Launch Sequence (Genesis Book 2) Read online

  “So, we’re supposed to hibernate and keep traveling until we end up somewhere, and that will probably happen, but we might end up as slaves or food for some other aliens?”

  “You’re a pretty smart kid, Dennis. There’s a lot more to worry about than that, but essentially, you’ve understood the basic idea. Imagine knowing what I know as a Rear Admiral.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.” I said, truly feeling sorry he had to carry such a burden and couldn’t even vent about it to his family.

  “Don’t be. I chose my path, same as your mother. Unfortunately, that won’t be true for you. This certainly isn’t what we envisioned for your future.”

  “I wanted to be a basketball star for an Earth league,” I said. “Or maybe a combat simulation coder.”

  My father laughed, but it wasn’t a mocking or insulting laugh. “Mom and I wanted you to be whatever you wanted to be—other than a naval officer or an infantry soldier. She’s pretty sure you were going to be a famous writer or director.”

  “But you didn’t think so?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know because I wasn’t around enough to hear all of your stories. You telling a story is always better than your mother trying to retell it days or weeks later. I just wanted you to be whatever made you happy and kept you out of the war.”

  I tried to imagine my mom being interested enough in the stories I made up to repeat them to my father. I’d always thought she was just being polite, even when she encouraged me to do more. It seemed like a good way to keep me busy while the stress of the war in our backyard ate up most of her focus.

  “I didn’t think she ever paid attention to them,” I said.

  “Oh, Dennis. Your mother loves your stories, even the really weird ones where aliens eat garbage and keep irradiated kittens as pets.”

  I felt ashamed for believing my mother had only nodded in the right places or laughed at the proper moments just to keep from hurting my feelings. That she’d told my dad even the wackiest ones—like garbage-eating aliens who loved glow-in-the-dark kittens—alleviated some of that shame and replaced it with pride and a bit of embarrassment.

  “I recorded as much as I could about what happened, just like you said I should,” I said in my best adult voice. I didn’t want him to know I was on the verge of tears once again. I hated that I couldn’t seem to control my emotions anymore.

  “Good, good. Hopefully you didn’t exaggerate too much, like adding in AI computer viruses who colluded with Kai agents to take over the minds of powerful politicians and generals.”

  I giggled. “No, I told it as true as I could remember. Mrs. Dawes always told me that ‘truth is stranger than fiction.’ I never believed it until I saw the ship inside the mountain.”

  Dad laughed. “Mrs. Dawes was a smart old bag for sure.” His tone shifted into seriousness again. “Dennis, when we’re free to move around, you can go to Alyna if you want. As the ranking officer aboard this ship, I was able to juice the shuttle passenger schedule a little to make sure Lt. Commander Prajapati would be seated next to the Shaws. But don’t forget about your mother because you’re all puppy-eyed for your girlfriend.”

  “Dad…” I said, feeling uncomfortable.

  “Just don’t neglect your mother too much, Dennis. Remember, you might not get to see her again for a few thousand years.”

  NINE

  “Is your mother not coming?” I asked Alyna as we sat next to each other on the transfer shuttle.

  Lt. Commander Prajapati shifted in his seat and Alyna’s eyes were wet with tears. I felt stupid for asking the question out loud even though I couldn’t have possibly known what their body language now confirmed.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered to Alyna. “Was it the Kai?”

  “No… sorta” she whispered, squeezing her fingers around mine with a force that would have made my father proud.

  “What does that mean?”

  “She died at Bregon in the minefield above the planet.” I felt Alyna shudder and wished I had never opened my mouth. “When the Navy arrived to evacuate, they had to open the minefields with nukes. She was one of the first to evac since she was a Coalition ambassador, but a stray mine attached itself to a lift thruster and detonated.”

