A NEW BEGINNING
Chapter Fourteen
"Estorando"
15:37 - Feltzin System, Thugs-4-Less Relay Station, Bogon Galaxy
"Hey, Carlz? Have youz seen the new protopet infomercial? Are youz gettin' it?" inquired a thug technician, tapping a clawed finger on a small monitor screen in front of him.
The fellow Snivelakian sitting adjacent from him, dressed in a similar black uniform, returned a snarl as he swiveled in his chair to face his coworker. He lowered his red eyes from his comrade's command station to the same small and round vid-screen just a few inches in front of him.
Carlz spoke in an equally hoarse voice, "Grav, that aired yesterday. You knowz Megacorp always deliver these new products" he gestured with a hand, "a day before they release them." He turned round in his chair to the front of his work station, bringing up his hands to prop his head up and staring absent-mindedly at the various numbers on his command screen.
"But are youz getting one? I am. I couldz train it to be like my personal weapon--like what the Jobians did with the Saur-Beasts," he said as a mischievous grin stretched across his scaly lips. "Besides, Megacorp assured us it's a hundred percent loyal. I'm going to name mine . . . Ballistic."
Carlz reclined in his chair. "Thatz just wrong,"--sighing softly--"I ain't getting one, either. Well, not for me, anyway. Maybe my teenage daughter could have some use for it? You know how she got last year when I forgotz to buy her a weapon last year."
"Haha! Yes, teens are awful thingz--"
Beep! Beep! chimed the radar system in front of Carlz, who quickly looked down and studied the small screen attached to the right armrest of his chair. On the screen, it emitted a thick pulse from its central point, the relay station, lighting up a small dot near the edge of the station's sensor field.
"Was that a blip?" said another thug several feet away from the other two. The reptile pulled on his headset and waited for another blip to sound and appear on his scanner. "Port this to the main screen, Carlz. If something's coming, we'll seez it better on the big screen," the thug ordered, beginning to type in some commands on his keyboard. Afterward, he turned slightly in his chair to face the oversized projection screen which hung on a long wall in front of them. Altogether, their eyes searched the enlarged radar screen.
When the radar lost the confirmation of an unidentifiable object, the room grew deathly silent and cold. They exchanged worrisome glances to one another, their hearts racing. Minutes passed by and still there were no more reports of the object on screen. Not fully complacent with the idea of a possible attack on the relay station, the closest means of communication with their home planet Snivelak, the one in charge gave another order as a reassurance.
"Grav, increase the sensor range to its maximum capacity. Just to be safe, I want a double check on everything," he said. "And when youz done that, change the sensor field and run an electromagnetic check around the station for … say … a few hundred meters. Surely, if there is some kindz of ship out there, it won't go undetected. If nothing showz up, finally, run a ionic diagraph approximately a hundred and fifty feet around the circumference of the station."
Grav returned a vehement answer, "Yes, sir!" Immediately, he began his work, typing feverishly on his keyboard.
To the left of him, Carlz inputted the commands for the calibration of the station's satellite dishes to aid Grav in running the many different system checks. When he completed this task, he reclined in his chair, pulled on his headset just as their superior had done, and waited for the station to take its course. All around them, the soft hum and occasional thug confirmed Grav's duties, for the dishes were repositioning atop and around the station in tandem, locking into their respective places.
When everything was set, an icon appeared on the main overhead screen, waiting for the next order to given by Grav. He took a moment to eye his superior over his shoulder and with the press of a key he initiated the computer system's secondary check, the increased scan range; the station responded in immediacy with a charged sound as it readied a beam from the tips of its multiple dishes--and from all around the triangular-shaped station, with long, gyrating rings at its topmost and nethermost extensions, where the small satellite dishes marked strategic points for the greatest pickup range in a three-sixty environment, there coalesced a thin, cyan energy, flashing sporadically until enough power had been harnessed--the dots connected and conceived a glorious beam at the top and bottom tips of the relay station, crackling with energy.
Inside the command center, Grav pressed and held down another key. Stationed at the center of the station, they could see the gathering light of the dishes through the small windows on both sides of the room. Once the charging of the dishes dissipated, a small explosion rang—and shot forth a javelin of energy.
