Trophy Grove Page 4

  Chapter 4 – Bringing Out the Big Guns

  I cringe when I hear Teddy Jackson knocking on my cabin door. Marlena and I have been sharing a bunk almost every night during the three months it takes us to hop through the stars to arrive at Tybalt; and though I know Teddy’s likely been aware of our liaisons since that night Marlena and I watched her Risen Phoenix ascend and burn, I still feel like I need to do better to keep the intimacies I share with Marlena a secret from her father. Marlena chuckles as she feels my body wince against hers at the sound of her father’s knocking, and she’s laughing as she hops out of bed and grabs her pants and blouse from a pile of clothing heaped upon the floor.

  “We’ll be slowing out of super-light speed within the half hour as we arrive at Tybalt.” Teddy’s deep voice easily penetrates the cabin door. “Mimosas and Bloody Maries will be waiting in the viewing cabin.”

  Marlena emerges from my cabin’s private bathroom a few minutes later and winks my way before slipping into the empty hall. I give my cabin’s coffee pot the time it requires to bubble some caffeine before hurrying to the viewing room. Many a year has passed since I took my first trip into the stars, and the process of hopping through the heavens has lost that old charm it held for me before I first lifted into space. Star travel lacks any of the excitement all the old Earth movies assigned to it. Most passengers crowded upon starships find themselves in cabins without portals or windows through which they might spy on the stars beyond the safety of their ships’ hulls. A passenger feels no change of momentum in his or her knees, nor does he or she ever feel the slightest change of pressure in his or her ear at any moment during a trip through the stars. Even the first-class space tourist, who pays a steep ticket price for the privilege of a cabin with a view, feels disappointed to discover that the stars do not trail any pretty streamers of rainbow colors as a ship slows out of super-light speeds. Simple, utter darkness greets anyone peeking out of a ship’s windshield while travelling at speeds beyond that of light, and all the stars simply wink back into the heavens on that fraction of a second it takes a starship or star yacht to materialize from faster-than-light travel. A passenger misses the transition if he or she blinks. No one ever hears anything; even the hum of the engines never changes. One only waits for the necessary days to pass, isolated from any communication while the ship hops through the heavens. Even a short voyage through the stars can feel lonely.

  So I take my time to savor my coffee before I make my way to Teddy’s viewing cabin. I’m surprised to find Teddy and Marlena dressed formally for the descent out of super-light travel, and I’m a bit embarrassed by wrinkled Tiki shirt and Bermuda shorts. Teddy and Marlena chuckle at my frazzled wardrobe.

  “Have we completed the jump into the system?” I ask as Marlena hands me a celebratory Bloody Mary.

  Teddy shakes his head. “Not yet, but we should look upon Tybalt at any moment.”

  It doesn’t seem fair when Teddy and Marlena are too distracted by my entrance to miss that fraction of a second when all the stars wink back into the heavens beyond the viewing window. I nod towards the scene, and my hosts applaud as they look upon the gray and orange planet that quickly grows in the center of the viewing cabin’s window. Tybalt is only slightly larger than Earth; and though its distance from its solar center forces the planet to take twice the time to orbit its star than the year Earth requires, Tybalt’s climate is little different from that on our native planet thanks to the increased levels of energy jettisoned by the system’s bright star. There’s no abundance of water on Tybalt, but that’s a shortcoming that’s easily remedied by the League’s efficient shipments of space-mined water. Everything considered, Tybalt is as good of a match to our Earth as anything that might be found amid all the stars. The planet’s a real gem humanity was lucky to find. The obliteration contractors must sure resent whatever obstacle prevents them from achieving the Law of Extermination before they might open Tybalt to human settlement.

  “I’ve never looked on a planet that’s in the middle of being cleansed by the obliteration contractors,” Marlena speaks as Tybalt continues to expand in our view. “I wonder if the rest of the planet was as orange before the first mudder arrived to ruin it.”

  Tybalt is no blue marble like the Earth. Half of the planet is a dull, dark gray. That’s the half that’s been scraped clean by the obliterators’ mudders and machines. Tybalt’s other half is brilliant orange that pulsates from dim to bright in synch with an alien rhythm. The difference between the sphere’s two halves is a stark one, one emphasized by a sharp borderline that slowly turns in our view as Tybalt spins upon its axis.

  “That rock must’ve really been something if it was ever completely covered in all that orange,” I remark. “It must’ve glowed like some kind of lantern. What do you think might account for such luminescence?”

  Teddy shrugs. “It’s beyond my ability to guess. I’m no extra-terrestrial botanist. But I’d bet a pretty sum that we’ll find our prey along the border between that dark gray and that bright orange.”

  I hardly have time to finish a Bloody Mary before Tybalt’s mass fills our viewing window as the star yacht quickly nears our destination. Dozens of blocky, windowless spacecraft pop into that window as we drift into orbit. The ships are massive, as large as the mightiest drone and scout carriers the League might martial. Yet I’m hard-pressed to count more than a few blinking lights upon any of them. They’re certainly not starliners filled with settlers waiting in orbit for permission to lower upon the planet and establish their new lives, for the decks of starliners team with lights spilling from dance parlors and viewing decks. Nor do I recognize any of those blocky shapes of ships as those matching the fleet’s cruisers and frigates. None of the craft sport any emblems or flags, nor do any have something as simple as an identifying number stenciled upon their hulls.

  “It looks like we’re awful late to the party,” I observe. “I don’t recognize any of those ships greeting us. I hope that’s not going to be a problem, because all those ugly blocks are brimming with guns.”

