First contact legacy ear.., p.3
First Contact : Legacy Earth 2, page 3
Lance swung by the jail for his weekly observation of the interrogation, per Cadence’s request. Still in his suit, the young man went into the observation room where his commanding officer stood by herself, stroking her chin.
“I believe a belated happy birthday is in order,” she said, keeping her eyes on the pirate.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Lance replied, stepping next to her and watching the interrogation.
“Your father wanted me to tell you happy birthday as well,” she added. “The Manifest Destiny is on a classified mission. Otherwise, he would’ve reached out to you himself.”
“It also helps that your office is the only one with the new quantum communicator,” Lance replied with a shrug before looking up at the baffled Colonel. “I saw how much equipment was being loaded into the building with your office. According to Michael’s theory on how long it’d take to reverse engineer a quantum communication device, that puts his timeline only a day or two off from your installation.”
“Clearly, I need to be using your team for more than just fire missions,” she mused before turning her attention back to their prisoner.
“Have you found anything interesting about him?” Lance asked.
“He’s got a record going back to his childhood. Started with petty theft then escalated to breaking and entering, even muggings,” Cadence explained before waving her hand. “He’s been on someone’s radar continuously for his entire life, and he moves around so much that his probation-required tracking chip signal is always one step behind where he actually is.”
Cadence looked at her watch. She swiped several times across its surface before selecting a file. As she did, it projected into a hologram above her wrist. Lance turned his attention to the map. White dots peppered the solar system. A timeline was created, connecting each dot in the order it appeared. None were more than two weeks apart.
“What do you notice about this map?” she asked.
Lance’s brow furrowed. He leaned in and looked at the map closer. Each dot held a date and time stamp. As he bit his cheek, a strange perplexity washed over him. His interest was piqued. Turning his body completely to face her, he unconsciously grabbed his commanding officer’s wrist and moved it to get a better look.
“How is that possible?” he muttered.
Disbelief washed over him like a crashing wave. There it was! At the edge of the system, past Quaoar, his chip pinged. For three full years, another one had been registered next to Varuna. Lance’s heart skipped a beat. No humans had colonized or even sent stations near the Kuiper Belt that weren’t observatories.
“His chip didn’t show up at Perseus or otherwise?” Lance asked, his heart racing and eyes wide.
“He most certainly did not,” Cadence said as she shut the hologram off. “And outside of one of our W.A.S.P.s, dreadnaughts, destroyers, or corvettes, no ship can last more than a couple of weeks outside that belt.”
“So he had to have help. Who would be insane enough to assist him that far out?” Lance asked despite a tug at the back of his mind already telling him the answer he didn’t want to believe.
“This, in conjunction with Phobos’s findings, suggests the help of an extra solarestial nature,” Cadence said, placing her arms to her sides. “The test results came back from the weapon. It’s made of a titanium-hafnium alloy, mixed with a third element we’ve never seen before. Perfectly designed to dissipate heat so it doesn’t need a cooling system and technology hundreds of years beyond us.”
“If you’re saying what I think you’re saying and it’s actually true, why were they wearing outdated human mining exoskeletons and not some symbiotic advanced space armor?” Lance asked, his disbelief shifting to intrigue.
“That’s what we’re trying to find out, and as soon as we do, we can send a team to investigate,” Cadence said as she placed her hands behind her back.
“All due respect, ma’am, but this has got to be classified eight ways from Sunday,” Lance said as he shook his head. “No way a second lieutenant is privy to this kind of information.”
“You’re right. It is classified. I’ve been sharing this information with you because should we track the gun back to its source, you will be the one who leads a team to investigate,” she said, turning her attention back to him. “And I want the team leader to be fully up to date for the mission.”
A knot formed in Lance’s gut. He took a step back as his mouth dried out so much, he could hardly swallow. He shook his head in disbelief and his brow furrowed.
“There’s got to be more experienced teams, ma’am,” Lance argued. “My guys and I have only been active duty for six months. No way we’re ready for a mission like that.”