A smile broadened on the lead thug's face as he saw this. "Excellent, excellent . . . ." he said to himself, folding his arms and watching how the beam soon disappeared from their sights, and appearing as a massive microwave on the radar scanner, extending beyond the farthest reaches of the relay station. Once the beam reached its targeted area, it lost its color with another resounding explosion, creating a gigantic sensor field for which the relay station could detect more objects in space than it could be possible using its regular range.
On the main screen, the radar picked up many random objects a few hundred feet around the station, most of which it easily discerned as bits of strewn asteroids among other things discarded in this quadrant of thug space occupation. Again, the radar sensed nothing out of the ordinary, and the original blip didn't reappear.
Carlz stroked his tough reptilian chin in thought, sighing. "There has to be somethingz out there."—he scratched his head, creating a jarring sound—"Could it be that the radar malfunctioned?"
Grav turned in his chair after staring away from the main screen, feeling convinced that there was nothing to worry about. "I secondz that thought. Sometimes these thingz happen, Captain."
The captain bore down on his subordinates with an unimpressed stare. "Faulty equipment, my ass," he said as he rose from his command chair and pulled off his headset. "It's from past experiences like these that I knowz whether or not we're bein' invaded,"—he walked over to the two and clasped their shoulders—"and what you two seemz to be forgetting is that technology is always getting better. A thug's weapon is his bond—the bigger, the better. Now Gravv, do what I told youz to do and run that electromagnetic scan. If there is trouble, whatz we to do with only the three of us? Hm? I'd rather be in danger and call in the report to HQ than to die all for nothin'."
"Aye!" Grav and Carlz concurred in unison with a growl, and then went about resetting the station's system for additional scans.
After a minute of preparation and constant key typing, while being watched by their captain, the system was set for another scan. Once more, the station's satellites moved by electric-powered pulleys, being repositioned for a sort of different scan pathway than before. When everything became settled, Grav activated the electromagnet scan, one a little different than the first scan.
"The scan is ready. On your mark, Carlz. One, two, and . . ." he motioned toward the other technician, and gave a nod to signal the final key press. "Okay, we're scanning now."
They all stared up at the main screen again. A radar image went from a green to a black background. After perusing the new reading, the captain squinted to fully examine a conspicuous happening at a corner of the screen, in an area a couple of hundred feet away from the station. What appeared to be motes of electronic interference transformed into the silhouette of a small space fighter; moreover, it alone moved at a gradual pace toward the station.
"What do we have here? See? We have an intruder. Carlz, ready the station's cannons. I'm not taking any chances on this one," he said, releasing the shoulders of his subordinates, returning to his station's chair behind them, and pulling on his headset. "Carlz, if we can't establish communication with this aircraft, turn him into space dust. Got it?" The captain turned to the front of his chair, turned some dials at his command center, and then flipped a switch for radio transmission.
In the cockpit of the anonymous Megacorp space fighter, a masked and heavily armored pilot stared emotionless at the space station ahead of him, the various luminous lights inside the fighter reflecting off the visor of his helmet. His fighter roared behind him with a thick smog of white exhaust; his thrusters, burning a fiery orange. As the fighter flew dangerously close into the firing range of space station, the pilot flipped a switch on the top of his control stick, his metallic, gloved thumb resting an inch off the button which controlled the release of a fearsome ionic missile. A second later, his highly advanced fighter intercepted the transmission being sent from the space station.
"Unidentified space fighter, statez your name and business for being within thug space territory," demanded the thuggish voice without some much as a hint of fear. "I repeat, statez your name and business for being within thug space territory--or suffer the consequences," the voice added, but it didn't incite the pilot.
Back inside the relay station's command room, the captain elevated his left arm and then lowered it quickly, signaling Carlz to begin firing.
Carlz acknowledged his order with a nod, turned back in his chair, and entered the commands into the system. Responsively, the station's pulse cannons, mounted onto the defense rings of the station, came online with a motorized tumult. Chambers, heavily packed nano-cartridges, were being loaded and charged inside the rotating cylinders of the cannons, and once they were set, their large, tubular barrels retracted in an extending pause, for a moment as if to take aim, and shot forth with powerful successions—jettisoning a packed oblong coalescence of raw energy.