  Teddy smiles at me. “They’re not going to present any problem to this star yacht, Zane. Those are my firm’s newest ships assembled together in orbit. They’re gunships of the line. They might not be much to look at, but believe me, they’re quickly, tough and deadly.”

  I grunt. “I don’t see any indication of docking bays or command bridges. I’d hate to be among any crew stationed on those ships.”

  “Oh, that’s what makes those ships so especially rugged,” Teddy answers. “They don’t need any crew at all. Their systems are fully automated.”

  The fine hairs along the back of my neck stand upright as I consider the missile racks and laser cannons protruding from every surface of those blocky ships. I hurry to the bar for another stiffening drink, and I don’t give that vending machine of a barkeep the time to do its job before I pilfer a bottle of bourbon to help myself to my need.

  “Are you telling me those ships are robots?”

  Teddy chuckles. “Heavens no, Zane. Even I can see humanity’s not ready to accept that. Those are drone ships. Think of them as really fancy, and expensive, remote control toys. The crew of a small command cruiser out there drifting somewhere between the ships controls everything. A crew that’s half the size of any needed by a League interceptor can command all those gunships.”

  “What do you think all those guns are doing around Tybalt?” Marlena asks.

  “I don’t know,” answers Teddy.

  The star yacht’s intercom system whistles, and the voice of the ship’s navigator enters the viewing cabin.

  “Fleet authorities are flashing us with their signal, Mr. Jackson. Do you want me to bounce it straight into your viewing cabin, or would you like me to redirect it onto a private line?”

  “Straight into my viewing cabin will be fine, Navigator Omato.”

  A piano melody crowded with popping static fills the chamber. Several minutes pass before a voice eventually addresses T
eddy.

  “Welcome to Tybalt, Mr. Jackson. This is Lieutenant Hasbro. On behalf of the League, let me welcome you and your crew to Tybalt. You’ve arrived right on schedule, and our ship scans show your star yacht’s functioning optimally. Everything looks to be in fine shape following your jumps through the stars. Where would you like land on planet?”

  “We’ll be delaying our visit to the obliterators’ offices, Lieutenant. We’d rather make our way directly to the soup kitchen.”

  Marlena glances at me. I shrug. I don’t have any problem with visiting the mudders. I’ve written more features about the clones than any other electronic tabloid reporter.

  Popping piano music again fills our cabin while Teddy waits for a response.

  “Mr. Jackson, are you sure you want to head to the clone working camp?” The Lieutenant’s voice returns after another delay. “The landing platforms there will likely be hard on your star yacht, and the streets are more than a little rough, with so many clones unable to work at scraping this planet clean at the moment. Then, there’s the typical stench found wherever the mudders congregate.”

  “I’m confident my star yacht and my navigator can handle the landing, Lieutenant,” Teddy responds. “Nor will we wilt on account of the smell. I’m on the hunt again, and I need to dig a little information out of the mudders.”

  Another delay of piano music passes. “Of course, Mr. Jackson. I would advise being careful if you’re planning to have any robotic sentries escorting your party. The mudders hate robots even more than we do.”

  “Of course. Say, Lieutenant, where’s your command cruiser amid all these gunships?”

  I notice how Teddy’s finger tap upon his leg as he counts the seconds that pass before the Lieutenant’s voice returns.

  “We’re currently outside of Tybalt’s system, Mr. Jackson.”

  “Where would that be?”

  There’s another delay. “We’re not at liberty to say.”

  Teddy winks at me. “Of course. You’re likely a few jumps away. Perhaps you’re stationed near the Sigma Anomaly. That would be a good place to mask your presence from any civilian scanners. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what’s with the presence of so many gunships in low orbit?”

  “We’re simply rolling through some typical equipment testing.”

  Teddy gives Marlena a troubled glance. “That’s strange, Lieutenant Hasbro, because the League fleet informed my offices that the gunships excelled at every system check upon delivery. Is there anything wrong with the ships that I need to know about?”

  The piano plays a little longer this time before the Lieutenant returns. “Not at all, Mr. Jackson. You’ve supplied us with a fine fleet. We’re only conducting simple training. You’re all cleared to make your way towards the work camp’s landing platforms. Tugs will help guide you upon entry. Good hunting, Mr. Jackson.”

  The background music vanishes from the intercom. Teddy stands before the window, perhaps considering the gunships circling around Tybalt. I wish I could read minds.

  A smile remains on Teddy’s face as he turns his attention back to us.

  “My guts tell me we’re about to go on one hell of a safari. We tested those gunships over and over before handing them to the fleet, and I’ve looked over the performance reports enough times to know that they’re everything the League requested. Zane, those gunships are so easy to operate that I could teach you how while we got blasted on bourbon and gin. I suspect there’s something incredible on that planet, something so special as to bring the big guns into orbit.”

  I gulp. “And we’re planning to kill it with nothing more powerful than handheld laser cannons?”

  “We are,” Teddy nods. “Imagine what something responsible for drawing so much attention is going to look like when it’s mounted upon my wall.”

  Marlena and I refrain from sipping any further at our drinks after Teddy marches into the hall. I’m worried that I should’ve packed a full set of Space Marine body armor along with all my shirts and shorts. I remember what Marlena told me concerning her father, how she told me that Teddy’s going to see this expedition through to the glorious, or disastrous, end. I remember Marlena telling me that Teddy’s not going to settle for anything between total victory or utter defeat. I hope I’m ready, because I’m feeling like I’m about to go on one hell of an adventure for a story my readers aren’t going to forget – as long as I survive long enough to get it all down on glowing, electronic paper.

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