Planet America, page 1
PROOF POSITIVE
Tomm looked at Hunter. They had to prove to Officer Lisa that they were from outer space, or they were never going to get out off this screwy planet. Hunter sighed, pulling a small white box from his pocket and activated the button on top. There was a sudden flash and a burst of green smoke. When it cleared, Hunter's flying machine was standing in the middle of the big room, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.
Lisa's jaw fell open. She turned pale. She tried to say something, but nothing came out. Catching her breath, she slowly approached the spacecraft, and touched it.
She gasped, "This can't be real..."
They took her at her word—and Zarex snapped his fingers. There was another burst of smoke, and suddenly the clanking robot 33418 was standing before them—all ten feet of him. Metallic muscles, arm weapons, death-ray visor. The works.
Lisa looked up at him. 33418 made an odd whirring sound.
And that's when she fainted dead away.
She hit the floor with a bang, taking several rickety chairs down with her.
"Oh great!" Zarex moaned. "Now what do we do with her?"
MACK MALONEY
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
PLANET AMERICA
An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Ace mass-market edition / November 2001
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2001 by Brian Kelleher.
Cover logo by Michael Herring.
Cover art by Jean Targete.
Cover design by Pyrographx.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
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ISBN: 0-441-00878-X
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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Also by Mack Maloney
STARHAWK I
CHOPPER OPS
CHOPPER OPS 2: ZERO RED
CHOPPER OPS 3: SHUTTLE DOWN
For more information visit www.MackMaloney.com
CONTENTS
Part 1 - While Shooting the Five-Arm
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
Part 2 - Ashley's Dream
8
9
10
11
Part 3 - Moon 39 vs The Love Rockets
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
While Shooting the Five-Arm
1
The secret base was located just beneath the surface of the tiny jungle moon.
It had two hidden openings: one to the east, another to the west. Both were cut out of sheer rock. The top of the base was covered by thick vegetation and hidden by a perpetual blanket of fog. Two towers poked up through this mist, guarding the entrances at either end of the base. A series of ancient ruins stood nearby, too; they masked ventilation tubes for the hidden chamber below. Other than that, the secret base was invisible.
The underground facility was large enough to accommodate an entire squadron of spacefighters. Trouble was, these eighteen combat spacecraft were no match for the calamity that was about to befall the secret base. The few hundred people inside were the last holdouts of an antümperial faction that had once proliferated in this part of space. They had fled here after a series of battles with the hated imperial forces. But somehow the secret location of this last safe haven had been compromised. Now their enemies were about to finish them off in a most gruesome manner.
A huge mechanical battle star—the enemy's most powerful weapon—was drawing close to the tiny jungle moon. This enormous space station carried an immense death ray capable of destroying an entire planet in a matter of seconds. It could vaporize a tiny moon such as this in the blink of an eye.
The enemy death star had shown up out of nowhere. It was presently on the other side of the planet around which the tiny moon revolved. It was moving very swiftly, though, and once the mother planet got out of the way, the enemy's gigantic death ray would have a clear shot at the moon.
The rebels faced an impossible task then: trying to stop the battle star before it destroyed the tiny moon. The problem was, the rebels' rather puny spacefighters were built only for combating other spacefighters. Attempting to disable or even destroy the huge ball of metal coming their way was light-years removed from their capabilities.
Still, all eighteen of the rebel spacecraft were getting ready to launch and give it a try. The pilots all knew this would probably be their final mission. At least half the rebel spacefighters would have to be dispatched against the fifty or so opposing fighters this big, black, death station thing was known to be carrying; stopping them would be another impossible task. There was no doubt that the rebel pilots would fight the good fight, for they were known far and wide for their bravery. But the reality of the situation was clear: Against the powerful battle star and its own combat spacecraft, die rebels' valiant effort would probably end in a very brief, very one-sided contest.
There was no little chaos within the secret base now. Pilots getting strapped into their spacecraft. Mechanics doing last-second checks on the small, swift fighters. Squads of security troops rushing to their positions; robots of all shapes and sizes scurrying about as well. Above it all, a high-pitched warning Klaxon was bleating full blast.
The rebel spacefighters were lined up along a launching ramp that cut right through the middle of the subterranean chamber. Standing next to this ramp was a handful of people. One was a young woman. She was very pretty, dressed all in white, with odd, tightly woven pigtails rolled like pinwheels against the sides of her head. She was the leader of the rebels. She was known to all simply as the Princess.