  I waited for Alyna to say more, but she closed her eyes and squeezed out the tears. Her father smiled at me, but it was full of pain and loss, and maybe anger at having to watch his daughter be reminded of it by a dumb, lovesick kid. He gripped my shoulder briefly, letting me know in that one gesture that I hadn’t done anything wrong, then wrapped his arm around Alyna’s shoulders and held her while she cried. I tried to let go of her hand so she could grieve with her father, but she refused to let go. I felt my mother’s hand slip into mine to my right and watched a single tear make it a centimeter down her cheek before floating off.

  The ride took two hours and would have bored me into a coma without my comm or Alyna next to me. Because Alyna was next to me, our hands never separating other than to wipe the clammy sweat on our pants, I didn’t look at my comm for more than a few seconds. When I did look, what I saw was incredible. Four identical, silvery, sleek ships were five hundred kilometers apart, and all were half that distance to Genesis-3. I spent a few seconds replaying Dante’s shuttle transfer followed by Osaka’s turn, impressed at the dozens of icons moving back and forth with purpose and efficiency.

  Our shuttle was mostly silent, only a few conversations audible as quiet voices whispered questions and concerns. My father had done his best to let everyone know what was happening, though I suspected most of the non-civilians already knew or had enough intelligence to figure it out. Parents had found the easiest route to calming younger children was to tell them we were all traveling to a new world, far beyond the stellar neighborhoods we’d been fighting and dying for. It was an adventure, a game where children would dream out loud about purple skies, dinosaurs, and friendly aliens who didn’t look like the bogeymen from scary adult movies.

  The few adults who were too anxious to relax were the ones my mother gravitated toward. Even if someone wasn’t impressed with her military heroics, they respected that she had faced down certain death and somehow found the courage to overcome impossible odds every step of the way to prevail. They respected her more for the fact she never made it about herself, never saw herself as the hero. She berated herself for the ones she could have saved but chose to save herself instead.

  She understood how victory required sacrifice and choices that could haunt a person for the rest of her life. Lara Shaw wasn’t a hero, according to Lara Shaw. She was a scared human being heading into the unknowable future just like everyone else. Her only advantage was that she’d been in similar situations before and held on to the knowledge that she was capable of keeping her wits about her well enough to stay alive.

  —|—

  The shuttle’s maglock skids touched down on Genesis-3’s hull with a thump. A few nervous voices were quickly masked by nervous laughter. Everyone on the shuttle was military (or family of military) and were familiar with shuttle transfers between capitals, though very few had ever landed outside of a docking bay in open space. Dad explained to everyone aloud a few minutes earlier that we couldn’t use Genesis’ docking bays, as they were already packed to the last cubic centimeter with supplies and orbital shuttles to help us when we finally arrived.

  No one had questioned whether or not we would arrive somewhere. Admiral Shaw’s matter-of-fact explanations were sound, logical, and almost certainly had been simulated millions of times on Coalition supercomputers designed solely for such a task. No one questioned the fact that Genesis-3 and Genesis-4 didn’t have a specific destination once we finally launched on our journey into the unknown. My father made it sound so simple that it seemed like common sense.

  With a few hundred billion stars in the galaxy, and based on the number of planets the Coalition had been able to find that supported human life with minimal terraforming, Genesis-3 would have a plethora of worlds to choose
from. The combined resources of Genesis-3 and -4—such as the thousands of planetary survey drones, the staggering number of seeds and animal embryos, and the genetic diversity among both the passengers as well as the stockpiles of DNA material—meant life would be rough for the first generation or two, but not impossible. My imagination piped up and added in the variables of alien biologicals who might be lethal to us, weird orbital patterns that wouldn’t reveal an apocalyptic reoccurring solar flare for a century, or maybe an old human disease we suddenly couldn’t cure without proper labs and trained, experienced doctors.

  Whatever was happening to me internally wasn’t helped by my sudden thrust into early adulthood. I knew I’d hit puberty, but no doctor or book could accurately describe the storms that erupted inside me without a moment’s notice. The intense longing I felt to be near a girl who would have been yuck-city even a year ago was more frightening than pleasurable. The overflow of emotions when I looked at my parents, especially my mother, made me feel sick more than it made me feel proud. Not sick from disgust, but because I loved them and had to watch them hold back their own sorrow to keep others from falling apart.

