Ashlyn Chronicles 1: 2287 A.D. (2 page)

***

Twenty-five minutes later, Erich and his team reached Outpost 119 to find it destroyed. Bringing the skimmer to a stop, they stared in shock at how little was left. Their living habitat was gone, its communication relays destroyed. Most of it was nothing more than a twisted pile of unrecognizable debris. Even their Dolphin Transport, Noory, was but a massive field of strewn wreckage.

“Does this mean that…” Kathryn’s quavering words trailed off.

“One step at a time. It’s too early to ask those questions. Until we know more, you two lovebirds try to find some oxygen cylinders. We’re going to need them,” said Erich, putting on a front of optimism for the newly married couple. He also knew that Kathryn was right. Based on the approach vector, the UN Headquarters would be next.

“I’m going to see if I can scrounge up some parts from the relay’s debris to boost the strength of the skimmer’s transmitter. With a little luck, maybe I can strengthen the signal enough to reach Hoagland Cen-Comm—get them to send a transport to pick us up.”

It wasn’t long before Erich found what he needed. Having jury-rigged a booster for the skimmer’s transmitter, he sent a distress call. Over the next hour as he tried to make contact, he occasionally caught sight of James and Kathryn moving through the chunks of debris and rubble, searching for tanks of oxygen. From what he heard over the comm, they were having no more success than he was.

Two hours passed before James and Kathryn felt compelled to give up in their search. They returned to Erich at the skimmer. “Nothing from Cen-Comm?”

“Not yet. You? Any luck?”

“Nothing. We didn’t find a single tank. Everything is in a million pieces,” said James.

“Sir, we need to talk.” Kathryn took a glance over at James for affirmation before she continued to speak. “I ran the numbers. If we stay here, we have about fifteen hours of air. But…”

“Don’t even say it,” said Erich. “They’ll come for us.”

“It’s been more than two hours since you contacted them from the Looking Glass dig site. They could have had a transport here in ten minutes,” added James, supporting his wife.

“There could be lots of reasons why they haven’t come yet,” said Erich.

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t explain why they haven’t responded to your distress call. Look around at what the ships did here. If they did that to the UN, then you know as well as I do—they aren’t coming,” said James.

Kathryn chimed in, her words soft and comforting, “What he’s trying to say is—while there may not be anything left to return to—James and I at least have each other. We want you to try to get back to your family. The three of us can’t make it, but one person can.”

“We want you to take our tanks,” James said. “It’ll give you forty-five to forty-eight hours of air. Just enough time for the skimmer to make it back. Barely, but you’ll make it.”

“Please.” Kathryn moved closer to James and took his arm. “It’s what we want.”

“I—”

“Please,” she repeated. “Do it for us. Do it for your family. Maybe you’ll get to see them.”

Erich dipped his head, agreeing with a sorrowful smile. In his heart he knew that Cen-Comm wasn’t going to call. Yet, with each passing second, his mind anxiously hoped to hear the
crackle
of the transmitter.

His movements slowed, buying time as he secured the water canisters and food rations aboard the skimmer. Unable to stall any longer, with great reluctance, he tearfully hugged Kathryn and James goodbye. Removing the oxygen bottles from their PLSS (primary life support system); he left them with only the air remaining in their suits.

Aboard the skimmer, he clipped the buckle of his harness and watched the two of them walk off. They took a seat on the ground, leaning against a chunk of the Noory’s hull. They sat as one—shoulder-to-shoulder, arm in arm.

Over the open comm he heard James ask Kathryn. “Do you remember the day when we first met, zip-lining in Oahu? I never told you, but what that harness was doing to your breasts, wow! Not to mention what it did to your thong bikini bottoms. I nearly swallowed my own tongue.”

“You thought that was accidental?” asked Kat.

“It wasn’t?” said James, surprised.

“Displaying the goods tends to increase sales. When will men ever learn that they are the buyer, not the seller?” Kathryn shot back.

Perhaps they’re the lucky ones,
thought Erich. He then set the skimmer’s navigation controls to: Hoagland Central Communications, Autopilot, Maximum Speed.