Close by were two young men. One had blond hair, a flashy uniform, and a strangely blunt swordlike device stuck in his belt. He was about to climb into the last of the waiting spacefighters; indeed, he would be the last pilot to strap in. Despite appearances, he was a bit overwhelmed by the drama of the moment. He looked a bit like the Princess. Possibly he was her brother.
Next to him was an older, rakish man, more weathered than the kid. He was loading supplies onto another spacecraft, one different in shape and size from the rebel spacefighters. Though the Princess was obviously fretting about the looming catastrophe, this man was trying to sneak peeks at her shapely rear end every chance he could get. Several steps behind him was the strangest individual of all. Very tall. Weird face. Big teeth. Hair from the top of the head to the soles of the feet.
The combined whine of spacecraft propulsion units filled the chamber now. All of the spacefighters were carrying substantial weapons loads, the very last of the rebels' ammunition stores. The warning Klaxon began blaring even louder. The lights inside the hidden chamber suddenly became dim.
Then an amplified voice announced in ominous tones, "The battle star will be in attack position in two minutes...."
These words sent a wave of grim electricity through the hidden base. Pilots revved their propulsion units. The first of the spacefighters began moving toward the chamber's opening. On the Princess's signal, the lead craft shot forward and roared out of the chamber, climbing through the fog into the skies beyond. It was followed close behind by the rest of the squadron, all except for the spacefighter being piloted by the kid who looked a bit like the Princess.
No sooner had the seventeen spacecraft departed when the walls of the chamber reverberated once again with the gloomy, amplified voice. "The battle star will be in attack position in one minute, fifty seconds...."
The Princess looked around the nearly empty facility. She choked back a tear. She considered this tiny moon very dear to her. Soon, it would be blown to bits.
"One minute ... forty-five seconds ..."
She turned toward the kid's spacefighter; he was ready to take off and just waiting to have one last word with her.
"One minute ... forty seconds ..."
Their eyes locked—tears on both sides now. It appeared as if both were going to speak at the same time, when a very strange sound interrupted them. They turned to see a spacecraft swooping down out of the sky and heading right for the eastern approach to the hidden chamber.
What was this? Was one of their spacefighters returning to base? Why? Even extreme mechanical trouble was not an ade-quate excuse for avoiding combat under these dire circumstances.
But this craft was not a returning spacefighter. That was apparent almost immediately. It looked unlike any spacecraft those left inside th e chamber had ever seen. It was not built in the standard triangular fashion that prevailed in all flying things throughout the Galaxy. This aircraft was slender, tubular. It had wings. Stranger still, it had wheels.
And it was traveling so fast that not two seconds after first spotting it, it was suddenly right in front of them, screeching to a halt about twenty feet from where the Princess and her party stood. A faint green mist was spilling from the tail end of its fuselage. Its rubber wheels sizzled on the chamber's damp concrete floor.
This strange craft had appeared so quickly, the chamber's security troops had had no time to react. Now, as the Princess watched, the bubble-shaped canopy on top of the winged machine popped open. Two men could be seen inside. One of them climbed out from the back of the cockpit and jumped down to the oil-stained floor below. Only then did the security troops go into action. They quickly surrounded the hissing spacecraft and seized the man who had jumped from it.
But the Princess raised her hand, freezing the soldiers in place. The man was wearing a long, brown cassock and a tight white collar around his neck. He looked up at the Princess, then bowed deeply. He was short, of middle age, probably close to 200 years old. His face was that of a weary man of faith caught in a very faithless part of the Galaxy.
Obviously, he was a priest.
"My apologies, your highness," he said now. "My friend and I are lost and we are seeking directions ..."
The Princess stared back at him, incredulous.
"You're looking for directions?"
"We are, your highness," the priest said, finally straightening from his deep bow. "We took a wrong turn at the last star system and..."
She raised her hand, cutting him off.
"Excuse me, Padre," she said through gritted teeth. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, but we are in sort of a situation here. This base, this entire moon, is about to be blown to kingdom come, if you will pardon the expression. So forgive me if I seem discourteous, but you could not have picked a worse place to stop and ask for directions!"
The priest just stared back at her. He didn't look surprised or frightened. Just perplexed.
"My lady, we had no idea..." he began to stutter in reply. "Our approach was extremely speedy, and it was difficult to see what was ..."
Just then, the mechanical voice blared throughout the chamber again.
"The battle star will be in position to fire in one minute and twenty-five seconds...."
The Princess's features dropped a mile, as if all the air had suddenly been let out of her. She was no less pretty. But tears had come to fill her eyes.
"We are but seconds away, Father," she whispered. "Then it will all be over."