The cannons of the relay station rang out in wildness, shooting forth a storm of energy packed disks.
The initial volley of energy disks lapped at the surrounding space around the space fighter, trying to disintegrate it. The small ship rocked continuously, but the pilot did not veer from his course. In response, he pressed just one of the many red buttons on his control stick and engaged his ship's missile weaponry. And out from the slots beneath the split nose of the ship ejected partially ionic missiles, tipped in red. A second later, they burst from the space fighter at incredible speeds, passing by the explosive waves of electrically charged disks the space station had shot forth without pause.
The missiles flew in circular motions as if they had a mind of their own, dodging and weaving out from the potential hot spots where they could be prematurely detonated by the energy disks. On radar, they appeared to be two big dots launching from the small fighter, going at speeds seemingly faster than a shooting star. The visual alone was enough to intimidate the three Snivelakians within the relay station.
Carlz's eyes bulged at the realization of missiles heading toward the station. He turned sharply in his chair to the captain, "Sir, sir! Incoming missiles," he shouted in excitement, slamming his fists on the sides of his keyboard.
Suddenly, Grav chided the other. "Carlz, you idiot! Of course he knowz the missiles are coming. We all do," he motioned to look at the captain for an immediate answer. "What should I do, Captain? Run the last scan or destroy the missiles or contact Snivelak?" he breathed furiously, turning back to the radar and narrowing his eyes at the brightly lit dots.
The space station captain look indecisive for a second, but then barked several orders at his subalterns to respond to the attack. "Carlz, deal with the missiles. Initiate the machine gun turrets. Grav, run that ionic diagraph I asked for to seez how many intruders we're dealing with. Where there's one, there's always two," he said. After giving the commands, the two lizards continued looking at him. "Well? What are youz two staring at me for? Get your asses to it!"
Carlz entered the commands for the machine guns to become operational. Out on the station, where the cannons were relentlessly firing an endless succession of energy disks, small plates in between them popped up and the machine guns rose from their hidden ports. On each of them were a pair of tiny, thin antennae erecting automatically, serving as a means of motion tracking. They began scanning for the nearest threat, the head, encroaching missile. Within several seconds before the missile could pass the station's first defensive barrier, it erupted into a mass of flame, illuminating the whole front side of the station in a spectacular reddish light. Because of the visceral power of the missile and its close proximity the station, its explosion caused the occupants of the station to rear back in awe and fright.
"Whoa! That was too close," said Grav, gripping the armrests of his chair.
Carlz clamored, "Here comes the other one. Incoming!" he warned a couple of seconds before the second missile exploded early in front of the station, brightening the room from the front and side windows. Everything within the room quaked like clattering teeth, and then settled down. The sounds of the machine guns stopped abruptly.
"Where's my third scan, Grav? We need it," reminded the captain, glaring at said technician. "Depending on the odds against us, the number of enemy fighters will dictate whether or not should we sendz a warning to HQ of a possible invasion. If we's go down, it'll give the enemy the advantage of a surprise attack, which is something we's don't want."
While Grav typed in the commands to pull up the ionic graph, reports from the two technicians' scanners warned of more threats, blipping a total of six times, repeatedly. These beeps were enough to make the spikes on Carlz's and Grav's head stand on their ends. Grav put his fears aside and brought the third scan to the captain's attention. "Captain, it's up!"
"Oh . . . my . . . god . . . ." was all the captain could utter, amazed by what he saw on the main screen.
The main screen showed an enlargement of the radar scanner when switched over to read ionic signatures, and not only did they all see the registers of the two missiles before, and the next batch of imminent ones, but also the first signs of more enemy fighters, which were slowly tailing the first space fighter. Altogether, they were closing in—fast. The captain did the only thing he could do . . . he flipped a switch to begin an encrypted channel to Snivelak, but before he could say anything regarding the invasion, intense static blasted into his ear. He ripped his headset off his head and stared down at it on the floor. Communication outside the station was lost.
