2200 hours, January 26th, 2160
MWR FREE, Docking Bay, Dawn-Jackson Armory, Nevada
I watched as all of the men I’d round up were scrambling to recognize the different systems. They looked nervous, and I both understood and appreciated why. I had never fought an Incolma ship before, and the last time this ship did, it ended up floating through space, torn to pieces. It isn’t fair that they have to do this, I thought. I shouldn’t be making them do this.
We flew up to the upper atmosphere, right up besides them. Even with granular size of this ship, it still didn’t compare to the mass of their ship. It was enormous and black and terrifying. Interesting. They had a name on their ship. It was just a jumble of letters as far as I could tell, maybe something in Latin, but I wasn’t too concerned with what ship I was about to get into a dog fight with.
“Shipboard AI, Please say I.” The AI replied, asking what I would like to do.
“Bring down a comm. Screen, and throw a communication request their way. Translate English to Latin their way, and vice versa, our way.”
“Request confirmed, bringing down the screen now, Admiral.” I watched as the screen lowered in front of my seat and stood, watching as the Blackness flickered on to a blue screen with Yellow letters –NO SIGNAL-. I looked on in anticipation. A few seconds went by, then a few minutes. How odd we must look, a human ship and an Incolma, floating and burning fuel a few thousand feet about the Earth’s soil, in some sort of stale-mate. Finally I heard someone shout to me, “Sir! Something’s coming through.”
“Put it up on the main view screen, record it. This might be our first peaceful contact.”
“Patching it through!” I looked down to Bret, who had been staring at me for a long steady while.
“What?”
“Where’s the scar you had on your jaw? The one you got when we were kids?”
“I don’t-“ The screen filled with an image, an Incolma that looked older than any I've seen before. It spoke in very clear words. No translation needed. It knew English.
“You are not worthy of the Ground that you call Home. You do not deserve the dirt that you tread with your filthy footsteps. You are not welcome here.”
“What are you called?”
“How dare you, filth, talk to me without respect? I am called Sapientem on my home. You would say it as The Wise One. What do your people call you?” He was interested in me? Why?
“I am known as Vice Admiral Isaac Free.”
“Vice Admiral? You are in quite a harsh place to be of such importance.”
“I could say the same about you, sir.” He gave a respectful sigh, like he understood the threat.
“You wanted to speak to me, and I shall listen, for you have earned my attention, Filth.” Still with the name calling? Not very professional.
“Yes sir, I understand your time is very important. I would like to know what all of my people what to know. Why are you here? Why are you doing this to use?” He looked at me for a moment, alost like he was trying to build a lie to deliver.
“This is our Galaxy, filth. Our forefathers left this place over ten thousand years ago, on the promise that there was another galaxy, one that was baron of all intelligent life, so, we left on the idea that we could go and claim those planets and populate them. We did so over those thousands of years. I’m sure you can imagine how, upset we were to come back to our home and see that there were guests who had just started to take what they wanted from us, an Empire that is over fifteen thousand years old.”
So that’s it. They think we’re trespassing on their property.
“Sir, you have to understand, the human race has only been around for maybe eight thousand years. We came into existence after you left.” He didn’t seem to like this retort.
“NO! You cannot be that young of a species! That isn’t possible! We will glass this world and any other that you have stepped on!”
“Wait!” It was too late. The view screen went blue with the yellow -NO SIGNAL- before I could try to reason with him.
“What do we do?” Everyone was looking at me. What to do?
“I have an idea, but it’s half crazy, half suicidal.” I looked at Bret; he never just speaks out like that unless he thinks that he has a good plan.
“What is it?”
“We take their ship”
YOU ARE READING
The Milky Way Saga: Cities to Embers (Book 1 of 3)
Science Fiction"In the year 2160, Humans are at war with an alien race who call themselves Incolma, or Denizens. They have destoryed much of what humanity has accomplished in the last 100 years. Now, it is up to Vice Admiral Isaac Free to save humanity, and all t...
