Chapter 3

LIBERTY 72 at Sidvoya 3, at 4,964 Light Years from Earth in the direction of the Galactic Core

           On the way out to the Galactic Core, or perhaps more accurately in the galactic perspective on the way in, LIBERTY 72 had crossed through both the Lagoon and Trifid Nebulae, but on the return trip, because LIBERTY 72 was headed to Earth from a different vector, the ship would pass them at a distance. Trifid’s closest point of approach was less than an hour ago, and already the Lagoon Nebula was apparent as a blinding cloud of somewhat artificial luminescence, so large that it took nearly ten minutes for the ship to cross at its side the end of the Lagoon Nebula facing the Galactic Core to the point at which it crossed the side facing Earth at ISM Six. Just as Fioha Secowm had promised on this course back to Earth, a very fine fuel source was to be found on a planet the ship’s registry at the Survey Station simply automatically labeled as Sidvoya 3. Sensors indicated this planet was dominated by huge dinosaur-like creatures on the continents, with conditions in the ocean indicating a wide variety of aquatic and fish life – some of it very large. It would make for an interesting official survey – later. For now the goal was to set down somewhere hopefully far from the closest gigantic sea creature, to take on fuel. The timing could not be better, because the ship was nearly out of fuel again. Many of the humans were skeptical that Carr should have put so much faith in the alien from another planet, but Carr never had any doubt in Secowm. The ship entered the atmosphere and smoothly glided down upon a smooth ocean surface at night. Confident of the safety of the area based on consistent underwater sensor sweeps, many of the crew even went out for a Night Swim behind the LLS Bay, and a good time was had by all as the ship’s camaraderie improved, even with the alien they had doubted.

           Within twelve hours, under a noontime sun, the ship was ready to go, and using the Linear Spike Engines LIBERTY 72 blasted off the ocean surface, and then into space, and then to a place out of orbit where the speed of 0.25c had been attained. The LSE’s were turned off, the TRS Engines were activated, and all within less than 18 hours the ship was back at ISM 6, on its way to Earth again.

* * *

SUANER 2, at 625 Light Years from Earth in the direction of the Galactic Core

           Using the twilight of dawn and dusk for more days than she could count with reliability given her dehydrated body and increasingly frequent delusions, visions of mirages and hallucinations, Cynthia Esperanza Ferrando prepared to return to her Escape Capsule one last time to record her goodbye statement to life and the universe. But each time before she had started, she reminded herself of her middle name and stopped short of giving up entirely. But today she realized how hopeless her situation truly was. Both Escape Capsules that made it to Suaner 2 landed, but one landed more safely than the other. The one containing Stephen Taylor lost its closed-loop automated abilities and made a steep, fast plunge into the atmosphere not unlike a meteor’s arrival. Several hundred miles short of where Ferrando’s Escape Capsule landed, there was no point in going to it. Taylor was dead, if not by the heat of the entry then by the force of impact with the planet’s surface. Ferrando had lost computer control of her own Escape Capsule but using manual steering made adequate through her enhanced physical strength she was able to bring her vehicle to a safe landing manually. Ferrando had estimated that since the air was breathable that there had to be some sort of water-based weather system on this planet, but to date the only clouds she had seen were delusions. There were no oceans, and no plants or animals on the planet, from her best observations. She had dug deep trenches with her hands into the landscape of hot golden sand from one horizon to another, only to find several dozen feet below was cracked limestone under which water would have fallen to deeper depths in the planet’s crust.

           She was now tired, with blurring vision, a terrible headache, and a dizziness she had not experienced before as she made her way back to the Escape Capsule as dawn approached. She pondered what she would say in her farewell speech. Her mental faculties leaving her own memory unreliable, all she knew to say was that it was her duty to admit that this was all her fault, what happened to her ship and her crew.

            Over the last sand dune she climbed, she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a medium-sized transport next to her Escape Capsule. She was so stunned that she fell to her knees and then to her side. Within seconds the man who had been peering inside her Escape Capsule was at her side.

            “Yo, girl you’re some of the coldest Ice Cream I’ve seen in a while. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Carlos Martinez, and that, my friend, is my slab, the Sunshine Mining transport Key West.”

            “Just great,” said Ferrando as she opened her eyes, turning to the overly adorned vehicle. “I must be in hell. No one talks like he has a third-grade education in heaven, or in space.”

            “Yo, girl, I ain’t frontin’ Why do you wanna diss me like that? And why you on the grind like this? Are you smacked?”

            “¿Podemos hablar en Español o una otra lengua civilizada?”

            “I’m not high numbers. Here,” he said as he slowly poured water from a canteen into her lips and then tongue and then mouth slowly. This was the first water she had seen in more than a week, “Ésta es agua potable y segura … de Roata 2 - goce de cada molécula.”

           “I am … enjoying every molecule,” she assured him as she truly enjoyed the water. “Thank you. So you’re from Roata 2?”

           “Yes. First generation settler.”

           “That explains your lack of gravitas. Humans have only been there about two and a half Earth years. There are no high numbers there – because there are no prisons there. But seems to me that everyone I’ve ever met from there is a bunch of Rah-rah’s who belong in prison.”

           “It’s all about the Rainbow dough. Nothing more, and nothing less. Sooner than you may think, you’ll see for yourself.”

           “So you’re taking me there?”

           “It’s home. Would you rather stay here?”

           “No,” she said without hesitation.

           “Okay, then. Let’s try our introductions again. I’m Carlos Martinez, and you are?”

           “You can call me Sydn. ….no … Sandy … yes, Sandy Ferraro … I think. Hell. I can’t even remember my own name. The Commander will do for now until my brain gets some electrolyte balance back.”

           “Who are you accusing of using slang?” She ignored him. “At least you’re a soapy boo. We need to bounce to my crib before the sun gets too hot. But before then, I have to ask you about Suaner 4.”

           Tear glands opened and she cried without tears. “It’s gone.”

