“Just shrug it off, man. I’ll blow over in a week, maybe two. Plenty more shit happening on this rock than two dudes kissing.”
Alex didn’t sound the least bit confident about his suggestion.
Liam groaned. “Christ, I hope so.”
Was it wrong to pray for an earthquake or something? Not with deaths or calamity or shit, but with enough rolling rock to divert the media’s attention.
* * *
The distraction didn’t last a day, however. Tuesday dawned with an artificial circle sliced from the sun’s glowing orb. The Targolt ship had arrived. That afternoon, Liam stood with his friends in the blocks-long line outside the neighborhood military recruitment office.
Determination steeled his spine. Defiance filled his heart.
Earth was their home. She would not be taken.
* * *
Deep inside the bowels of the Urilqii outpost near the confluence of the Pacific Ocean and the Columbia River, Sergeant Mike and his cabal’s command staff stood around a holographic display and contemplated the ugly, aggressively alien ship just beyond the system’s star’s corona. Waves from the recent warp of space’s fabric disturbed the holograph’s images.
The Targolt used the gravity well of a star to thin and stretch space to the point they could simply push through, like a rock thrown into a pool of water, leaving the egress of space fabric to slam closed with a ripple of sound and stress. Urilqii equipment could document and trace the event.
Space was a very busy place, all things considered. But tracking the ships was the easy part. Battle, however, was not.
Neither the Urilqii nor the Targolt enjoyed greater than a fifty-fifty chance of success at any time. The slimy bastards were hard to kill.
They probably felt the same way about his people.
Fuck ’em. They shouldn’t have screwed with his planet in the first place. We defended our home and kicked their asses off it.
More, that one bad choice had brought the Targolt losses, defeat, and had forged an eternal enemy. Now the Urilqii avenged their home world’s damage by going hard to the limit—and beyond.
The division commander’s image shifted in the periphery of his vision and pulled Mike from his thoughts. Deployed on the far side of a gas giant and inside the flagship parked in the shadows thrown by the rings, High Commander’s holograph crackled and flickered from space fabric’s recent disturbance.
His and their two other cabals had been busy in the system, setting space-faring tools and processes in place to protect Earth once his people departed. The Targolt arrival, however, had pulled everyone’s attention from boredom and duty to intensity and eagerness.
“Leagues of the information are missing from this dynamic,” mused High Commander. “The necessary liquid has not yet risen over rock and yet they arrive.”
He reached a finger on his side of the communications to tap his screens, which caused everyone’s display to shift. The Targolt ship began a slow rotation that allowed every side and angle to be examined.
“Armed”—the E’ssennet cabal commander, who stood beside Mike, stroked his chin thoughtfully—”and aggressive, no question.”
“Surely in response to our successful reclamation efforts on this planet,” said the Envoy from the other side of the holograph.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“No doubt.” High Commander touched his screen again and stopped the image’s rotation. “It’s impossible to colonize a planet when their climate project fails.”
Everyone smiled. Mike didn’t bother to stifle the gleeful satisfaction stirring his soul.
“How long until they’re here?”
Mike had that answer. “By evaluating the vector of the Targolt ship’s arrival and ongoing path, and applying that data against the orbital path of this planet, we can expect contact in two months.”
“Months?”
Oops. He braced himself against a tide of embarrassment.
“Ah, apologies, sir. The Envoy commanded us to utilize the local vernacular whenever possible. Habit, sir. I meant no offense.”
The Envoy nodded. “Yes, it works in order for this cabal to better integrate with the resident dominant species.”
“Clarify the term, Sergeant.”
Thankfully, the commander didn’t sound irked, only curious.
“This planet tells time by the phase of its satellite,” he explained. “From bright face to dark face, that time is considered ‘a month.’”
“Odd.” He stood for a moment, processing the information, then spoke again. “If I understand you correctly, Sergeant, it will take two full phases of this planet’s satellite before the Targolt will be in position to take action.”
“Yes, sir.” Mike reached for the control box on the table and tapped a series of icons. “Our best estimation, made on orbital speed and the incoming ship, brings probable contact at these orbital coordinates. Sending now.”
He put the words to action. The machine gave a sharp chirp as data leapt between the two communication units. The machine on the other side of the conference blipped, its sound softened by the distance between them. Once again, the commander paused as he processed information. After a moment, he spoke again.
“Excellent. Let’s prepare. Scruff up, Sergeant. We’ll bring it to them hard.”
Everyone gave a whoop of support…except for the Envoy.
“One thing, sir. I propose an embedded platoon of humanity’s militia into our four globally placed cabals.”
High Commander stared at the Envoy, dumbfounded. “What?”
The E’ssennet Commander at Mike’s side of the table looked even more taken aback.
“You want humans near our equipment?” He sputtered the question. “This species can’t even get along among themselves, and you want them within arm’s reach of our weaponry?”
Mike had to agree with those reactions. Quarrelsome and belligerent at the best of times, a chunk of humans near enough to their weapons for easy access didn’t sound like one of the Envoy’s more spectacular suggestions.
A beatific smile topped the political polish of the shocking suggestion. “Our hosts will be afraid of the Targolt and of us. Embedded militia will give them comfort. It will offer a feeling of control.”
Complete bullshit, thought Mike.
The Envoy pressed his agenda. “Such is critical since we are not here to engender a sense of deference in the dominant species.”
“Of course not,” said High Commander from his ship’s bridge, planets distant.
Mike stifled the urge to roll his eyes. The
