The Sol-Bect War, Part 2

By Paul Belanger

The war against the Bect rages on. Humanity, after spending years reacting and retreating, is now on the offensive. The Bect show no sign of letting up on their assault, however, and begin to send larger forces against us. Our weapons and tactics may have improved, but our forces are beginning to dwindle.

And the strange newcomer who showed us a path to victory, Peter McCabe, is Missing-In-Action and presumed dead. Can the human war machine complete what he started?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lost Luggage Studios, LLC
• Release date: Feb 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781936489084

Paul Belanger

Paul J Belanger was born in Western Massachusetts in 1966. He joined the Air Force at 18 as an aircraft electrician and became interested in aviation. In 1988 he began flying, earned his private pilot certificate in 1992, and moved to Colorado Springs to complete flight school. Paul currently lives in Maine where he is a flight instructor, charter pilot, and co-owner of a computer gaming software company, Lost Luggage Studios LLC, with his brother Jamie.

Book preview

May

2348

Chapter 1

Welcome aboard the United Earth carrier Mifflin. I am Lieutenant Colonel Amber Moon, the Flight Group Commander of the Mifflin Battle Group.

Lieutenant Colonel Amber Moon was in her late thirties, standing one hundred and sixty-five centimeters tall and weighing barely fifty kilograms. She was of oriental descent with short brown hair and large brown eyes. Her white undress uniform was in pristine condition and the rack of ribbons under her gold wings showed her to be a competent and accomplished combat fighter pilot.

Lieutenant Colonel Moon stood in front of an auditorium with three hundred and twenty-two new recruits. It was her duty, since all of the other commanders were mysteriously busy, to give the welcome aboard speech to everyone. She enjoyed the challenge even though she would deny it to your face if asked.

I'm going to try and get you all up to speed on what is currently happening in this war, just so you have half a clue before going to work full time on this carrier. I am happy to say that we are starting to cause the Bectolothians some grief, we are no longer losing horribly.

The auditorium erupted in clapping and cheering and Lieutenant Colonel Moon smiled and nodded. It felt good to finally say something positive about the war, something other than that they were positively losing. That never did much for morale. She raised both hands to quiet the large group of people.

"The Mifflin has been busy protecting the planets of the United Earth and various shipping between them. Along with the carriers Griswold and Wetherill, we have been occupied in our own little section of the war while the rest of the Fleet have been busy with theirs.

Have you all heard of Captain Peter McCabe? Lieutenant Colonel Moon waited and looked around the quiet auditorium. Several people nodded while others looked sad. The news had spread fast and she would have been surprised if a single one of them had not heard of Captain McCabe. Everyone in the entire United Earth circle should know his name because he had done so much for the war effort.

Well, I actually met Captain McCabe on Virginia Prime a couple months ago. He was teaching a two week class of instructors and Flight Group Commanders. It was then that the Stilettos received the laser and pylon upgrades, allowing us to wreak havoc on the enemy. Did you know that it was Captain McCabe that came up with those upgrades? Many people had shocked looks on their faces and some mumbling commenced.

"Captain McCabe has done a lot for us. Unfortunately, the rumors are true. He is listed as Missing-In-Action, but presumed dead. According to reports from the Ticonderoga Battle Group, he and seven other pilots sacrificed their lives to save their Group from certain death. How many of you would give the ultimate sacrifice for thousands of people you don't know? I'm not sure if I could do it, not many are. You probably don't know until the time comes, or the opportunity presents itself.

Oh well, I digress, said Lieutenant Colonel Moon. She shifted feet and looked at the notes on the podium in front of her. She had very little to cover and her primary mission was to boost morale, which was not an easy task when mentioning that sad news. But mentioning Captain McCabe was an essential part of her speech. The newcomers would get more specific information once they reached their duty sections.

Captain McCabe said it best, everyone on this carrier serves a purpose. So don't think that what you do, however small it may seem, makes no difference, because it does. I personally like the hamburgers that Captain McCabe once mentioned in a speech, and usually long for them after a hard day of work.