  Some of it was guilt at how I didn’t want to spend time with my mother because of Alyna. On top of all that was the knowledge I was about to go into hibernation and… and that’s all I could possibly know. I didn’t like the thought of my future being a black hole without the slightest hint of where we might end up.

  —|—

  My bleak thoughts were interrupted by the alert ding to remove our restraints and make our way into Genesis-3. Alyna’s father was the head of our row and led us down the passageway into the seedship. I held on to Alyna’s hand as best I could while Mom kept her hand on my shoulder as best she could. The seedship was eerily silent, but I took that to be a sign the techs were efficient at getting everyone zipped up.

  “We only have a few minutes before we have to be in the tanks, Dennis,” Mom said softly in my ear. “Say your goodbyes now. Be positive and remind her that you two will be together again when we wake up.”

  “Get as many kisses as you can, son,” Dad whispered, but loud enough that it might as well have been announced over the ship’s comm.

  “Dad!” I hissed.

  He winked at me and Mom kissed me on the cheek. Both purposely turned away to give us some privacy, though that was in short supply on D-Deck. Alyna’s father whispered something in her ear then moved toward his creche. I looked around at the open deck with hundreds of pods and the same number of humans who all seemed to be staring at us.

  “We only have a minute or two,” I said.

  Even my whispers came out in a cracking, see-saw pitch. I couldn’t stop shaking. Alyna wrapped her arms around me and held me tight.

  “I love you,” I said in her ear before wishing I could disappear from the universe for being so stupid. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to lo—”

  She cut off my words with a kiss. It was different than the awkward kisses we’d exchanged before. I wanted to gag when her tongue touched my lips because it was gross and wet—yet my brain demanded I do no such thing or it would hate me forever. The slimy curling of someone else’s tongue around mine was gross for the first second. Then it wasn’t gross at all, but something far more dangerous. My imagination kept trying to trick me into thinking I was covered in liquid plasma, the kind that resides in a battleship’s fusion reactors. The lower half of my body was where it hurt the worst.

  “Are we going to be okay?” she asked, breaking away before I could melt into atomized goop.

  I blinked at least fifty times while I tried to catch my breath and not pant like a dog. The way she looked at me galvanized the suddenly-girl-crazy love I’d felt into something unexplainable—other than I was sure the entire universe had just shifted on its axis.

  “I don’t know,” I said, choosing to not lie to her. “But no matter what, I’ll be zipped up next to you.”

  Alyna’s father touched her on the shoulder to let her know it was time. I could feel my parents’ eyes on my back, especially after an impatient cough from one of the techs was directed at us. Alyna gave me a light kiss on the lips. I wanted her to say something, anything, but she let go of my hand and allowed her father to help her into the creche.

  Two hands touched my back at the same time. I tried my best but couldn’t stop the tears. Mom’s soft voice was unable to penetrate the sudden sadness, the loneliness that ate away at my surety we’d wake up over a tropical world or somewhere else that wasn’t just habitable, but a literal paradise. My dad kneeled down and wiped the tears from my cheeks with his sleeve. He hugged me until another tech coughed displeasure at our stalling.

  Both hugged me one last time and told me they loved me. I almost lost it and became five years old again, screaming, clutching, refusing to let go of either parent. Dad helped me into the creche. I did panic when a bundle of tubes dropped next to my head.

  “Shhh, Denny,” Mom said while my father hooked me up to the waste system. “It’s not that much different from Icarus’ creches. These are designed for long-term hibernation, not combat. They’ll make sure your body gets everything it needs during the long sleep.”

  “Okay,” I said, my voice trembling.

  The insertion of tubes into my various orifices should have been more unpleasant, but my brain caught a sudden passing memory of Sgt. Valmon informing me that the gel was not only able to protect me from gravitation forces and my own waste, it could administer pharmaceuticals and act as a lubricant. I hadn’t understood the odd grin he’d given me after his stilted, meandering explanation about lubricants, but I felt the same grin slowly creep onto my face now that I understood it perfectly.