           “I know. I came to drop cakes of Rechi and to get laced with a huge stack of paper. But the biggest part of the station I was supposed to dock with is the size of my thumb. The planet looks like doomsday just struck it. So if you’re here, where is your command, Commander?”

           “I don’t know.”

           “You don’t know, or you won’t tell me?”

           “Both.”

           “Commander, I’m late for a date, and if I don’t check up on my staff I’ll find my establishment under new ownership, and I have some whale weight to sell before someone comes looking for the Spenderos they invested with me for this trip. Your life is played out and whack right now, and it’s time for us to walk the dog or my life will be played out and whack, too.”

           “You’re probably right.” If there was anything Ferrando knew from a youth in poverty, it was how to understand the language of adaptive inferiority. She grew up surrounded by schoolmates who stayed alive by being as uncivilized and as unimpressive as possible. Unlike them, she stayed in school. But the others she knew would find Roata 2 to be an attractive new home, where the only law was that there were no laws. She would hate every second of living there, but at least she would be alive to complain about it. “I guess it beats being here.”

           “Commander, Roata 2 saw a ship headed this way, from Liberty Enterprises. I just don’t have time this trip to find it, but I know it’s still in this star system, somewhere. I intercepted all the calls you made to them as your light-speed calls hit my ship’s computers on my way in.”

           “Don’t you have sensors on the Key West?”

           “I do, but they’re only good for a thirty degree search isolation and I don’t have time to play 20 questions with my limited computers, or with you if you don’t want to help me. Sunshine Mining is a profit center, not a scientific exploration outfit.”

           “That’s funny – I’ve heard that somewhere before. So, what you intend to do is to go back to Roata 2, take care of some business, and then come back here to the Suaner Star System to find this ship you’re looking for? What I can tell you is that it is very unlikely anyone is alive on that ship.”

           “That would be all the better,” said Martinez. “With the superior computers on Liberty Enterprises designs, I’m sure it will fly itself back to Roata 2. I’m not interested in the crew – I’m interested in the bammers that can wet a planet the size of Suaner 4 like that. Those must be some llama to those slugs. Imagine how I can go Elkin’ with that. Imagine the paper and props headed my way once I take such a thing home.”

           Ferrando finally managed to raise herself to the sitting position. “You’ll be able to floss the whole planet.” Ferrando frowned. “So, you weren’t looking for me – you thought that this Escape Capsule was the ship you were looking for.”

           “Okay. So I followed your distress signal here, hoping to find something more than just a crispy dimepiece. Let’s get going. There’s more water on the Key West, and hopefully in a few days your health will be back – and your memory, Commander.”

           Within four hours, Ferrando would be on Roata 2.

* * *

TRUCOWL 5, 9,450 Light Years from Earth in the direction of the North America Nebula and Deneb

           Yukiko Kogure had convinced the Queen to meet with her privately during the day in a secret, non-disclosed location following her conversation with Fioha Secowm. The entire meeting tonight was one of formality and stagecraft, so as to present to her own subjects that this transit by the Trucowl Flagship would be the Queen’s idea, and not the idea of an alien to this planet pulling the puppet strings of an elder, more mature species. The facts were undeniable that Secowm had violated so many Precepts that in some form or fashion she would have to be dealt with severely, but the Queen was determined that even the punishment due Secowm would all be presented to the people as the theatre of stagecraft. In fact, despite the contents of the Precepts, Fioha Secowm had done a brave and heroic thing for her Queen and for her planet.

           But the Precepts were what they were, the Queen lamented as Yukiko Kogure walked from a beautiful night sky to the interior of the Castle’s Palace Court before the Throne of the sitting Queen of Trucowl 5. This was where Kogure had first met the Queen, and it would also likely be the location of her last meeting in person with the Queen of Trucowl 5.

           Unlike the first time, the Queen chose that her Court Observers and Palace Guards remain with her, as this presentation was more for them than for the audience of one human before her.

           The Queen’s visible mood, indicated by the hue change in the luminescence of her skin shifted from one of joy to one of sadness as the Queen realized that Yukiko Kogure had decided she would not be coming back following her first travel beyond the Space Elevator atop Trucowl 5 since her arrival here three Earth years ago. In a sense, this was goodbye to a respected, very old friend. They had both lost the childhood friends they would someday marry, about the same time but due to totally different circumstances. They had since developed a friendship and a mutual grieving society in ways that the Trucowl Queen certainly could not have entertained with one of her Trucowl Subjects. At least the Queen knew comfort in the fact that Kogure had actually met the King of Trucowl 5. Her only information about Yukiko’s husband was that while she was the First Officer of LIBERTY 72, her husband, in command of a doomed LIBERTY 74 moved an overloading ship into the heart of an Otawian Array, allowing for the survival and escape of LIBERTY 72. LIBERTY 74 was doomed anyway, and no escape plan for the crew would have brought them to safety, so Captain Akio Kogure made the best out of a terrible situation as his wife watched, helpless to do anything but provide weapons cover for LIBERTY 74 as it moved to its final destination. Trucowl 5 also had stories of such heroes but it had been a very, very long time since such a selfless sacrifice was done in the name of planet and justice. But, Akio Kogure had joked, he was doing it all for his wife, and if Earth and LIBERTY 72 could have been saved in the process, then it was all the better.

           “Yuki-chan, genki desu?”

           Kogure was always touched by the Queen’s private study of her childhood language. “Genki! How may I be of assistance, Your Majesty?”

           “You have served well as Earth's ambassador to my world for the last three television seasons, Yuki.” The Queen’s local concept of time was by observing the revolving stars around her planet beyond her own, but early Earth television shows which made many addicted Trucowls fluent in Earth languages and the characters had only recently, after meeting humans for the first time three years ago, discovered that the transmissions were dramas, not news summaries of people’s actual lives. Yet old habits were hard to break for the Queen of Trucowl 5. “Now, I am ending this assignment, and commissioning you for another. You shall be the duly appointed, commissioned, and fully empowered Trucowl Ambassador to Earth. It will be a temporary assignment, to serve at my pleasure and only for so long as it pleases you. As a primitive mammal, you shall bound by our Precepts only so far as how they will guide your gifted spirit towards decisions which keep the best interests of Trucowl 5 as your intentions.”

