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The Cockroach Crusade (Sic Transit Terra Book 5)

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by Arlene F. Marks

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ABOUT THE BOOK GENRE:   Science Fiction   Action & Adventure   Space Opera     KINDLE     KOBO     NOOK     i-BOOK     google PLAY     AMAZON.COM     AMAZON.CA E-BOOK: ISBN: 9781770531956 EPUB, MOBI $5.99 US Paperback: ISBN: 9781770531963 Trade Paperback 5.5" X 8.5" $14.95 US $19.95 CDN 288 pages BISAC:   FIC028000   FIC028010   FIC028030

The Cockroach Crusade (Sic Transit Terra Book 5) by Arlene F. Marks Copyright © 2018 by Arlene F. Marks CHAPTER 1 March 22, 2401 C.E. on Earth. It was seldom quiet for long on Daisy Hub, so whenever they found themselves in a lull, the crew tried to make the most of it. Engineering Specialists Spiro Gouryas and Devanan Singh were putting every available field technologist to work, assembling what they hoped would be a functioning control panel for the Nandrian field generator on the landing deck. Cargo Inspector Robert O’Malley was doing what he always did in his spare time — updating the information in the Hub’s databank and then mining it for interesting nuggets. Life Support Specialist Jason Smith and Ajda Gray, the Hub’s agronomist, were making plans to create an alien biosphere aboard the station in preparation for ssalssit essendi, the ritual exchange of living symbols that would finally cement the alliance between House Daisy Hub and the Nandrians. Chief Cargo Inspector Gavin Holchuk and crew member Max Karlov were taking turns babysitting Odysseus, the Mitradean refugee currently detoxing in guest quarters after ingesting a large dose of caffeine. (Letting the little alien anywhere near a container of java had turned out to be a huge mistake, one that no one on the Hub would be committing again anytime soon.) Almost everyone else was in Cargo Inspector Lu Xensiu’s dojo on D Deck, practicing ninja moves. Nobody was sleeping. Station Manager Drew Townsend wasn’t fond of lulls. Invariably, they pushed his mind into overdrive, forcing him to relive unpleasant experiences and second-guess past decisions. This evening, as he sat behind his desk on AdComm, sipping from a cup of Chef Fritz Jensen’s famous brew, his thoughts kept revolving around the jarring revelations of the past few days. The most disturbing had come from the two women now occupying their stations across the deck from him, pretending that everything was business as usual. Data and Communications Specialist Lydia Garfield had let slip that she’d been saving "useful" vidclips recorded by the Hub’s security monitoring system. She had an agenda, he was certain of it. What it was, and whether she actually had something on him, were yet to be determined; but neither question was at the top of Townsend’s list right now. According to the Nandrians, a big nasty was on its way, headed directly for Daisy Hub. Could he count on Lydia to back him up when it hit? A handful of days ago, the unhesitating reply would have been yes. Today, he was no longer sure. He was wondering as well about his second in command, Assistant Station Manager Ruby ‘Mom’ McNeil. Ruby had privately revealed to him that, like Drew, she was an undercover Earth Intelligence agent. The first such operative ever to be assigned there, she’d been living aboard the Hub for more than twenty standard years. He knew that someone on his crew was a mole, under the direct command of a higher-up at Earth Intelligence HQ. Could that person be Ruby? Could she have been the one who executed the kill order on Drew’s predecessor, Karim Khaloub? He only wished he knew. And then there was the Earth resistance, a movement that didn’t exist yet. He’d apparently planted the idea in the crew’s minds during a speech a couple of years earlier, and now it had taken firm root. According to Ruby, the resistance was the only Terran organization these maverick geniuses would willingly serve. Of course it was. Townsend needed to keep Earth from finding out that Daisy Hub had effectively seceded from it by independently entering into a defense pact with an alien race. At the same time, he couldn’t risk letting his crew find out that they’d been co-opted and were now working for the EIS (itself a subversive organization). Having to protect both secrets left Drew no choice — sometime soon, he would have to create and run an off-world anti-government movement of his own. It couldn’t be a con, either. His people were canny as well as brilliant. They would know if it were just for show. This resistance would have to strike an actual, telling blow against the Earth High Council. And therein lay the problem. Putting together an organization was simple — the crew of Daisy Hub was already a deep space version of the Warrior Kings street gang. But, effecting real change on their home world from an orbiting gulag on the margin of Earth