“In six months, you’ve been on eight missions,” Cadence argued. “In those eight missions, not a single civilian or soldier lost their life, or was even injured, for that matter. Property damage was kept to a minimum and seven of those eight times, the enemy didn’t even know you were there until you were already on top of them. Right now, you are the best team I have at my disposal.”
The Colonel turned back to the interrogation. Malkine continued to sit in silence. He was freshly shaven and in a new orange jumpsuit. Cadence sighed and gripped the bridge of her nose with her thumb and pointer finger.
“He’s not going to talk,” Lance muttered. “And we can’t do anything to MAKE him talk.”
“That may be true,” she replied. “Or we could just bore him into talking. We’ve tried everything else.”
“I hope that works,” he said before glancing at the door. “Permission to take your leave?”
“Granted,” Cadence said with a hint of defeat in her voice. “But don’t leave the base. I need your team ready to move at a moment’s notice.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lance replied before saluting his superior.
She saluted him back. Leaving the prison, he walked back to the S4 compound. As he made his way, Justin jogged out from between two buildings. Grease covered his hands and his flight suit, with a smear across his cheek and a bright smile on his face.
“What are you so glum about?” Justin asked, moving to Lance’s left side.
“Not glum, just thinking,” Lance replied as he mulled over what his C.O. told him. “What are you so happy about?”
“I finished my project and it works!” Justin said with a squeal of excitement in his voice.
Joy for his friend sparked within the young man. A grin tugged at the edge of his mouth as he looked down at his friend.
“Really? Congratulations!” Lance exclaimed.
“A fully automated chair that can help me immediately interface with any cockpit design in our fleet,” Justin mused. “The nano-tech and computers were a bit tricky to calibrate beyond Michael’s capabilities, but Stephanie lent me a hand.”
“Isn’t she at the Perseus Observatory?” Lance asked.
“Yes, but with the help of her roommate Olivia, they were able to get messages to me in three days instead of the usual six,” Justin replied with a shrug. “Otherwise, I’d be working on it for another half year.”
“Well then, congratulations!” Lance said as they passed the S4 building’s main entrance. “Are you going to patent it?”
“Already done,” Justin said while wiping his greasy hands on his flight suit some more. “AND I sent a proposal to the higher-ups to test it out in new craft as a way to allow people outside of the ‘optimal pilot height’ to have a shot at their dream.”
“Who knows, we may even have a squadron of the unusually tall and oddly short one day,” Lance teased while they reached the end of the facility.
“You joke now, but watch, they’ll like my idea and implement it or buy the patent outright from me,” Justin jokingly sneered back. “And when that happens, I’m not sharing my wealth with you one bit.”
“When that happens, you’re buying the first round,” Lance said with a laugh. “You know, once we’re old enough.”
“That should only be another year or so,” Justin chimed in.
“You want to hit the gym?” Lance asked as he rounded the building’s corner and stopped in front of its doors.
“I didn’t get the shot that increases my muscles,” Justin mused. “I wouldn’t be able to lift much more than I did on Earth. Besides, I’m covered in grease and it’s going to take forever to get cleaned up.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll see you back in the barracks,” Lance said before stepping toward the doors.
With a hiss, they slid open while Justin continued walking. Lance stepped into the building and removed his helmet. The crisp, fresh air that filtered into his suit was replaced by a damp stench accompanied by a faint whiff of body odor.
Activating his multi-tool, Lance locked his suit to only be able to activate for his vitals. Hanging the helmet up on a series of stands, he noticed Dexter’s and Michael’s suits were already stored on the racks.
As he removed his suit and the non-Newtonian body glove under it before mounting the rest of it on a designated holder, the dinging of his dog-tags rang out, now freed from the restraint of his armor. Grabbing them, he looked at the small oval pieces of metal with his name, rank, military branch, and serial number on one side. S4 sat on the smooth, black opposite side with a bright blue framing the outer edge of the S.