           “I've memorized almost all of the Precepts, Your Majesty. I can’t say I agree with all of them, but I shall consider the intent of their creation as I serve you.”

           “Our Precepts were never intended to guide other species – those such as yours with your eternal spirits and the endowment of certain inalienable rights that have secured the individual blessings of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. We don’t share your natural yearning for freedom and adventure. Our citizens would never have presumed to believe such rights were within their own reach by the design of things, as disruption to our society would quickly bring our civilization to disorder and ruin as we found out recently when one of our own so effectively launched a rebellion against us. But please recognize as you represent me that to Trucowls, the Precepts are a sacred honor that have given us our social order, peace, harmony, and longevity.”

           “Which Precepts do you feel will be most important to me as your Ambassador to Earth?”

           “All of them – or the need to ponder the individual weight of all of them is of great importance, as you prioritize the survival of Earth. You will no doubt break many, but please ensure they are the right ones, as I will be judged by your actions as my Ambassador to Earth.”

           Yukiko Kogure suddenly realized what the Queen was telling her from the Throne of the Monarchy of Trucowl 5 – she could be tossed from the Throne by Parliament and exterminated if Kogure would fail to serve Trucowl interest ahead of Earth’s as the Queen’s personal Ambassador to Earth. Yet, between the lines, the Queen was putting her own fate on the line in order to preserve Earth, as under the normal order of things Earth’s fate would be of no consequence to Trucowl 5. Kogure now knew that the Queen of Trucowl 5 would be held accountable by whatever action she would take as the Queen’s personal Ambassador to Earth.

           “What are my options?”

           “Be as true to all of your resources within you and around you,” said the Queen Trucowl 5. “You have met Admiral Alxaquiem, the widow of our late, great traitor – the female military officer who killed her own husband for the preservation of the Crown which is allowed under Precepts that normally would have spared him. She will command the Trucowl Flagship and be at your service. We have identified the key people who need to board the Trucowl Flagship Te-SAL-Dar-ADLAMUR, perhaps not the fastest or most powerful ship in our Fleet, but the only one with accommodations fitting for a Queen – or her Ambassador. Once above Earth you need to embark North American President Lisa Stewart, Victor Martin and Jonas Bu'Tan from Liberty Enterprises, and anyone else you or they feel is essential as their staff.”

           “What if they don’t want to go with us?” asked Kogure.

           “Then leave them no choice.”

           “I see,” said Kogure. “That may be harder than it sounds.”

           “The choice is clear. They can go with you to save Earth, or choose to stay and face immediate destruction.”

           “How could I really do that?”

           “I have already told you, use all of your resources within you – including what you call … the bluff. If they do not go, then the fate will be the same, as the Astenfaji will destroy them, as we discussed in private when the position was informally offered to you.” This got the Queen off the hook with the witnesses present in the Court for violating Precepts, as appointing an alien human to the Queen’s Court made Kogure an honorary Trucowl worthy of essential security information such as the background of the Astenfaji and Isvarala. 

           “Once we board the humans above Earth, then what?”

           “Then, I want you to travel to find LIBERTY 72, which is returning from a mission to the Galactic Core, and is probably less than a thousand of your light years from reaching home after a long and difficult journey. Their last known stop was in the Gamsosa Star System which has a location that will be available to you on the Flagship. Track a line between there and Earth, and go out in reverse until you find them.”

           “I am already aware of its location,” Kogure admitted as she had been in contact with Secowm. “Yes, Your Majesty, I agree on your assessment on where they should be by now. Once we rendezvous with LIBERTY 72, then what?”

           “And then, I want you to accomplish the impossible …”

* * *

Roata 2, at 540 Light Years from Earth in the direction of the Galactic Core

           Carlos Martinez knew that after several days of arranging his survival for taking the investment money with no Rechi in return, he would again headed for the Suaner Star System, using the money entrusted to him to buy Rechi for the fuel to get the Key West back into that system, hopefully on a one-way trip. He would rather face his angry investors rather than the woman now at the front door of his establishment. But he knew if anyone could get his guest back to health in days and not weeks, it would be Mother Becky Davis.

           “Child, what on mothership Earth have you gotten yourself into this time?”

           “Mother Becky, why do you always come here like some bama deuce wanting to trip on me like that? Why can’t you just be happy with crabbing my jacked-up kitchen for your orphans and downtrodden?”

           “Because I care about you,” said Davis as the morning sunlight through an open window-shade illuminated an unconscious woman sleeping comfortably on the padded seat of one of the long booths in his establishment. “Your new wiz, or your new snowbunny?” asked Davis as he went to her side. “She actually looks like the first girl you’ve ever had in here with any class.”

           “No, you stupid cherryhead – she’s just a squirrel - completely out of her mind.”

           “She should fit in just fine here then, you foolish wanksta. Only I know the trouble you’re in. And that’s not even in the afterlife. You’d best lay low – maybe stay out of this dive for a while.”

           “I won’t be here for long, Mother Becky. I went to Suaner 4 for a trap deal gone south but I found her on Suaner 2, so I jetted her here so those doctors you know can take a look at her.”

           “Has she been unconscious all this time?”

           “No, but she’s really sick. So I gave her some sizzurp to help her to relax. Put her right out.”

           “Yes, she’s so dehydrated you probably bent her into a coma,” said Davis as she closed a shade at the window so that the rays of the morning sun would stay off Ferrando’s already parched skin. “I’ll get a doctor over here. This will cost you, and this will be a first.”

           “A first? What are you talking about, Mother Becky?”

           “Normally I only have to send doctors over here after your girls get burned when you flip them like pancakes.”

           “My customers do that, Mother Becky. Not me. I simply run a legitimate, legal business establishment here. I am not responsible for what my customers do in my establishment. And my girls are independent contractors. What they do is their business.”

           “With a cut to you, or you couldn't pay bills for the doctors after bad things happen to your girls. Right?”

