An alien resembling a hairless feline appeared on the primary bridge monitor five hours after the battle ended. “Inhabitants of Earth. I am Opesil of the Enlightenment Group. We represent the 3rd Consortium. We have liberated your planet from the Calaar. Do not be fooled. The Calaar pretended to be your allies. Their supposed generosity and goodness was a sham. They had every intention of stripping your planet of its precious resources and enslaving you. Unfortunately, the Calaar threat is far from neutralized. They will launch an effort to regain this system and reinstate your species under their diabolical control. We will not let that happen. Forces of the 3rd Consortium will remain in your system for the time being, providing protection and assistance. Rejoice humans. Rejoice in your liberation. Let this day be a day of celebration for now and hereafter.”
Fearful silence smothered the bridge. Justine held her breath, her eyes agape with shock. She looked to her captain, who tried to maintain a dispassionate face, but trembling lips betrayed his effort.
The bridge crew had witnessed a battle five hours earlier and the sheer savagery and intensity of the clash left everyone in a state of shock. The outcome of that terrible encounter compounded their shock with horror.
One hundred Consortium ships appeared out of warp just inside the solar system. The Calaar had gradually drawn down their presence in the system. Originally, their ships numbered five hundred. Now, there were only twenty five left, stationed around Earth.
The Consortium force attacked those remaining Calaar ships and glaring pulses of space combat lit Earth's skies like lightning.
The Calaar ships fought valiantly, destroying over a dozen Consortium attackers. But valor availed only so much in the face of superior numbers. The Calaar force died to the last ship. The Consortium never bothered to take prisoners. Of course, the Calaar ships never offered to surrender.
Earth vessels in the vicinity remained on the sidelines, their crews fixated witnesses to an immense slaughter.
Justine's ship was positioned midway between the sun and Earth. On one hand, she completely understood why her captain had not given the order to intervene on the Calaar's behalf. He was protecting his crew. The Earth ship, even with its cutting edge, galaxy standard composition would have have been blown out of space. On the other hand, she wanted badly for her ship to enter the battle and inflict as much damage as possible on those Consortium invaders. God, how she hated the captain at that moment for not giving the order. How she hated feeling like a coward! But most of all, she hated this Consortium with a passion that made her blood boil.
When Consortium ground units landed on Earth, they hunted down and executed every Calaar they could find. And then they consolidated their presence. A month later, it became clear to humanity that this protection Opesil spoke of had become a full fledge occupation.
***
Captain Mingana ordered a full stop and the Horseman emerged out of warp, its attitude thrusts reversing in an emergency deceleration. Helm, standing on the opposite side of the bridge, peered in the captain's direction. “What's going on, Captain?”
Mingana pointed to blips on a sensor interface. “Long range probe picked up ship traffic. It's likely a Calaar patrol.”
The observer walked toward the sensor station, a frown forming on his face. “How many ships?”
“Five,” said Mingana. “They're spread out twelve light minutes apart, which definitely conforms to a Calaar patrol formation.”
“Why are we stopping?” Helm demanded. “We're too far out to be detected.”
“Do you know what kind of ships those are, Observer?”
Helm sniffed as if the question were elementary. “S12 cruisers, the Calaar's primary deep reconnaissance vessels.”
“Correct,” said Mingana, but with a very obvious qualifier in her tone. “However, the Calaar upgraded their S12s. They have range-boosting and spatial disruption sensors. In five minutes they would have picked up our warp signature. Our best...no...only option is to remain stationary until that patrol passes.”
“Now, we're behind schedule,” Helm stated none too pleased. “How long do we have to wait?”
“Until the patrol passes,” Mingana repeated, mentally rolling her eyes.
“Fifteen minutes, Captain,” Helm ordered impatiently. “Then resume motion, but at an initial minimum impulse.”
“Even at minimum we could still be detected,” said Mingana.
“Then we'll be detected.” A flash of fervor intensified the observer's expression. “And the Calaar will send every ship they have after us. Either way, this vessel and its crew will carry out the mission. We will do what the Consortium has tasked us to do and we will do it within the proper timeframe. Understood, Captain?”
Mingana uttered a lethargic reply. “Loud and clear, Observer.”