With little to do, the skimmer jostling along, the barren landscape became a cold and lonely reminder of the friends he had left behind. He thought back to earlier that morning. He had risen to an incoming call from his wife. She had been anxious to show him a crayon drawing that his daughter had done for him in school. It was a picture of him in his astronaut suit, standing atop a very tiny moon.

They talked about how in two weeks he’d be returning home. His wife had flashed him, flirtingly talking about how she was going to ravage him while wearing his favorite negligee. They had said their goodbyes that morning, never suspecting it might be their last.

After breakfast, the team headed out to the Looking Glass archaeological site in the Bay of Rainbows. Their assignment was to recover artifacts from a recently discovered chamber inside Tunnel 34—one of the Moon’s spokes of interconnecting tunnels.

However, though it had been less than five hours since he had spoken to his wife, it now felt like a lifetime ago.

He was now alone, and the worst part was the silence.

***

“Sir, we located President Tomlinson’s wife. I just finished speaking with her,” said Brooks as Steven entered the Command Center. “She and her son will be boarding a transport in a few minutes. ETA to Sea Base—a little over three hours. Stealth protocols initiated.”

“Very good. Does Mrs. Tomlinson know about her husband?”

“She does, sir. She was reluctant to leave without an explanation, so I played a portion of the holo-recording for her,” said Brooks.

“All right. Keep monitoring for transmissions from Hoagland Cen-Comm, in case they reconnect,” said Steven. “Did we get the two files?”

“Two? No, sir. We only received one, regarding Project Terminus.”

“You sure? Nothing else? No separate briefing file?”

Brooks shook his head. “Sorry, sir. You also need to know that the United Nations sounded the Planetary Defense System before they went offline. The world knows that something is happening.”

“Seal the base. Full lock-down. Shut down all noncritical power sources. We’re going dark until further notice.”

***

Erich brought the skimmer to a halt at the edge of the crater that led down to Hoagland Central Communications and the United Nations Headquarters. His heart sank. Unbuckling his harness, he stepped onto the lunar surface. The scene of devastation was complete. Weakened by despair, he dropped to his knees.

Forty-two domes, twenty-seven of which were Sovereign Territories, home and workplace to nearly eight-thousand people, lay in ruins. It was an attack that no one could have survived. All of his friends were dead. Hoagland Central Communications, the largest of the domes, was near indistinguishable from the others. The attack was thorough. Nothing was unscathed.

Even the massive landing pad beyond the domes, with its huge support columns, was but a grotesque, twisted pile of exploded and melted debris. The dozens of transports that typically sat atop it, nothing but rubble.

Erich scanned the horizon, looked upwards into space, and stared at Earth. The enemy fleet was gone, and the Earth looked as blue, beautiful, and alive as ever. His mind warred with his heart. He desperately wanted to believe that Earth was safe, but couldn’t find a reason to hope.

He swallowed, his eyes watering as he thought of his wife. His mind traveled back to their last conversation, and he envisioned how pretty she would’ve been in her negligee. When he thought of never seeing his daughter again, tears fell.

His forty hours aboard the skimmer had been for nothing.

He was out of air. There was no miracle—no way to reach his family. He wished he had stayed back with his friends. At least then, he would not have to die alone.

***

“Sorry, sir. That’s the best we can do on our end, with all the radiation,” said the comm officer to Steven.

The message again started to repeat: “This…Erich…rling. Can an…ne hear me?”

“Can we send a signal back without it being intercepted?” asked Steven.

“They might be able to intercept it, but I can route the transmission through one of the Antarctic substations, disguising our signal’s point of origin. There’s enough scattered chatter going on around the planet—I believe we’ll probably just blend in as one more cry for help. The station is unmanned. So, it won’t put any potential survivors at risk. The radiation is also a bit lower at the poles—better signal.”

“Do it,” said Steven to the comm officer.

A moment later the man said, “Connection open, sir.”

“This is Admiral Sherrah. Please respond.”