Several people clapped and she had to laugh. Captain McCabe was such a strange individual. She still was not certain if he really came from the past or if that was just an elaborate hoax. People tended to exaggerate the simplest of things to make them more appealing. Many people believed it to be a lie created so that the changes he made appeared to come from some kind of esoteric knowledge. The truth? She would probably never know.

So, let's get busy and win this war so that Captain McCabe's ideas, hard work, and ultimate sacrifice mean something. I don't want to let this positive momentum end when we have done so much and made so much progress over the last month and a half. We still have a long way to go and just because we lost our driving force it doesn't mean we have to lose our drive. There are plenty more Bect to kill out there and we run into them quite frequently. Do your part and help United Earth triumph over the alien invaders. Dismissed.

The auditorium once again echoed with cheers as the entire group stood and clapped. Lieutenant Colonel Amber Moon smiled, saluted, and marched off the stage. Her job was done, until the next group of recruits arrived. Then she would get to do it all over again.

Chapter 2

Lieutenant Commander Emily Conrad paced in the hallway as she waited impatiently for Lieutenant Colonel Terry Nelson to finish talking with one of his pilots. The bags under her eyes displayed the restless nights over the past three days as she worried about Peter. No one seemed to know anything about his fate, and that of his flight. All she had been told was that Captain Peter McCabe and seven other pilots stayed back to deter a large Bect force from attacking the Ticonderoga Group. Missing-In-Action, presumed dead. What did that mean? She did not want to think too much about it. MIA meant there was still a chance and she grasped onto that.

She continued wringing her empty hands as she walked almost in circles, wanting to stay as close to the Lieutenant Colonel's door as she possibly could. Emily had done the same thing these past days, wanting news, any kind of news. The not knowing part was the hardest. Part of her realized that he could be dead. Those words, presumed dead, had some finality to them. All the odds were stacked against Peter. If he survived then he would have been back already. If he was hurt then the decision to go back needed to be made soon enough that he did not run out of supplies. She absolutely hated the unknown. It was tearing her guts up inside and the lack of eating and sleeping was slowly destroying her.

The door opened and Emily stopped as a first lieutenant exited and disappeared down the hallway. Terry looked out of his door at her and forced a smile. She knew he was forcing it, but he was always friendly to her. He wanted some kind of news as much as she did.

Good morning, Emily. Terry motioned for her to come into his office and she followed. Would you like some coffee?

Please. Emily sat in front of his desk and could not get comfortable. She wanted to ask the same questions as she had the previous days but knew that Terry would seek her out if he had news.

Terry closed his door and poured two cups of coffee, handing her one. She never added anything to it. He sat next to her and watched as she held the cup with both hands. She was shaking slightly, most likely from lack of sleep. The coffee would not help her any. He hoped that she would achieve caffeine burnout and finally get some rest. After awakening this morning, he brewed this first batch of coffee especially strong because he knew she would once again be at his door.

I'm sorry, Emily, but there is nothing new to report.

Parts of her sighed while other parts became restless. She was glad that Peter was still listed as Missing-In-Action instead of Killed-In-Action. There was a chance that he lived. But the other parts of her would like to know for sure, since she suspected that he was dead. It was the only logical conclusion. At least knowing his death as a fact would allow her to grieve and move on with life. The not knowing part was the absolute worst feeling imaginable. She hated that.

I'm sorry to keep bothering you, Colonel.

Please, call me Terry, and don't worry about that. I wish I could be of more help.

Well, you are ... Terry. You listen to my ranting. She tried to laugh but it came out oddly. She sighed and sipped her coffee. She noticed her shaking hands and acted as if it were the first time she had seen them. Emily set the cup on the desk and raised her shaking hands in front of her face to stare at them. Everything crashed down on her and she began crying.