space? That was going to be a much tougher challenge. No wonder Townsend was having trouble sleeping at night. Letting out a weary sigh, he leaned backward into his chair, consciously relaxing his neck and shoulders. He closed his eyes, breathing in, breathing out. Savoring the stillness of the moment. Knowing in the depths of his being that it couldn’t last… "Drew, I’ve got an incoming message from Zulu," Lydia called to him across the deck. It figured. He sighed again, heaved himself to his feet, and crossed to the main console. Anything coming from the Rangers’ observation platform was probably not going to be good news, but he was too tired to worry about it. Mainly, he was wishing he were a snake. Snakes could shed their skin. They could emerge clean and new and then slither away, leaving the crust of their former self — with all its accumulated baggage — behind them. That, more than anything, was what he longed to do right now: shed the weight of all the secrets he’d been carrying around and get on with the rest of his life. "Are you opening a shelter for aliens over there?" demanded Captain Rodrigues’s voice. "First a giant prawn shows up, and now a cockroach the size of my nine-year-old niece." Jerked wide awake, Townsend nearly gave himself whiplash. "Is this a joke, Paul?" "You tell me. We’re tracking a craft on our long range scanners. It entered the system an hour ago and, judging by its course corrections, its destination is Daisy Hub. When we established contact, the pilot identified itself as Corvou and announced that ‘the Mother of All’ had finished making the universe, whatever the hell that means." Ruby had been waiting silently nearby. Now she shifted her stance and murmured, "Never rains but it pours, doesn’t it?" "It could be another refugee seeking asylum," Townsend pointed out. "I don’t think so," said Rodrigues. "Now it’s insisting that we have to give it access to something it built. Claims that the future of the entire Corvou race depends on it." Drew heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. "Something a Corvou built?" Lydia whispered hoarsely. "Is he talking about Devil Bug?" Ruby laid a warning hand on Townsend’s forearm. Her forehead was furrowed, her mouth a short, straight line. "We need that shuttle, Chief," she told him in an urgent undertone. "If anything happens to it, we may never find a replacement." He knew that. Townsend stared for a moment at the console’s light screen. The alien craft was still too far away to show up on the monitor. And it hadn’t hailed them yet, probably because it was already in contact with the authoritative voice of the Rangers. "We need to communicate with the Corvou, Paul. Care to patch us through?" "No, but I’ll share the frequency with you. Remember, I’ll be listening in. Mute your mic when you’re not addressing the alien, so you and I can continue to talk privately on this channel." "Copy that," said Lydia. She busied herself with the many buttons and switches on her board. Then she turned and gave Drew a thumbs-up sign. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Corvou pilot, this is Daisy Hub Control. Please specify your intentions," he said, enunciating clearly in case this alien, like Odysseus, was using a translation device. It was. After a several seconds, a flat, tinny, obviously manufactured voice responded, "The Mother of All has finished making the universe. We must prepare our part of it for inspection. Open your landing deck doors so that I can complete my work." Drew and Ruby exchanged puzzled looks. "And what exactly does your work entail?" he asked the alien. Another few heartbeats later, the Corvou replied, "The vessel inside your station is not whole. I have brought the missing parts to install." "Townsend, a word?" Rodrigues cut in. Lydia muted the feed to the alien ship. "I don’t like the smell of this," the Ranger continued tautly. "How does it know you have one of its ships? It could be a ruse to gain access to the Hub." Ruby was shaking her head. "When Soaring Hawk traded with the Nandrians for the shuttle, it was missing parts, that much is true. Hawk had to jerry-rig stuff together to make it work before I could fly it. If this Corvou has brought us the correct factory components, then I don’t think we should turn it away." Not to mention the whole "destroying the future of an alien race" thing that had stuck inside Townsend’s brain. "Are you detecting any weapons on the Corvou ship, Paul?" he asked. "Nothing is showing up on our scans so far. That doesn’t mean it isn’t armed, or that the pilot can’t have hostile intentions." "True," Townsend responded, "but this is a first contact situation, and first contacts are inherently risky for both sides. So, let’s not assume the worst here. If the alien ship is in fact unarmed, it should be able to get within ten klicks of the station without tripping our invisibility field."

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