           “I value my independent contractors. It’s not like I can replace them every time one starts spitting seeds or gets dripping burned.”

           “Okay, dear child of God, I’ll send someone down. I’m going to be late for Mass – I have to go.”

           “No one goes to your Masses. What’s the rush?”

           “God does – and I can’t be late for God. You stop worrying about getting dripped in chips. Worry a little more about staying alive long enough for your soul to find God, okay? Because word on the street is if you don’t perform for them with their investment someone is likely to air out this place.”

           “I have a plan, Mother Becky.”

           “Oh yeah? God has a plan for you too, and if you ask me, your plan doesn’t sound so hot.”

           “You don’t even know what my plan is!”

           “Trust me, I don’t want to know. Now you get your soul back in good graces with God. That’s more important than anything else. Do you hear me, dear child?”

           “Yes Ma’am. I hear you. But even God understands that I have to do what I have to do to survive the next week. I’ll turn back to God after that.”

           “Cha cha cha cha cha,” mumbled Davis in frustration. “Oh, what is God ever going to do with you? I really have to bounce. Peace.”

           “Peace.” Davis returned to send medical attention to Ferrando as Martinez prepared the transport Key West to return to the Suaner Star System.

* * *

Albategnius Spaceport, Earth’s Moon

           Despite its overwhelming military capability to go wherever the Trucowls wanted to take their flagship, it was out of a diplomatic interest that Admiral Alxaquiem yielded to the patently humorous demands that the Trucowl flagship land however it wished at Albategnius Spaceport and come no closer to Earth under threat of attack and destruction. So the Trucowl Flagship had parked south of Albategnius Mountain, the sole major natural feature within the flat floor of the crater, and impressive as Albategnius Mountain was with its 4,000 foot elevation, the Trucowl Flagship was much, much larger – so large in fact that with only a low-powered set of binoculars it could be seen from Earth.

           Albategnius itself, as a crater was 3 whole degrees in diameter, or about 65 miles with the flat plains at the bottom almost as wide. Above the plains on all sides were tall rims, some parts extending up to three miles off the crater floor. The East-West runway south of the Spaceport Domes built above the northern sub-crater and north of Albategnius Mountain had landed many a ship and supply transports from Earth, and it was strung along the two widest points from East to West. The use of fuel arriving to and departing the Moon was rare, and negligible when necessary. There were ramps extending far past the top of the crater for miles on both sides, gently allowing for craft to softly glide onto the ramps as they were pulled in by the Moon’s gravity, slowly and gently moving to the flat runway on the crater’s plains. Vehicles launched back to Earth in a similar way to the east attached to catapults which accelerated them up the ramp and into a once-around ascending orbit that would leave them on a course for Earth. No matter what the moon phase was, this would never change as Albategnius was always just south of the Moon’s center, always pointing Albategnius to Earth. This Spaceport was also capable of launching to Daedelus Spaceport on the back side of the Moon, to Ganymede, Charon Station, and other places, but in those cases fuel would be required once in orbit.

           Jonas Bu’Tan, Victor Martin and his wife, the Commanding Officer of the malfunctioned-plagued training ship LIBERTY 77 arrived on her ship. Debbie Hernandez-Martin had become the leader of the one ship built with a flawed Cyclocentric Anante Reducer Processor which meant that the ship could function within the Solar System without problems, but it would never attain Superoptic Speeds. Suffering a severe budget crisis, Jonas Bu’Tan quickly decided to make this a tourist passenger ship and for new crews a training vessel, but it would be cost prohibitive to repair and launch beyond the solar system. It was barely paying for itself as a passenger vehicle, even though the demand was high. Because it called Encinitas home, the taxes were even higher. This ship had accomplished absolutely nothing beyond Charon Station, on a moon near the planet Pluto, so it was usually advertised as ‘the sister ship to LIBERTY 72.’

           Lisa Stewart, the President of North America arrived on the Blended Wing Body (BWB) Design that was the official State Craft for the leader of the not-so-free world. Its designation even in earlier incarnations was Wind Force One. As in earlier days she was accompanied by a staff of dozens.

           Within a few hours of introductory discussions with Yukiko Kogure in one of several huge inhabited hemispheres of Albategnius Spaceport, older yet similar to the domed city over New Atlantis, a city on Mars, the President of North America finally decided to entertain the idea that she would actually go into space beyond Earth’s moon.

           “How have things been for you on Trucowl 5 during the last three years – really?”

           “Thanks for asking, Vic,” she replied. “I've been okay. It’s great to see you and Deb again.”

           “Are you ready to come home yet?” asked Martin’s wife.

           “Almost, Deb. I miss Akio more than you can know. It’s really great to see you again. So far as coming home, it all depends on how this mission goes.”

           “What is this mission,” asked Lisa Stewart, “that you had to threaten a Trucowl attack on Earth unless I came with you?”

           “You’re putting words in my mouth, Madame President,” said Kogure. “But Earth is indeed in peril, and I desperately need you to stop that from happening.”

           “Specify,” demanded Stewart.

           “Only from aboard the Trucowl Flagship. We’re already running late.”

           “When will we return?” Stewart asked.

           “That doesn’t matter,” said Kogure. “All that matters now is that there is going to be an Earth to which we can return.”

           “How is Trucowl 5 involved in all of this?” asked Victor Martin.

           “The truth is, all of my earlier reports to you about the state of Trucowl 5 were heavily censored. That I do know. I don’t know what you missed. Since the death of the King of Trucowl 5, the planet's true political power has been in the Parliament. The Queen isn't a weak female Trucowl, but she is simply outnumbered. Please come – we must reconvene to the Trucowl Flagship.”

           So leaving Wind Force One, much of President Stewart’s staff, and LIBERTY 77 behind, they were soon on the Trucowl Flagship.