Terry set down his cup and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him tightly and cried on his shoulder. It had been a long time since he had consoled anyone in their grief. He had only met Emily recently and did not know her that well. Sure, she was pretty, and under different circumstances he would probably chase her. But this was more awkward than anything and he was glad that his door was closed. Maybe a psychologist could help her out, doing a much better job than he ever could.

After several more minutes Emily pulled away. She wiped at her eyes to dry them and returned to her cup of coffee, avoiding Terry's eyes. I didn't mean to do that.

Don't worry about it. I'd much rather you cry on my shoulder and get it out of your system than to break down in front of your crew. Terry picked up his coffee and took a long sip.

Military protocol, said Emily, forcing a smile.

Exactly. Speaking of your ship, how are the repairs coming?

Slowly. It should be operational in a few days.

Good.

I've also asked for a different room on this ship, in the crew's quarters. I couldn't stay in that same diplomatic room anymore. All I did was cry in there.

Terry nodded, it was one of his suggestions to her. He had seen people crack before and keeping busy seemed to be the best way for someone to keep their mind occupied. That was not working so well with Emily. Her ship did not need constant attention and was currently in an unlivable condition. She was trapped on the Ticonderoga and Terry could not spend every waking moment with her. The thought did cross his mind a few times but he had his pilots to take care of. He had an entire flight department to run.

I should go, said Emily as she set the coffee cup on his desk and stood. She opened his door to leave and paused. Thank you, Terry.

Terry could not help but look at her form. Her uniform was sharply pressed and wrinkle free. Her hair was also neatly brushed and presentable. She was still taking care of herself, at least outwardly. He could see it in her face that food was not something that had any type of priority for her.

You need to eat, said Terry.

Emily nodded absently and sighed. I will.

You will accompany me to the chow hall, said Lieutenant Colonel Terry Nelson, switching into command mode. He stood and came up behind her, turning her around so he could look down into her eyes. Understood?

I'm not hungry right now. I'll eat later.

Not good enough, Commander. If you don't eat properly then you will be considered to be damaging government property. They'll confine you to a hospital bed and feed your body through tubes. Do you really want that?

Emily had no answer for him. She did not want to think of those possibilities or the ramifications.

Come with me, said Lieutenant Colonel Nelson. He grabbed her right hand with his left hand and led her down the hallway. They walked briskly to the chow hall and she did not resist. He grabbed a tray and began asking her what she liked, but she did not answer. Terry sighed, it was like dealing with a child. Be gentle or be firm? Which did the situation call for? He was not trained for this. He wanted to smack some sense into her but resisted that temptation. He filled the tray with various foodstuffs and juices and took the tray, and Emily, to a table. He sat her down and pointed to the tray, Eat.

Like an automaton, Emily began slowly putting food into her mouth. Lieutenant Colonel Nelson stood over her and watched. Others in the chow hall watched the two of them and whispered to each other but he did not care what it looked like. He glared at those watching them and they quickly looked elsewhere. He would rip everyone in that chow hall a new one if they gave him an opening. This woman was on the cusp of self-destructive behavior and he doubted he was experienced enough to even remotely help her. If she could not break out of this slump and soon then she was probably doomed.

Lieutenant Colonel Nelson placed his hands on his hips and continued watching. The mind and its processes were beyond his scope of knowledge. When Emily finished she looked up at him and a tear rolled down her cheek. Shit, thought Terry, I broke her. He grabbed her by the upper arm and lead her from the table and out the door. He left the tray for an orderly to take care of, it was the least of his concerns. He led her quickly to his office and closed the door. She latched onto him and began crying, and this time did so for many long minutes. She was a mess.

Sorry, said Emily as she broke the embrace and backed up a few small steps. She straightened her uniform and wiped her eyes.

Would you like more coffee?

Please.

Terry returned to friend mode and poured two new cups of coffee, handing her one. He touched the view screen and searched for a person that may be able to help. He pressed Connect and waited.

Major Dorney, said the lab technician. He smiled when he saw Terry and then frowned.