Sliding his dog-tags into his undershirt, he moved deeper into the building. With another hiss, a set of interior doors opened, revealing a weight room large enough to hold two hundred people with ease. Only Michael and Dexter were inside working out.
“Going for personal records today!” Dexter shouted from across the room.
“Your muscles finally stopped twitching?” Lance asked as the doors closed behind him.
“Yeah, it was starting to drive me crazy, but the doc kept telling me it was just the injections making them stronger,” Dexter replied while executing a military press with three plates on either side. “How long did you have the twitches?”
“A week,” Lance said while grabbing a few dumbbells to warm up.
“Yeah, but you only had the class one injection,” Michael said while on the pullup bar. “Class two lasted for almost six weeks and I wanted to shoot myself. I’m surprised you made it, Dex.”
“Strong mental constitution,” Dexter replied while racking his weights. “I may not be as smart as you, but nothing beats my will.”
He flexed, his vasculature clearly visible, even from as far away as he was. Lance laughed as he continued his warm-up. Michael tested to see how many pull-ups he could execute. As the second lieutenant continued to work out, he kept count of his teammate’s test.
The technician stopped at two hundred and fifteen with only a little bit of sweat forming on his brow. It seemed like he stopped more out of boredom than exhaustion. Moving around the gym, Lance worked his chest and triceps since it was a Monday. Putting several plates onto a bench press, he lay down and positioned himself under the bar before grabbing the coarse metal.
S4, the emblem, was painted on the arched ceiling, so every time Lance worked out, he had to look at it. Gritting his teeth, the second lieutenant exhaled as he pushed the bench press bar into a fully extended position. His chest burned and triceps ached as he dropped the weight back on its hooks.
“Twelve hundred pounds, not bad for a personal best!” Dexter shouted from the squat rack.
“It’s only impressive because of the lower gravity,” Lance replied as he sat up and wiped the sweat off his brow. “I do have to say, though, going from benching two twenty to…”
He quickly did the math in his head to account for Mars’ lighter gravity before whistling.
“Nine hundred pounds for a one-rep max isn’t half bad,” Lance said.
“Yeah, but if you would’ve used the synthetic sheath like I did, you’d break a thousand no sweat!” Dexter replied while squatting the Earth equivalent of thirteen hundred pounds with relative ease.
“Come on, guys, forget the perks of the injections. How cool is it being part of S4!” Michael said while curling one-hundred-pound dumbbells.
Aside from an insatiable hunger and a little more muscle growth, their physiques hadn’t changed very much.
BWAAAOOO! BWAAAOOO! BWAAAOOO!
Blue lights flashed inside the gym. Lance hopped to his feet, his muscles tight, ready for their next set of drills. Dexter racked his weight as Michael just dropped his. All three dashed to the gym’s doors.
They slid open, where a burst of chilled, refreshing steam was blasted in their faces to freshen them up from their workout. Their armor was hung up on the wall; in less than fifteen seconds, Lance passed through his armor and was in it with his helmet on. A call rang through his HUD.
Lance focused on it, opening the channel. Justin sat in a cockpit of some kind. His face was pale as his arms flailed, working on a half dozen screens at a time.
“This doesn’t look like a drill,” Lance said as a pit formed in his gut.
“It’s not!” Justin shouted. “Something just entered the solar system faster than we’ve ever seen before! Get outside. I’m on my way to pick you up!”
Lance took point and led Michael and Justin onto the verdant green landscape of Mars. Native civilians that stood several inches taller than even Dexter rushed here and there, nearly knocking them over.
Looking up to the sky, the second lieutenant felt the pit in his gut grow as a massive ship appeared almost out of nowhere above the planet. Despite still being in space, its structures and details were clearly visible from a ship dozens of times the size of any craft he’d seen before.
“No way that’s human,” Dexter muttered. “Any chance it’s Reeve?”