* * *

Trucowl Flagship Te-SAL-Dar-ADLAMUR underway from Earth's Solar System towards Roata 2

           “President Stewart,” said Kogure once comfortable quarters were arranged for the humans in a segregated suburb of the huge Trucowl flagship and they had met again in space, “we don’t have much time. The way Trucowls arrange spaceflight between stars, it will seem like only minutes when we arrive at our destination. It's just the Trucowl way of handling the passage of time at Superoptic Speeds - unlike humans, Trucowls do not believe that half the fun of being there is getting there. I speak to you as the personally appointed Ambassador of the Queen of Trucowl 5. You must withdrawal your forces from Tau Sag. That North American Military Space Force Base must clear out of the way and allow the Astenfaji to pass.”

           “And who are the Astenfaji?” asked Lisa Stewart.

           “They are a group of aliens who are headed for a star cluster from the stars of Earth’s constellation Sagittarius. They are destroying every planet in reach of their passage, because they do not want another species behind them, the Isvarala, to have a planet useful in ways of comfortable surroundings or material resources. They have probably already destroyed Suaner 4, they will probably miss Nunki Resort and Phi Sag because it is off their beaten path, but they won’t miss Roata 2 or Tau Sag on their way to their next target – Earth.” The room - or more specifically, the meeting chamber became completely quiet. “And once they indiscriminately destroy Earth – just to make sure the Isvarela won’t find any use in it, they’ll keep going to Earth’s back side, towards their ultimate destination, NGC-2168 in the Gemini Constellation and away from the Galactic Core.”

           “Yukiko,” asked Victor Martin, “who exactly are these beings … the Astenfaji and the Isvarala?”

           “They are not your concern, Admiral Martin. No disrespect, sir, but I am no longer your First Officer. I am the Ambassador to you from the Queen of Trucowl 5.”

           “Excuse me, Yuki-san,” said Martin, with an understood tone of sarcasm in choosing the –san prefix instead of the more familiar –chan prefix, “but if they’re headed in to destroy Earth, that makes the Astenfaji every bit my concern.”

           “Admiral,” said Kogure, “at this point it would be useless for me to destroy the effectiveness of my warning of the credible threat from the Astenfaji by telling you incredible tales of these two species. All I can say for now is that one of them – the Isvarala are so advanced that it is believed by many that they have evolved into non-corporeal life forms. The Astenfaji, are an aquatic species that can survive for short periods out of water, but which prefer to live in oceans. They lived for several centuries in the Mediterranean, and apparently were responsible for transferring to Earth humans the rapid development of Linear-B language and the technological advances of the Mycenaean civilization which made the Minoan civilization obsolete and irrelevant. But just as the Astenfaji left Earth, Knossus and other nearby civilizations fell into ruin and destruction, perhaps because the Astenfaji left in a destructive way. And then, the Astenfaji went to the Pleiades and upon leaving there several hundred years ago left no planet unturned.”

           “So they were responsible for the devastation in the Mediterranean and in the Pleiades.”

           “Yes, Victor,” replied Kogure. “And as I said, this is the credible part of the story. They are headed for all the places I named, and not a single civilization will be left standing – unless we can succeed in our mission to convince the Astenfaji to go by another route.”

           “And you don’t think Tau Sag can handle them?”

           “No, President Stewart, I guarantee the total destruction of Tau Sag and Earth if you do not immediately evacuate Tau Sag.”

           “You’ve been away too long,” said Stewart. “You must not be aware of the advanced technologies we’ve fielded since your trip to Trucowl 5 aboard LIBERTY 72 back in ’68. But since my first election in ’64, I’ve learned a lot from the catastrophic attack on Earth in ’66. Since you left in ’68, because of my leadership, Earth has made an astounding recovery.” Kogure sneered, noting that such a narcissistic leader – and an overconfident one to the point of world peril had not spoken like this since early in the 21^st Century. “Once it was clear to me,” Stewart continued, “that an irresponsible private corporation – namely Liberty Enterprises – took it upon itself to go on a dangerous and unauthorized mission, I made it a point to put our government into space in a way that would have military superiority over competitors – real or imagined – from Earth or elsewhere.”

           “I know very well the capabilities of the Wind Force Squadrons at Tau Sag,” said Kogure, attempting to be as respectful as possible to a disastrous North American leader who would love nothing more than to stay past 2672 if election law would permit. Kogure did not rule out the idea that if anyone would issue an Executive Order ruling that the three-term limit was overturned as illegitimate, it would be her. But, despite the power she had accumulated, age and fatigue had overcome her at an even faster rate. If there was one thing that could be believed about Lisa Stewart it was that she was ready to leave office, just hopeful of surviving this last term, even if privately she would be reluctant to give up such powers that had become so pleasurable to her. “Madame President, I must reveal to you, although I do so reluctantly in that in doing so I place the life of the Queen of Trucowl 5 in great peril for violating Precepts that there has been an ancient, standing alliance between the Astenfaji and Trucowls. If you attack the Astenfaji at Tau Sag, it will be considered an attack by Earth on Trucowl 5, and if even if the Astenfaji are defeated at Tau Sag, the Trucowls will turn Earth into another Otaw 4.”

           Stewart was visibly shaken by the threat. “You are a rude host,” she told Kogure, “inviting me aboard a Trucowl Flagship to tell me that your client, the Trucowls, will destroy Earth. You’re bluffing. You can’t do it. You won’t do it.”

           “I assure you, Madame President, the Trucowls not only can and will do it, they must do it, in order to honor Precepts.”

           “Nice try, Yuki-chan,” said Debbie Hernandez-Martin, “but we both know that the Trucowls don’t and won’t form alliances.”

           “That is true of the modern era, Deb,” said Kogure, “but they do honor alliances in place from before the  elevation by the Rhophapiny Dynasty – the current succession of power which is older than writing on Earth. There are actually very few of these alliances in place, and I don’t have a clue with which ancient civilizations most of these alliances are placed, only to know that the vast majority are long gone by now. But what I can tell you is that the Astenfaji, even if defeated at Tau Sag, will be avenged by the Trucowls, and before the cock crows, I will have denied I know Earth. Before the cock crows twice, the spinning tiny pebble among the vastness of the much larger galaxy will be nothing but a rolling, expanding cloud of expanding particles, just as Otaw 4 once was.”