"The battle star will be in position to fire in one minute, twenty seconds...."
The Princess looked down at the priest and added gloomily, "Perhaps your arrival here is the most opportune thing to happen. We all need some promise of salvation at this moment. Though I fear you might have come too late."
The priest glanced back at the strange craft he'd arrived in. Its pilot was looking out at him, his face barely visible beneath his enormous lightning bolt-adorned helmet. His body language seemed to be asking, "Just how lost are we?"
"One minute, fifteen seconds ..."
More tears came to the Princess's eyes. Her companions looked very dejected as well.
Yet the priest was able to muster a slight, if anxious, smile.
He took a step forward. "Your highness, as quickly as you can, please tell me the details of your situation here."
She started to bark back at him, but now it was his turn to interrupt. He raised his hand gently to her lips.
"No time for that, child," he said firmly. "Just tell me: Who is trying to annihilate you and why?"
The Princess paused, but only for a second. Then she began talking very rapidly, telling the priest that she and her subjects were rebelling against a vile, merciless imperial force that sought to rule this part of space. This enemy's ultimate weapon, a huge battle star nearly as big as the moon itself, would soon be in a position to fire its all-powerful death ray at them. This weapon was capable of destroying entire planets. This tiny moon would prove no match for it.
While all these words were spilling out, the priest was holding the Princess's hand and staring deeply into her eyes. He was looking for something behind the words, something deeper within. Just as the doomsday voice announced there was but one minute left before the base would be destroyed, the priest put his finger to the Princess's lips again.
"Enough, my child," he said. "I understand the situation now, and what's more, I believe you."
She stopped only long enough to catch her breath.
"And now you will perform the last rites?" she asked, a small measure of defiance returning to her voice.
The priest shook his head. "No, your highness," he said softly. "Now, I will attempt to save you."
He walked back to the strange spacecraft and had a hurried conversation with the pilot. The pilot shrugged twice and wearily adjusted his crash helmet. The priest stepped back from the craft, and the pilot lowered the canopy again. The pilot could be seen pushing some controls in front of him.
Then, suddenly, the craft disappeared.
Or at least that's what it looked like.
Actually, the odd flying machine had exited the base so quickly, it just seemed to disappear. Its speed was so swift, it couldn't be adequately measured or comprehended by the human brain. It was that fast. No one inside the chamber except the priest had ever seen anything like it. The Princess was especially stunned.
"Your friend has left you here? To die with us?" she asked the priest.
But he just shook his head. "No, your highness," he said. "In fact, he'll be right back..."
And no sooner were those words out of his mouth, when indeed, the strange aircraft zoomed back through the entrance portal and was again sitting on the launch ramp, no more than twenty feet away.
"What sorcery is this!" the Princess exploded.
Her security troops surrounded the aircraft in force this time. No less than six soldiers ran forward and grabbed the priest.
But then came the sound of an incredible explosion from above. Suddenly, the walls of the hidden base were shaking violently. The sky outside its portals turned fiery red. Billions of pieces of flaming material were streaking through the tiny moon's atmosphere, creating a spectacular if frightening light show. Then cheering could be heard from the hidden base's control center.
But what had happened?
The pilot climbed out of his spacecraft and approached the Princess. He bowed deeply as well, the proper thing to do in front of a princess—any princess.
"Your enemy is no more," the pilot announced bluntly. "You and your people are safe again."
The Princess remained frozen to the spot. She still wasn't getting the drift of all this. The pilot recognized her plight and reached into the breast pocket of his black flight suit. He came out with a viz disk.
"This will explain it all," he said.
But the Princess looked no more enlightened. She clapped her hands, and one of the chamber's robots raced over to her. She pushed the viz disk into a slot in its cranium. There was a click and a beep. Then a 3-D image sprang to life in midair about three feet from her deep brown eyes.
What the disk showed seemed to be impossible. It was a recording of a massive space battle, first involving up to fifty spacefighters, all of them belonging to the despised enemy of the rebels. This battle was being projected from the point of view of the very unusual winged and wheeled flying machine, its nose aglow with a bright red flame. Essentially, it showed a series of impossibly quick explosions; these were the enemy fighters simply blowing up as the strange flying machine twisted crazily through a small area of space just a hundred miles above the moon's surface. In the background, the black, grim-looking battle star was moving into position.
With the enemy fighters so quickly dispatched, the flying machine headed right toward the enormous ball of metal. Suddenly, it was flying through the battle star's canyon of external channels. At one point, the flying machine's nose lit up again. The rays it spewed forth went down one of the shafts adjacent to the battle star's main channel.