"Whoever is behind this invasion, they've obviously jammed our communications. We're all alone up here," he said despondently.
Carlz and Grav stared at each other, not knowing what else to do but to . . . .
The captain rose from his seat and growled, "We'll keep fighting! It's the only way," he said in a last breath of resolution, looking into the eyes of each of his subordinates. "It'll be pointless to try and escape this station in podz: we won't have the timez to eject before those missiles hit us."
The radar continued to echo loudly. On screen, there were about a hundred small, trilateral shapes materializing on radar, to each its respective representation of a blip, and following behind the seemingly ceaseless wave of enemy fighters was one gargantuan starship which towered all the other ships around it, assuming a central point amid a pentagonal formation—one for an assault.
Out in space, the enemy fighters not tailing alongside the capital ship broke from formation and began to swarm around as they flew faster and closer to their target. Some distance away, only one ship had positioned itself in front of the massive invasion. It had already fired six more missiles, and they were only several long seconds away from breaching the defensive barrier of the relay station, where its defenses suppressed heavy fire. There was no telling if the station would be able to deter the inevitable.
The lead missile of the new batch finally reached through the unrelenting cannon fire unscathed, followed by three more only seconds behind. When the machine gun turrets sensed the presence of the first missile, they redirected, twirled their thick gun barriers, and unleashed scores of vicious gunfire. At the sounds of the turrets firing, the station occupants watched the main screen for a prayer, a sign that they could outlast the assault.
Another explosion rang in space and lit the station with a radiant red hue as the first of several missiles was destroyed by the turrets. Two more missiles escaped the remains of the failed missile and continued their speedy approach. Abruptly, they were caught by a stray line of cannon fire. Beside them, three more raced forth, managing to evade the most difficult area of the station's defenses. Together, they separated from their course and dispersed into a wider pattern, drawing the cannons' fire away from the massive fleet.
Two missiles twirled a dangerous course round the heavy fire and managed to enter the station's safety perimeter, and then the third remaining missile traveled downward, taking a dip to one of the station's defense rings. Where a missile failed to destroy one of the station's cannon, the other succeeded in damaging a cannon; the third, successfully obliterating a portion of the station's lower defense ring.
The station rocked violently in response to the external destruction caused to its foundation.
Carlz fell forward, but caught himself in time before the station's momentum slammed his head onto the work desk in front of him. Moments later, the station's alarm system sounded; perpetually red warning lights filling the room and twirling as expected.
"Damn, damn!" he growled, eying his command screen to read the reports of the extent of the damage caused by the missiles. "We's taken damage at the lower junction of the station, and we lost a defense ring. The cannons there are either out of proper firing ranger while the others on the broken piece of the ring are destroyed and cast into space."
The captain leered at the fact of losing the battle as he said, "Damn it all to hell! Who is attacking us?" He rubbed his forehead. "Strap yourselves in, we's going in for overtime," he added before settling down in his chair again, pulling down diagonally a safety strap across his chest. At his waist, he clipped on another belt, fastening it tight.
Suddenly, the remaining missile came into contact with another portion of the station; its impact feeling closer than all the others, for the windows had begun to patter, showing signs of deep cracks. And when the others, as well as the captain, heard this, they quickly turned their heads to the windows, losing a moment of breath. The captain stared at the damaged windows the longest, fearing what would happen if they were to shatter. He motioned his head downward, slowly, to assay the dire situation at hand.
He elevated his head when the others looked at him with eyes full of fraught. He did not say another word, nor did he issue any other commands. He watched as the others strapped themselves into their chairs. Before them, the radar projected an outside camera image of what the nearest, lurking space fighter looked like. It shone a black aircraft with nothing emblazoned on its sides—no insignia, no true indicator of whom the menacing ship belonged to. It looked like nothing out of the ordinary; a custom modification that bore no semblance of a Bogon maker. Mysterious as its pilot, the craft boosted forth past the station's formidable defenses and swooped in like a wraith, with its machine guns blasting away with pinpoint accuracy as it flew within several meters before the structure.