           “Admiral Martin,” asked Stewart, “I will not let Ambassador Kogure waste our time with idle threats. Can you do something to convince your former First Officer to turn around and take us back to Earth?”

           “On the contrary,” said Martin, “I have known Yukiko Kogure long enough to know that she is incapable of bluffing, or idle threats. I remember Otaw 4’s destruction well. Otaw 4 was a lifeless planetary body, about 5,000 miles in diameter, which housed the rebellion’s military might including the Otawian Arrays that destroyed so many of our ships, and attacked Earth back in ’66. Otawian Arrays, formed from millions of capsules connected together like ancient train cars and operating as a single unit were strung like a spider web over Otaw 4. It was the most powerful military force I had seen, before or since. Yet with a single transparent cylinder launched from Trucowl 5, a spinning ball of something between matter and energy no more than 500 feet long and 12 or so feet thick, Trucowl 5 was able to strike Otaw 4 and cause all atomic cohesion to disappear. The science is far beyond our understanding, but within days Otaw 4 was nothing but a huge interplanetary dust cloud. I took LIBERTY 72 out of orbit of Otaw 3, relocating to Otaw 2 until the dust expansion stabilized. Even to this day, one can not see the stars in the Otawian system without peering through an opaque ball of dust. In time, the stellar wind and gravity will clear out the system, but the point is if Ambassador Kogure says Trucowl 5 will turn Earth into such a dust cloud, you had better believe she means she can do it and will. I can woefully admit that of all of the people I have ever met, including even my wife – and I love you dearly, Deb … there is no one in the Universe whose word is as reliably golden as that of Yukiko Kogure. If I were you, I would evacuate Tau Sag. President Stewart, you swore to protect and defend North America. Do so by making that evacuation from Tau Sag a reality. You can not win this war, for even if you win, you still lose – everything.”

           “Don’t preach to me about moral principles, Admiral Martin,” said Stewart. “Just because I put my hand on a bible and said this or that doesn’t mean anything but that I am following tradition. It’s not really legally binding.”

           “Perhaps not,” said Victor Martin, “but Trucowls exist for principle. If they say they will decimate Earth as casually and easily as they destroyed Otaw 4, they mean it, and they’ll do it for the principle of their Precepts.”

           “Would they destroy the culture they value so much?”

           “Oh, humanity will survive – in the form of LIBERTY 72, and only for as long as Fioha Secowm is aboard that ship. Trucowls have a rule against destroying one of their own.”

           Finally, Jonas Bu’Tan spoke. “So LIBERTY 72 is not destroyed after all?”

           “President Bu’Tan,” said Kogure, “by Trucowl technologies I have been in contact with Fioha Secowm. The ship is badly damaged and will need repairs when it returns to Earth – if there is an Earth for the ship to visit by the time it gets back you’re your Solar System. Their DC Comms antenna was sheared off when they ditched their fuel rig in an emergency. There are nine crew dead – I don’t have names yet, and they have been making good progress in making their way back out to the spiral arms of this galaxy. I am told that they should arrive at Roata 2 only a few hours after we arrive there, and that is where we are headed now.” Smiles came to the faces of Bu’Tan, Victor Martin, and Martin’s wife. And within seconds, a smile finally came to Yukiko Kogure’s face as well.

* * *

LIBERTY 95, near  Suaner 3, at 625 Light Years from Earth in the direction of the Galactic Core

           This was the happiest day in the life of Carlos Martinez. The Mission Control Center appeared unusable, but in a section near the center of the ship was an Auxiliary Mission Control Center which duplicated all of the functions of the damaged nerve and control center for the fabulous, but badly damaged ship. It was not only responding well to all of his commands, but it was proving a wealth of information about the inner workings of Liberty Enterprises that in and of itself would sell for a high price to Dan Brenner of Sunshine Mining back on Earth. All of the scientific discoveries, star maps, planetary data, and other key findings by Liberty Enterprises were also here. He had found his private hidden treasure no longer hidden from Sunshine Mining, and his potential rewards were now far in excess of even his ambitious dreams. By remote control, he ordered the docked ship Key West to disconnect and accelerate towards Suaner 3’s lifeless, airless surface. He had transferred everything he had needed to this ship. The TAF Weapons, EFFB’s and three of four Linear Spike Engine Pods were in excellent shape, and the TRS Engines and Push Stick required for interstellar transit were in excellent shape as well. This Block III ship had a capability lacking in earlier designs, and that was in the computer-controlled activation of Worker Drones – robotic slaves normally only employed to clean the inside and outside of the ship, who had been dispatched by the main computer to repair the ship as well. By the time LIBERTY 95 would reach Roata 2, even the Mission Control Center should have been repaired. As the paranoid person that Martinez was – and so far this trait had served him well, he knew that he had to find a secondary place to put this ship in the event he would run into trouble with authorities from Earth’s governments who were always conducting interdiction and patrol operations near Roata 2. And now, his computers were warning him, a Block II ship was screaming towards this planet at high Superoptic speeds, due here within minutes. He wanted to find a place that could be used as a safe shelter for LIBERTY 95 where he could hide the ship until he could get back to it. He scanned the region’s stars, one by one, until he found the perfect place to hide LIBERTY 95 – if need be. It was a lifeless star system with a main star and a cold dwarf as the binary only four light minutes from the primary. There were no planets, but for the badly malformed dwarf star that was far more like the planet Jupiter than any star. He plugged in the name “Phi Sag 1” into the navigational script under the column marked “B-I-N-G-O.” If need be, he could now leave the ship at Roata 2 and know with comfort that whenever he could get to Phi Sag 1, LIBERTY 95 would be piloted there by computer command alone, and be waiting for him.

* * *

LIBERTY 72, at Suaner 4, 625 Light Years from Earth in the direction of the Galactic Core

           Antonio DiNyro turned to Captain Joseph Carr. “Well within the Suaner system, we can drop Suboptic any time you’d like.”