Bill, I need your help in my office, immediately.

I'll be right there, sir, said Major Dorney. The screen went blank and Terry wanted to sigh but resisted the urge, for Emily's sake.

Can he help me? asked Emily. She looked him in the eyes and Terry melted. Those sad eyes screamed for help and he was powerless to do anything but.

He's a doctor and scientist and knows much more about everything medical than anybody I know. He'll be able to help you.

Emily nodded and continued to sip her coffee.

Terry looked at the woman and compared her current image to the one he remembered seeing previously, only a few days ago at the dinner party. They seemed to be two different women. The other was strong and commanding. This one was weak and a puppet. The turmoil within her mind was literally ripping her apart. It saddened him to see that happen to anyone. She was such a beautiful woman and with a promising career. There was more to the mind than he could ever hope to understand.

The knock startled both of them. Come in, said Terry. The door opened and Major Dorney entered, closing the door behind him.

Colonel Nelson, good to see you again, said Major Dorney and he shook Terry's hand.

Likewise Bill. This is Lieutenant Commander Emily Conrad.

Nice to meet you, said Bill as the two of them shook hands.

Emily and Peter ... are dating, said Terry. He almost used the word were, which may have set Emily off again. Damn the Terran language, thought Terry. It was so easy to use the wrong word sometimes that it was no wonder wars started so easily in the past.

Ah, I see. Is he still Missing-In-Action? asked Bill. The urgency of the situation at hand now made sense to him. He closely examined Emily with his trained eye and assessed her current predicament within seconds.

Yes, no changes, said Terry.

Could you give us a few minutes, sir? asked Bill.

Sure, replied Terry. He grabbed his cup of coffee, exited the room, and closed the door behind him. Now it was his turn to pace in the hallway.

More than thirty minutes later the door opened and Bill exited, closing the door behind him. He took a deep breath and approached Terry.

Colonel, she's a mess alright, but she'll be okay. I'm glad you didn't wait any longer to get me involved though. It may have been too late for any passive methods.

Terry sighed and nodded slowly. What can I do to help?

You seem to be on the right track. Try to keep her occupied, somehow, which may not be too easy. Keep her fed and whatever you do, do not avoid her. One of the burdens of command begs the biggest question, who do you turn to when things are bad? She needs a friend to talk to. This will wear on you too so I'll stop by a few times a day to talk with her as well. She just needs time.

Terry nodded and smiled, Thanks Bill.

Don't hesitate to call me if you need me.

Terry took a deep breath, opened his door, entered, and closed it behind himself.

Bill watched and after several seconds he nodded, sighed, shook his head slowly, and began walking back to his office in the bowels of the ship. That sad lady had a long road ahead of her. The loss of someone you loved always hurt, and everyone seemed to handle it differently. The odds that Peter still lived were small, but there. She needed to work it through and the best chance of that rested with Terry. Bill could help, but a connection had already been made between those two. The most important thing she needed right now was a friend. He made a mental note to contact Lieutenant Colonel Nelson later.

Chapter 3

They are closing, sir, said Commander Frank Mito as he watched the long-range scanner.

Do we have a count yet? asked Captain Jefferson Washington.

Still working on that, sir.

The tension on the bridge was growing thick as the crew continued working the alien contact. It had been an hour since they had first detected them. From the assessed course of the contact, these ships were probably the force that Peter and his flight had engaged. At least that was their best guess. They had no idea how many ships had been in that original assault force nor how many they would soon need to engage. They were playing a waiting game and no one liked that game.

How's Emily doing? asked Jeff. He needed something else to occupy his mind and that was the first thought to appear. It had been a week since Peter had departed on his last mission and Jeff missed him as well.

She's a mess, but doing better, replied Terry. I asked Major Dorney for help.

Jeff nodded, Bill's a good man. He thought about Emily and how she must have felt. War was a sad business and a lot of times death was an inevitability. He missed having Peter somewhere nearby, causing him grief with all his requests. That displaced man meant a lot to him, and to the entire human race as well. Where was he?

