Estimated reading time: 9 minutes
The curved window panel extended from floor to ceiling, covering the length of one side of the command centre. A sea of blackness filled the screen; stabs of sparkling whites and blues scattered in clusters.
“Captain?” A young woman in purple uniform, short hair slicked tight to her scalp like a cap, swivelled around in her chair. The man she addressed was sitting on a high-backed chair in the centre of the room. His uniform design was similar to the woman except it was red and black, with a collar that was upraised.
“Yes, Officer Gildea?”
There was a snigger to the commander’s right. His number two, Lieutenant Rory O’Malley, wearing blue, quickly covered his mouth with his hand.
“We’ve identified a fleet. In Alpha Centauri.” The woman spun back to her terminal, tapping the control panel with dextrous speed. With a swipe of her hand, on the window to the world in front of them, a translucent box appeared. The commander glanced down at his arm rest display and clicked confirm, giving solidity to the feature.
“The 6-7ers?”
There was another suppressed giggle from O’Malley. The bearded man threw up a hand in apology, and coughed.
“Yes, Sir. Visuals are still unclear but radio transmissions from the nearby Higgins satellite have offered approximations of the size and formation of the fleet. Tobey, can you clear that up?”
The seated figure turned to look at his colleague, a long snout sniffing the air, before barking approval.
“Good boy, Tobes.” A tail slipped out from the seat back and wagged from side to side like a windshield wiper. “What do you think, Lieutenant O’Malley?”
The man cleared his throat, leaned forward and studied the logistics box on the screen for several seconds. One window panel became several, stacked on each other. O’Malley flicked between the pages on his arm rest, seeing the changes appear on the long wall in front. The shapes of various crafts began to sharpen. A list of attributes flashed alongside the crafts indicating speed, distance and attributes. A separate window showed heatmap signatures and the number of lifeforms onboard. The man sighed, sat back and scratched his beard.
“Nothing?”
“Sorry Billy,” the man said under his breath. “I’m not as good at this as you.”
The captain smiled, reached out and patted the forearm of his first officer.
“Very well,” he declared. “Schematics suggest that we are indeed encountering a hostile civilisation. It is as I feared. The enemy is near and we have been left with no other option to coordinate a pre-emptive strike. This incursion in our Galaxy will not be tolerated. We must fight to protect our solar system from these insurgents. These…”
“6-7ers,” O’Malley said.
“The 6-7ers,” the captain repeated, struggling to contain his smile.
A bark from one of the terminals brought them back to task.
“What’s that boy?”
He clicked a button on his arm rest, the windows on the front display disappeared, showing the black sky. In the centre was a glowing circle of red dots. Another bark.
“I see it. Ms. Gildea, can we get a visual on that?”
“Aye aye Sir.”
A series of beeps and bops from the console before the dark-skinned woman spun around in her chair again.
“It’s a visual match, Sir. Can confirm six enemy craft circling their mother ship.”
“How many?”
The woman tapped into the console and with a panicked face looked up from the digital readout. “All of them. The entire planet.”
“My God. This is an invasion”
The captain clicked a button on his side rest and there was an audible pop in the speaker system.
“This is Captain William T. Matheson calling all crew within—” He looked askance at his number two.
“The US Liberty?”
Nodding, he continued. “…the US Liberty. My companions, the day we have feared for so long has finally arrived. Our scouting mission has discovered the enemy crossing interstellar borders – a clear violation of IPP protocols 2927b which clearly states that all interplanetary beings should remain within 3,000 lightyears of their origin star, including all stellar and earthbound craft.”
There was another bark at the terminal. The man with the dog face turned, the tongue lolling out as he panted.
“Does he need out?” O’Malley asked.
“No, he’s fine,” the captain said, covering the mic clipped to his uniform collar. “He was water.” Addressing the listeners again: “We have them in our sights. Be assured, we will not fail. We will not see this galaxy overrun by this…cult. These 6-7ers who will infect everyone and everything with their brain rot. We will succeed. Over.”
“Sir, enemy has engaged thrusters. They’re coming right for us!”
They watched as the circle of red pinpoints on the screen dramatically increased in size until the craft bodies could clearly be seen. Each light was a legion of ships, huddled together to give the appearance of one. In the centre, a giant ship, the size of a planet.
“My God,” O’Malley cried. “There must be thousands of them.”
“Estimates suggest 25,000, Sir.”