           “Julie, get us on a heading for Suaner 4 – close if you don’t mind, and then disengage TRS Engines.”

           “Three,” said Perkins, “two, one … Suboptic. Now coasting at 0.25c approaching the horizon of Suaner 4. Shall I script an orbital approach?”

           “No,” said Carr, “let’s coast over it for now – because I have a sneaky suspicion that by now there won’t be anything left of Suaner 4 to save, if Fioha is right.”

           “Sadly, I will be,” the Trucowl admitted.

           “Sadly,” said Antonio DiNyro, “she is right. It looks like within the last ten days or so – Earth days that is - entire planet was decimated - the oceans turned into radioactive soup, and the atmosphere turned into a poisonous dust cloud. It looks very much like Gamsosa 3, but only worse. It’s much worse – if only because this just happened.”

            Carr was angered and pounded his hand on the side of his console’s armrest. “Fioha, I wish you weren’t so right. What about the station that’s supposed to be in geosynchronous orbit?”

            “Scanning,” said DiNyro. “I don’t see anything in the Suboptic sensors. But Superoptic sensors connected to the Push Stick and DC Comms computers are picking up energy ghosts in cosmic radiation which when combined to the free atoms scattered about on the other side of the planet would equate to the approximate weight of such a station. It looks like it’s gone, too. If you want to circle back around Superoptic maybe we can piece together transmissions from the Intelascan.”

            “No,” said Carr, “that won’t be necessary. History of the living is what interests me now. I suppose I can tell the crew this now. The Queen of Trucowl 5 has dispatched her Ambassador aboard a Trucowl Flagship, and we are to meet this Ambassador at Roata 2, which is not very far away from here.”

            “Excellent,” said Antonio DiNyro. “Captain … I’m picking up an object in motion on the space displacement sensors, coming over the horizon of the next planet over which is actually on the back side of the star right now. As you know, stars are our blind spot with those sensors. So what I now comes without a lot of clarity. It’s a ship, in a spiraling roll, with Suboptic engines on full throttle. It’s a suicide mission – they’re already committed to the gravity well.”

            “Scan for life signs.”

            “I can’t – not from this far. But it’s about to hit the surface of Suaner 3 – in 3 … 2 … 1 … impact. If you want to stay around, we should be able to see the light with our own eyes in about half an hour.”

           “No,”  said Carr. “That would be pointless.” He thoughtfully paused. “This is just too weird.”

           “Maybe it was someone despondent over what happened to Suaner 4.”

           “No,” said Carr, “I sense something else is going on. Antonio, throw your Space Displacement Sensors to wideband and long range. Look for activity on the Superoptic front that we can’t see here with our normal sensors.”

           “Ah ha!” said DiNyro, who after so many good suggestions from the Captain of late was finally starting to genuinely respect Joseph Carr, “Yes! The contact is about a minute or so out of this star system, headed towards Earth at a high Indicated Speed Matrix - somewhere around ISM Eight. Other stars directly in this line of travel? It looks like only one – the Roata Star System-which at ISM Eight can be reached by that ship in less than eleven minutes from here.”

           “Antonia,” said Carr, “check that signature on your twin brother’s display. Tell me who makes an engine like that.”

           Within a second Antonia DiNyro had the answer. “That’s an easy one. It’s a Liberty Enterprises Block III design – the kind they were talking about making above Mirsola 1 – or Spaceport 2 when we left Earth. The only one that might have launched by now would have to be LIBERTY 95.”

           “Fioha,” said Carr, “please tell me that LIBERTY 95 didn’t have anything to do with what happened to this star system.”

           “I can categorically deny I know anything at all about this other than to confirm that LIBERTY 95 is the only Block III ship that has launched.”

           “Julie,” said Carr, “turn the TRS Engines back on. Once Superoptic, take us to ISM One, and let’s just hope that the Trucowl ship Fioha says we’re going to meet above Roata 2 will figure out what LIBERTY 95 is up to in this system.”

           “Why so slow, Captain?” asked First Officer Monique Rivers.

           “Because, whoever did this to Suaner 4 is now on their way to Roata 2. Antonio, I want you to light up every sensor band you have, and find ways to invent new ways of creating recordings in bands you don’t even know about yet. I want you to go active with everything you have – even if it means people with flashlights out windows. We don’t want to miss a thing.”

           “Now back to ISM One,” said Perkins as the sky shifted and slowly but surely the Suaner Star Sytem dropped from behind the ship.

           “Let’s just hope the locals don’t swindle the Trucowl Flagship from them above Roata 2,” said Antonio DiNyro.

           “Well, Antonio,” asked Rivers, “weren’t you complaining just days ago that you wanted to see a change of pace?”

           “Roata 2 is the last rest stop before hell,” he replied, “run by gamblers and refugee gangsters. Murder, assassination, espionage, sabotage, prostitution, drug running, contraband wholesale... it's truly the land of the free criminal, and the home of the very brave visitor. I’ll bet even angels would fear to tread in that hellhole.”

            “Captain!” Monique Rivers had rarely been so excited that she could not contain herself. She took a few seconds to study her panel, before turning to Carr. “This is impossible, but on my console over the DC Comms bands, I’m getting a message.”

            “It has to be some sort of a prank or computer hack,” said Carr. “Without a DC Comms Antenna, there can be no message.”

            “Oh, it gets even weirder. It asks you to evacuate the LLS Bay and to have you and Fioha Secowm meet a visitor who will briefly be aboard for a meeting with you. The communiqué says you must be alone.”

            “Put cameras on us,” said Carr. “Evacuate everyone from the LLS Bay and keep it off-limits.”

            “Captain, said Secowm, “you can’t be serious.”

            “I have to be,” said Carr. “Anybody who has the capability to hack into our DC Comms at a time like this is someone worth meeting.”

            * * *

            In the Large Landing Shuttle Bay, the visitors were only discernable by shimmering changes to the background, and by periodic reflections of light in the room. There were two of them. Sadly, Carr immediately recognized, the security cameras would record nothing for the record. Their voices only appeared as soft whispers barely audible to Carr and Secowm.  The voices would not be detected, either. All that would be seen by the rest of the crew would be a human and a Trucowl talking to an empty room.