“They don’t have the resources to build that thing!” Michael replied in a breathless tone.
“It’s alien,” Lance added as a knot filled his throat. “We’re not alone in this universe.”
Four
Red Alert
The ground rumbled as alarms continued to fill the air. Large portions of asphalt slid away as enormous machines emerged from the ground. Knots formed in Lance’s stomach. The monitor of his heart rate beeped with warning.
Six of the machines locked in at ground level within the second lieutenant’s sightline. The large hexagonal blocks stood at nearly fifty feet tall. From their fronts unfurled two reinforced rails. They locked on to the unidentified craft.
“Holy crap, a true blue U.F.O.,” Mattias whispered.
“What are we supposed to do?” Michael asked.
“Make sure your suits are ready, get locked and loaded, then get to the hangar,” Lance ordered. “We need to get airborne and wait for orders.”
He kept his eye on the looming craft as he backpedaled. Turning, he and his team sprinted toward the armory. Being the only Marines issued the still experimental body armor, they were the first to arrive. Lance took his usual loadout, an HRG, Oath-Keeper, and shotgun with an extra clip for each weapon.
Dexter was the only one who deviated by adding a javelin to his suit. The mix of his C.R.I.S.P.R. and class injections added with his suit, both heavy weapons hardly slowed down the walking tank.
Leaving the armory, hundreds of soldiers flooded toward the facility to arm up. Getting clear of the building, Lance looked back to the sky. To his surprise, only human craft were airborne. No munitions rained down around them as every alarm on the base rang out.
“Why aren’t they opening fire?” Dexter asked through gritted teeth.
“Maybe they’re here for peaceful first contact,” Lance said as he chambered a round.
“Then let’s hope E.T. doesn’t phone home,” Mattias grumbled.
The heaviest hitters of Space Force’s Sol System Corps surrounded the invading ship. A queasy feeling settled into Lance’s legs as his skin turned cold. It took six of their largest ships to equate the length of the unidentified craft.
All four men sprinted toward the hangars. They kept as close to buildings as they could. Orders were shouted from commanding officers to their subordinates. Lance cycled his radio through to the S4 hub.
“Mikah, I need you to send a message to Earth,” Lance said.
“Fire away,” the S4 operator confirmed.
“Tell Major Halfstead that he picked the wrong day to take the entire S4 corps to get fitted for the suits,” Lance shouted over the surrounding noise. “There’s a legitimate U.F.O. in orbit. I’m taking the Muninn out of atmo and will be awaiting his or Colonel Cadence’s orders.”
“Copy that,” Mikah replied. “Sending message now, E.T.A. five minutes. I’ll keep you apprised of his answer.”
“Roger,” Lance confirmed.
Lance’s eyes darted to the skies every few yards. Still nothing but the looming sense of dread that hung over them like a hawk circling its prey. Don’t fire until fired upon, he thought to himself, more like a prayer than a statement.
“LANCE!” Justin shouted from a hangar almost a hundred yards away. “GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE!”
“This is Colonel Cadence,” the base announcer system activated. “Battle stations but hold your fire! All fighter craft get airborne. Odd-numbered transport craft will be to evacuate civilians, even numbers will be for troop transport.”
“Well, now we’ve got official orders,” Lance mused before taking off in a sprint.
Within seconds, they closed the open ground, reaching Justin with an IO-53 fighter tucked in the building behind him.
“Dexter, Mattias, get these doors open!” Lance ordered.
Both men pushed their shoulders into the slowly opening doors and pushed them open.
“We’ve got enough room for you guys in here and enough fuel to keep moving until we get orders,” Justin said as he pressed a few buttons on his multi-tool’s holographic interface.
A narrow side of the craft dropped open, turning into stairs to climb into the sleek, albeit thin craft.
Cla-Clang!
The hangar doors were forced completely open. Michael was already halfway up the stairs. Lance looked at his childhood friend, his hands gripping his rifle so tightly, no one could see them trembling.