“This…this is Erich Guerling, I…ought I was…” came the ragged, static filled reply.

“Can you boost your signal or try adjusting your antenna?” asked Steven. “Your signal is very weak.”

A few seconds passed. “Is Earth—is Earth destroyed?” asked Erich.

It was clear that he was crying. Steven looked over at Brooks. “Mr. Guerling. This is Admiral Sherrah. Your signal is much clearer now. I am glad to see that there are survivors. We had feared the worst.”

“Are you going to tell him?” asked Brooks.

Steven nodded. “Part of it.” He enabled the comm. “I am sorry—but yes. The ships that attacked you two days ago have also attacked Earth.” Steven saw no need to tell him how bad it really was. The atmosphere had been seeded with a highly radioactive isotope—painfully, agonizingly killing everything on the surface of Earth within a matter of hours. His voice softened. “I’m sorry.”

There was a long moment of silence between them.

“It’s really—all gone?” said Erich, more to himself than Steven.

Steven didn’t answer his question. “Erich, are you all right? Are there other survivors?”

“I am—alone.”

Steven took a deep breath. “Will you be able to hold out until we can get to you?”

“I’m out of air. I only lasted this long because my team sacrificed themselves. They hoped that I could get back to my family.”

“I’m sorry, Erich. The enemy ships are still in orbit.”

The comm operator interjected, giving Steven an update. “Admiral, the enemy destroyer is breaking out of orbit. Its headed toward the moon. They must have picked up his end of the open transmission.”

“What’s their ETA?”

“Nine minutes at their current speed,” answered the comm operator.

“Erich, the enemy has picked up your signal. They are on their way to you. You have nine minutes,” said Steven.

“Not to worry. My air is gone. I will be joining my family, Admiral. The bastards can’t take that from me.” Erich’s breathing grew labored, his suit recycling bad air. “Goodbye, Admiral. Avenge us.”

Steven seethed for the billions of Earth’s dead. He hadn’t slept for the better part of three days. His mind was filled with the horrifying images of what he had witnessed. His jaw tensed. “You have my word—I will.”

Erich disconnected the transmitter and slammed it to the ground, smashing it. Taking a seat on the edge of the crater, he twisted a small dial on his chest plate, venting his air. Looking at Earth, his last thoughts were of his family. “I’m coming home, Laurie. I’m coming home.”

Fifteen Years Later

The RED ALERT warning burst to life, awakening Steven from a much-needed sleep. His heart hammered in his chest, his mind fighting to comprehend. It was the first time the alarm had sounded since Enlil’s attack, fifteen years earlier.

“Gena, connect me to the Command Center.” As the computer slowly brought the light up in the room, his eyes followed his wife’s naked form and the graceful sway of her hips as she crossed the room to don a robe. As it slid about her shoulders, he felt blessed to be the owner of such beauty. Like a ghostly apparition, she exited the room, the hem of her robe sweeping along the floor. However, it was the image of the womanly figure beneath that lingered as she checked on their children.

A chime signaling his waiting connection sounded. “This is Sherrah. What have you got?”

“Sir, we’re receiving an emergency distress call on an old public bandwidth. I apologize for the alarm, but Gena was set to respond to any unusual signal as if it were a threat. We just hadn’t expected the signal to be—homegrown.”

“Homegrown? What’s the origin?” asked Steven.

“Denver.”

“Denver?” An adrenaline-charged excitement surged into his veins. “Denver.” The word rang with clarity. It was the missing piece to President Tomlinson’s unfinished sentence so long ago. He was sure of it. It had been nagging at him for fifteen years. Steven ran the numbers in his mind.
11,000 kilometers—2-hour flight time.
“All right,” said Steven. “Have Stratton grab Robbie and assemble a full TAC team to meet me in Dome 4, Bay 12 in 30 minutes. Add Victor Gregor to the list. I want a medic on the recon. Tell him to be prepared for full triage.”

The smoldering ember that had awakened in him fifteen years before was now blazing hot. His heart fluttered in expectation.