            “Fioha, you look well.”

            “I recognize your voice,” she said, clearly frightened and troubled by the new hue of her skin.

            “Do you recognize mine as well, beloved Fioha?” asked the other voice, a more masculine one.

            “Yes. How can this be?”

            “So are you the Archangel Gabriel, or just Lucifer?” asked Carr.

            “None of those eternal beings, Captain Joe,” revealed the more feminine voice. “Like your eternal soul, both of those the beings you mention have been around since the dawn of time, and will be in existence long after time and existence has expired in this Universe. We, on the other hand, will finally die out in Stage Four existence to disappear into nothingness for all time, to go to no place. This may seem like forever to you in your mortal form, but we will pass even before the end of time.”

            “How?” asked Secowm. “Why?”

            “As I knew would happen,” said the more feminine voice, “I was tossed off the Throne of Trucowl 5 and exterminated not long after you left. Now look around you.” In every corner of the room, all the way from the floor to the ceiling, and even atop some of the Large Landing Shuttles were new shimmering figures that were only visible by movement displacing the light in the background. “These, Fioha are your beloved children. They have passed to Stage Four and will live for countless eons to come in happy, indestructible bodies.”

            “These are Trucowls who have passed from Stage Three – which you’re now in – or earlier stages … to Stage Four?” asked Carr. “What does that mean?”

            Secowm was trembling. “You did this all for me,” said Secowm. “What kind of Queen would lay down her life for a mere Commoner?”

            “The kind of royalty Father Paul Alders is always talking about,” suggested Carr.

            “Oh, I’m not that good. It was simply necessary,” said the deceased Queen of Trucowl 5. “You, Fioha, are only being shown any of this for one reason and one reason alone. You are the new Queen of Trucowl 5. There are traditions which you must fulfill – to have answers to questions that can not be otherwise solved but by what appears on Trucowl 5 to be supernatural means. Your status as Commoner will be no barrier. As I will prepare you to answer the demanding questions, you will have the knowledge to pass all of the tests and assume your rightful place on the Throne.”

            “Why me?”

            “Because it is the right of outgoing Royalty to choose their successors. This was a joint decision, between my husband and me. Please do not insult us by questioning our choice. You are much better prepared than we were.”

            “And beyond Royalty and the heir apparent,” said Secowm, “no one knows the truth about the Isvarala – that you are actually Trucowls who have passed into Stage Four?”

            “Exactly,” said the King of Trucowl 5. “Anyone who tells another Trucowl will be immediately exterminated by the Isvarala. It is the only time we force our will upon the fate of Trucowls. It’s not like we’re really exterminating them – we’re just hastening their arrival to the other side of Trucowl existence so they can do no harm to themselves or others. Thus you shall continue the necessary charade – to present the Isvarala as mortal eternal enemies to the Trucowls, so that your lives go on without interference as they must.”

            “What happens if I die before I can take my place on the Throne?” asked Secowm.

            “Then you will become an Isvarala,” said the Queen of Trucowl 5, “and it will be your task to find someone else, as this will be your duty as the Queen of Trucowl 5.”

            “I’m not in a hurry,” said Secowm, “but I am gratified to know that my children all have a future beyond their premature death. Hello to all of you!” The joyous response from all of her lost children brought her great joy as she shivered in Trucowl laughter. “And I’m grateful to know I have a future too. A future made so much better because I am no longer so sad about my beloved hatchings.”

            “The real future is within the human eternal soul,” the Queen of Trucowl 5 reminded Secowm. “For that, we are truly jealous of the otherwise pathetically mortal species of Earth. Eternal really is forever. Our long lives as Isvarala are not. Yes, we live virtually forever in all of the dimensions of created known to you, and many more not known to you, but creation is our limit. The angels, Mary Mother of God, and so many more can traverse all of these within creation, and so much more into infinity beyond. As can you all, which is why we envy you so much for reasons you can not fully appreciate or even believe in most cases.”

            “Yes, the finite human mind often is the stumbling block to the infinite human soul – I admit. So, why are you showing me all of this?” asked Carr.

            “Because,” said the Queen of Trucowl 5, “dear Captain Joe, our Trucowl Flagship the Te-SAL-Dar-ADLAMUR, under command of Admiral Alxaquiem must be sacrificed in order for us to move the Astenfaji over Earth. I want you to know with confidence that no harm will truly come to your Trucowl friends when that does happen.”

            “I understand,” said Carr.

            “I am happy,” said the King of Trucowl 5. “Fioha has related to us several times your willingness to risk your own ship and crew to save others. You must make an exception in the case of the Trucowl Flagship, for its destruction means the salvation of Earth. To save it would be foolish, resulting in the destruction of your own ship and Earth.”

            “I also want to make sure you know full well it is vital you get all of the humans off that ship – including Yukiko Kogure, my Ambassador to the Te-SAL-Dar-ADLAMUR, who will be reluctant to leave out of her strong personal devotion to duty.”

            “I’ll get her off the Flagship, Your Majesty.”

            “Captain Joe, I am putting a special formula into a computer in your Apartment which you need to memorize. It will be needed later to save your ship. It can only be used once. And please do not call me endearing terms of royalty. I am just a beginner in Isvarala society,” said the Queen of Trucowl 5. “Former titles mean nothing where I am now. The new Queen of Trucowl 5 worthy of your praise in respect is the Trucowl standing next to you. We must leave now, and navigate back to normal space and time where we left the other Isvarala.”

            “Do you travel in space-ships?” asked Carr.

            “Not normally,” said the King of Trucowl 5, “but today, we’ve made an exception.”

           “Obviously,” said Carr. “Goodbye.”

            With that, the shimmering aliens all disappeared, and Carr and Secowm made their way back to the Mission Control Center. As predicted, no one there had seen anything but a human and a Trucowl talking to an empty LLS Bay.

* * *