Yes he is. Did you know Bill actually studied psychology and electronics as hobbies while attending medical school?

That man is a mystery. What the hell is he doing in the military?

No idea, said Terry.

Be careful with her, said Jeff.

Terry nodded, knowing full well the various paths he tread. At one point he tried to figure out how many possible problem areas he encroached upon. He gave up when the number exceeded his quantity of fingers. Be careful? Indeed.

Count in progress, sir, said Commander Mito. The pause was almost deafening as everyone on the bridge quietly waited. Their future would be determined by that number. If it were the force that Peter encountered, and he said it was massive, then this could very well be the end of them. Will this war ever give us a break? thought Commander Mito.

She's a strong woman, said Jeff.

Yes, she is. She actually smiled this morning.

What caused that? Jeff turned to look at Terry and his mind began flashing caution signs. It would be nice if she could bounce back from this suffering and become functional again. Her ship was almost ready for service and it needed its commander.

I slipped some cinnamon into her coffee and didn't tell her. It was a pleasant surprise for her.

Good, said Jeff. I hope you build her strong enough that when the inevitable change of his status to Killed-In-Action comes it doesn't cause her to implode.

Terry nodded in reply. That was what he had been working toward. He tried to drop hints every so often, but without any real answer all they could be were possibilities. At least she was eating more normally now and actually sleeping at night. In some ways he missed her crying on his shoulder, but in other ways it made him uncomfortable. It was a dichotomy he probably would never fully understand.

The count is in, sir, said Commander Mito, and you are not going to like it.

What is it?

Best estimate is nine cruisers, two unknowns, one tanker, thirty-seven fighters, and six bombers.

God help us, said Captain Washington.

That seems awfully light on fighter support for that many capital ships, said Lieutenant Colonel Nelson.

Captain Washington had to agree with his Flight Group Commander. For that many cruisers to be present they must have begun with a sizable force. He was surprised that none of his officers had asked the logical question. No carrier?

None, sir, replied Commander Mito. Captain McCabe and his flight must have destroyed it.

Well, let's do that man proud and clean up the rest of the garbage for him. Sound general quarters, said Captain Washington. It was time to return to the business of war, and he had some payback to deliver for his friend. Standby all crew for battle.

Aye aye, sir, yelled out several of the crew members as they quickly passed the orders around. What once had been a fight of futility, desperation, and evasion was now one of payback. It was time to take their newfound skills and return death to the enemy.

*

Major Silvio Brannick smiled for the first time in a very long time. As he sat in his Stiletto he was excited about the coming battle. He was no longer the bastard child set to always defend the Group from attack. He had been doing quite well in the simulator because he had a lot of anger to expend about the entire flight-duty system. He quickly learned to channel that anger to one of skilled destructiveness. This battle would be the first test of those honed skills in actual combat. He was more than ready for the challenge.

Alright everyone, you know the drill, said Major Brannick on the short-range frequency. Being the highest-ranking flying pilot, he was in charge of the attack. The coming assault was thoroughly briefed beforehand and he defaulted several times to more skilled and active pilots when necessary. He was most impressed with the knowledge and tactics from that young captain, Carlos Mendez. He was going to like working with that man. We'll launch all of our missiles at the capital ships as per the ICIS resolution. Got that?

Yes sir, came several responses over the frequency. The amount of chatter was definitely comical in nature. No one knew for certain if their recent change from remaining quiet to information overload was helping or not.

Engage! yelled Major Brannick as he pushed his throttles forward.

Remember your training, yelled Captain Carlos Mendez over the command frequency. For Peter, let's go! Several shouts, cheers, and other colorful phrases bounced around the frequency, causing a few of the female crew to blush.