  Mom and Dad kissed me on each cheek one last time then ordered the tech to zip me up. I was afraid. I couldn’t have my comm or goggles. The creches weren’t linked for any kind of user data or voice traffic. The uncomfortable sensation of being attached to the creche’s waste and life support systems was the rotten cherry on top of everything.

  I was cold. I suddenly didn’t want to go wherever Genesis-3 was taking us. I didn’t want to be a meter apart from my parents and Alyna. That meter was a barrier which couldn’t be breached, couldn’t be crossed. That short meter could only be erased if we survived.

  I began to feel sleepy within a few minutes. I assumed it was only a few minutes. Time didn’t feel the same inside of the grey world of a hibernation creche. I had a sudden, drowsy regret that I didn’t even get to watch Icarus and the others make their final, majestic run into GS-38.1.

  LAUNCH SEQUENCE II

  By Travis Hill

  Copyright 2017

  Covert art by: Jeff Brown

  http://www.jeffbrowngraphics.com

  (NOTE: Glossary/Terminology can be bookmarked for reference in most e-reader devices/apps)

  ONE

  Irina closed the emergency Wire link and stood up. Her legs took her in the direction she needed to go while her mind whirled as it pieced together the chain of events that forced Command to initiate the Nightfall directive. She left her quarters and paid no attention to the awkward salutes from TCN Raiden’s crew as she passed them in the long corridors. Irina lifted her wrist and punched in the captain’s code.

  “Meyer,” said a voice in her earbud.

  “Captain Meyer, I need to see you and Admiral Huang immediately,” she said.

  “I’m tied up at the moment, Commander. Can it wait?”

  “I’m afraid not, Captain. I’m outside the bridge now. Where shall we meet?”

  “Okay, hold on,” Meyer said with irritation. “I’ll ping the admiral and we’ll meet in my office.”

  “Roger that,” Irina said and closed the link.

  She spun awkwardly on her heel and made her way to the lift, giving a smile to the three ensigns who visibly trembled in her presence. If the command directive she’d just received hadn’t been such a serious matter, she would have flared out her arms and pretended to be the bogey
man just to see the sailors’ reactions. The few times Commander Irina Drazek had done it on other ships she’d been assigned to, the looks and cowers of fear she’d induced were priceless memories, as were the disbelieving receptions of her chuckle-filled apologies and offers of a round of drinks on her.

  Nightfall had forced her odd sense of humor into a pitch-black dungeon. Once her smile wore off, the sailors nearly pressed themselves into the lift’s walls. Special Operations spooks were scary enough in the stories and rumors passed around by enlisted crew. In person, even without their legendary CR-33 battle suits, they were far more intimidating.

  The lift whispered to a stop on Deck 4. Irina winked at the three ensigns, who did everything they could to avoid looking at her while giving a shaky salute before she stepped out. Her thoughts continued to churn over the directive’s instructions while her feet followed the blue line in the floor that led to Meyer’s cabin. It slid open before she came to a stop, Meyer waving her in.

  “Good morning, Commander,” Admiral Huang said after the door closed.

  Irina heard the annoyance in his voice and knew it was quickly going to become anger, then rage.

  “Admiral Huang, Captain Meyer,” she said, saluting each man. “May I sit? I’m afraid we must have an unpleasant discussion.”

  Huang’s eyes immediately narrowed, his fake smile melting into a scowl. Irina knew the admiral distrusted all SpecOps types, especially field agents who seemed to love nothing more than to ruin a perfectly good plan with orders originating five hundred light-years away by men and women who sat behind desks instead of inside combat control holo pits.

  “By all means, Commander,” the admiral said, holding back the sneer he felt trying to slip out. “What can I do for you?”

  “Admiral Huang, I’m sorry for this,” she began. She saw Meyer’s hand swing up as if to use his comm to call Security. “Please, Captain Meyer, you don’t want to do anything but listen to me.”