Justine looked suitably unassuming in her lime green civilian tank top and blue jeans. Her hair, normally braided while on duty crowned her head, unfettered like a black cloud.
She walked down a bustling Chicago street, projecting a mood as carefree as the weekend revelers around her. But inside, she seethed. The U.N. Authority and its enforcement arm, U.N. Command had just established control over Earth, with Consortium backing. With the Authority's ascension every damnable ill that had plagued Earth before the Calaar's presence was returning in despicable increments: economic disparities, racial and ethnic bigotry, gender discrimination, religious fanaticism, crime...
And to make matters worse, a U.N./Consortium propaganda machine had been established, extolling the virtues of the Consortium and its puppet regime, while denigrating the Calaar and their supporters. Anyone espousing an opposing viewpoint were branded subversives and tended to disappear.
The Consortium continued to kill any Calaar left on Earth. As for the Calaar's human allies...well rumors abounded as to their fate, dark rumors of underground internment/torture/death facilities...
Justine shook herself back to the here and now.. She was nervous enough as it was. She didn't need her resolve to be degraded by runaway thoughts.
She stopped in front of a bar with a CLOSED sign in the window. This was the place. She took a breath and entered. The interior was dim and empty. She ventured to a banquet room in the back to find it filled with men and women. Most sat in chairs set up for the purpose. Others stood. All eyes were directed to the purple-skinned long necked, quadruped standing on a small stage.
The Calaar's eyeless, bulb-shaped head seemed to brush across every face in the room. Justine froze when the alien's sightless gaze leveled on her and stopped. It was if she were being scrutinized in some fashion. Unlikely. She relaxed, chalked it up to imagination and surveyed the people around her. She recognized a few men and women from the military. She even spotted a fleet admiral.
“To those who do not know me,” The Calaar began, its voice flowing from a vocal orifice at the base of its neck in soft ripples. “I am Ot^^^, former aide to the Master Administrator.” Ot^^^ referred to his superior whose title and function were the equivalent of a governor.
With a degree of melancholy, Ot^^^ added: “I may be the only Calaar left on your planet.” The Calaar paused, its body rigid as a statue. “The Consortium has drastically reduced our numbers in this sector, but not our determination. They caught us by surprise, but we are not beaten.”
At that second, the fleet admiral Justine saw in the crowd, stepped onto the stage and stood next to Ot^^^. His piercing dark eyes swept the audience. “Hello all, I'm Admiral James Casey. What the distinguished aide is trying to say is that the Calaar, in the wake of their defeat, has to regroup. Currently, they're occupied on multiple fronts in a war spanning a good chunk of the galaxy. We don't know when they'll come back to liberate us from these Consortium thugs, but they will return. In the meantime, for those of us in attendance today, the nucleus of what I anticipate will be a growing worldwide resistance, we're going to take up arms against the Consortium and strike blows for our freedom until the Calaar returns. Hopefully, we'll have run these bastards off the planet and out of the system before then.”
The room erupted in cheering. When it subsided, the admiral spoke for a few more minutes, his words ringing with encouragement, hope and a strident desire to inflict as much damage upon the enemy as possible. Afterward, the meeting became a strategy session which Justine vigorously participated in.
At one point, Casey took Justine aside. “I know who you are, Justine Mingana. I've read your file. You're an outstanding officer.”
“I don't know about the outstanding part,” Justine said, very much surprised that anyone this high ranking was remotely aware of her existence. “But I won't be an officer for long. Based on what I've seen here today, I'm quitting the military and joining the resistance.”
The admiral regarded Justine solemnly. “I had a feeling you would make that decision, Lieutenant. But I need you to reconsider.”
“Reconsider?”
“We need military personnel committed to the Resistance to remain in the military.”
Justine nodded slowly as the logic of the admiral's request sunk in. “You want us in places where our position and access will be of use to the resistance.”
“Precisely,” Casey beamed. “Are you still interested in resigning?”
Justine spared a moment of thought. “Alright. I'll stay in. I do have a question: who is this 'we' you refer to?”
The admiral gestured to the Calaar, who stood on the stage staring...so to speak...in Justine's direction.
“Ot^^^ also read your file,” said the admiral with a wink.
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