Does anybody know where the alien's testicles are? My boots were made for kicking, said First Lieutenant Randy Taylor. ICIS, Instantaneous Combat Information System, worked on a firing solution and presented him with a juicy unknown target as his primary. His mind wandered as he tried to recall if ICIS had any limitation to the number of targets it could track and resolve. He shook his head to clear his mind so he could concentrate on the task at hand: destroying Bect capital ships, and lots of them.

Count me in, said First Lieutenant Miguel Rodriguez. He veered his squadron to the right of the main assault force and increased inclines.

*

Quite colorful comments, said Captain Washington as he looked to Lieutenant Colonel Nelson. I'm learning some new ones.

Me too, replied Lieutenant Colonel Nelson through clenched teeth.

Missiles away, came Major Silvio Brannick's voice over the short-range frequency. Soon every single pilot began broadcasting their missile launches. The officer in charge of monitoring the short-range frequency had the foresight to turn the volume down once the battle began. Captain Washington made a mental note to commend the man on that. Information overload could work both ways.

Missile launches continued as all eight missiles from every fighter in three squadrons left the wing pylons. Almost four hundred missiles, the most ever fielded at a single time, crossed the area between both forces. Captain Washington held his breath as the missiles traversed space. There was a lot riding on this one battle. If those capital ships lived, and were able to reduce the human's fighter cover, the remainder of the Ticonderoga Battle Group would be destroyed. It was a life-or-death battle for them all. In the larger scheme of things, this one battle could decide the fate of the entire human race.

The missile impacts and resulting flashes were brilliant beyond belief. Within a handful of seconds, the shock wave impacted the carrier and knocked Captain Washington off his feet. Being partially blinded and lying on the floor, he found himself disoriented.

Damage report, yelled Captain Washington.

Standby, said the Ensign strapped into his seat. He checked his screens and a few seconds later he replied, All decks report minor damage. Structural integrity is intact.

What's going on out there? asked Captain Washington. He shook his head from side to side and slowly stood, running his right hand over his head. The wait for an answer was taking a lot longer than he liked and he opened his mouth to ask more forcefully, but was cut off.

Not really sure, sir, said Commander Mito. The debris field is enormous. He punched several buttons rapidly and tried to zoom in on the action but failed. There was too much junk scattered about to sort through and the computers were coming up blank. He sighed in frustration and pressed the microphone button on his belt.

Major Brannick, status report, said Commander Mito. He had to repeat himself three times before he received an answer.

*

All capital ships have been destroyed. We're mopping up the remaining fighters and bombers right now. Give us a minute and we'll have this section of space cleared for you, sir. Major Brannick smiled, even larger this time. That was the most fun he ever remembered having. He lined up on a bomber and proceeded to fill it with laser blasts until it popped. It's good to be in combat again, thought Major Brannick.

Captain Carlos Mendez smiled as well. He quickly removed three slugs from creation before he had a chance to exhale his current breath. Peter had done so much to help them and this one battle proved to him, and the entire Ticonderoga Group, that they could function without Peter. Carlos did not really want to think about Peter not being there. It would have been a glorious day for Peter to have seen this battle. Maybe he did? No one ever really knew the answer to that question.

Thank you, Peter, said Carlos to himself. At first he did not know how to take that man. He thought he may have been a spy. How ridiculous that line of thinking was.

*

All enemy activity has been silenced, said Major Brannick's voice over the command frequency. Second Defend Squadron take up patrol. The rest of us, return for landing.

The cheers were exhilarating. The smile on Captain Washington's face mirrored those of the men and women around him. For them to cause so much damage to the Bect so quickly, it was unheard of, until now.

Terry, damage report, said Captain Washington.

Three Stilettos damaged, one moderate and the other two very minor. Most of the damage received was from the debris field.

How many losses?

None, sir, replied Terry.

None? asked Jeff in disbelief and surprise.

None.

Damn.

Chapter 4

Sir, said the Ensign on duty at the communication station. We are receiving the sealed-beam transmission from the passive probe we dropped before leaving Vale-4.

"Damn, it's been over a