“That’s enough firepower to wipe us off the face of the universe. We don’t have any defence for something…ow…stop that! It tickles!”
Captain Matheson glanced across and was dismayed to observe his dog-man officer was licking the feet of his lieutenant.
“Tobes. Get out of there.” The dog-man gave a final wet coating before the man lifted his feet out of range. The officer resigned himself to his station in a sulk.
“Sir, enemy has activated phasers. Set to charge. 5%…10%…”
“Establish radio contact immediately. Tobey!”
The dog-man quickly resumed his seat and tapped into his terminal furiously.
“20%. Sir, it’s climbing. Fast!”
“Tobey!”
The dog-man barked and Captain Matheson wasted no time, hitting the button in the armrest.
“Patch me through.” The dog-man barked once again. Anxiously, they waited, hearing the dial tone from the intercom repeat.
“They aren’t answering,” O’Malley said. “What do we do Captain?”
Flashing amber signs appeared in the bridge.
Warning. Warning. Defence Systems Self-Activated. Threat Detected. Warning. Warning.
“Shut that thing up, damn it!”
“Sir, they’re at 40%. 50%.”
“Officer Tobey. If communication can’t be established, can they still hear my message?”
The officer-dog gave a paws-up sign.
“Worth a try?” O’Malley nodded at his superior. “This is Captain Matheson of the US Liberty. You have trespassed and in clear violation of interstellar policies, you leave us no option but to engage in warfare. This is your last chance.”
The colour in the bridge flashed from amber to red. Somewhere within the craft, sirens were blaring on high alert. On the screen, the giant ship had closed the distance and taken over the entire view. The assembled crew on the flight desk watched in awe. The size was hard to fathom, tall as skyscrapers and so wide that it blocked out the sun.
Splintering off their orbit, crafts sped away in all directions leaving the hulking steel vessel – a polished shiny eye. A dull orange glow emanated from the centre, growing in strength.
“I repeat. We do not seek war. We seek peace. It doesn’t need to end like this!”
“75%. 80%.”
They watched as the orange glow turned to a volcanic deep orange-red before turning brighter still.
“Sir, the communication link is activated. Message. Incoming.”
“Quick,” the captain shouted above the blaring noise of sirens. “What’s it say?”
Officer Gildea pressed a button on the panel, and crackling static played through the speakers.
“Clean it up for Goodness sake. Hurry!”
The static cleared and there was the sound of laughter on the other side. Confused, the crew looked at each other, before voices could be heard.
“Six seven six seven haha. Six seven.”
“The blasted brain rot mustn’t get through. We must fight it!” Captain Matheson said, hitting the armrest button to activate comms. “All crew. Brace for impact.”
The bright red glow from the ship filled the entire view of the screen. The room at once felt hotter and sweat flowed freely from their faces. Instinctively, O’Malley reached across and took the arm of Captain Matheson. They held hands and looked at each other.
“It’s been a pleasure serving with you Sir.”
“The pleasure was all mine.”
The bright light of the phaser blinded the crew and they had to shield their eyes. Above the screaming sirens, was the voice of officer Reynolds.
85%. 90%. 100%. Attack imminent. Attack—
Light flooded the room, and they covered their eyes.
“Boys, what are you still doing up?”
“Ma, you came at the best part.”
“Yes, Mrs. Matheson. Billy and me were about to destroy an alien spacecraft.”
“Is that so?” the woman said, standing against the doorway. “And I suppose you didn’t hear all that scratching at the door then?”
The boys both looked at each other and then at the black and white collie in the corner of the room. Beside the dog, on the carpet was a dark wet patch.
Billy sat up against the headboard and removed the thick pillows that had encircled him, serving as his little command centre. Rory O’Malley – his number two in charge – also disengaged from his post, placing the pillows beside the bed.
“Billy, I want that cleaned up now. Take Tobey out. Long past your bedtime boys. Rory, your mam will be furious if she knew you were up this late.”
The woman left the room and the dog, in two minds about following her out, stayed and started licking the feet of Rory once again.
“Come on, Tobes,” Billy said, getting out of bed. There was a packet of wet wipes on top of the little desk. He threw them over to Rory.
“I’ll take him out. You OK to give that a quick wipedown?”
Rory smiled. “Aye aye, Captain.”
This story was written for the ambitious creative project, ‘The Weekly Kook’, where I release a brand new short story every week for a year, totalling…yep, you guessed it – 52 stories.
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