REDEMPTION TRAIL

The short flight to the planet's surface proved to be far more horrifying than Krey had imagined. He had been looking forward to the opportunity of piloting the late-model craft, but that simple pleasure was over-shadowed by the cold, eerie sights of Theti's demise. He saw numerous spaceliners and space busses that had been ripped open with their precious cargos of passengers spilled to the inhospitable rigors of space. Bodies of men, women, children, young, and old, floated aimlessly in the cold, empty darkness among crushed, scattered ruins of human-built devices. Death and destruction was so vast and widespread that Krey almost felt like a heartless intruder who was maliciously trespassing on the most sacred of graves. The silent, nameless souls that surrounded him relentlessly etched at his sanity; he felt great contempt for whatever hand had forged such despair, as well as overwhelming pity for those who had met their untimely demise.
Krey did not have a chance to think about personal matters during the rapid-fire events that had taken place since they reached Theti, but that quickly changed during the lonely, desolate flight to the planet's surface. He thought about the letter from Delaina, which had been sent from somewhere on Theti; he knew that she was undoubtedly dead. He wondered about the relationship they started so long ago; he wondered if Delaina might still be alive if he had not driven her to the distant world of Theti with his drinking problem.
For quite some time, Krey wallowed in agony and self-pity as he took it upon himself to shoulder the burden and responsibility for Delaina's death. During the lengthy years that somehow slipped through his hands, he nurtured the misguided notion that when he quit drinking, he would look-up Delainaand she would be waiting for him with a bright, cheerful smile. A tear formed in his eye as he thought about the irresponsible stupidity of such a notion. At the age of 24, Krey finally realized that people can't be shelved like a canister of beer, then taken down later when the whim suits him.
Krey was extremely hard on himself as he thought about the kind of person he had become, or at least the kind of person that he saw himself as in the wake of Delaina's demise. He realized that he had been extremely irresponsible in the pastand he was determined not to let that irresponsibility haunt him into the future. He was, after all, the captain and commander of the only space vehicle above a devastated world in dire need; he had to be responsible. That thought haunted him, and frightened him, as he flew the lonely service tug through the empty sea of drifting dead.

The bridge of the Star Saber had also taken on a lonely, eerie stillness in the shadow of the drifting dead. Cassie was sitting in the copilot's seat, in order to monitor the computer console, though she did her best to ignore the atrocities beyond the forward windows by focusing her attention on The General's diary. She finally had ample opportunity to read the treasured antique, and was hoping to finish it before the World War Five hero came on board.
Page by page, Cassie followed the gruesome battle and the hero who fought against insurmountable odds in an effort to push the war to a clear and decisive conclusion:

No commander in human history could have directed a finer breed of men and women than this hallowed crew of RQ-733. They fight tenaciously, with no regard for their own lives or safety in their effort to free the human realm from the Forth Order's cruel concept of redemption by death for non-believers. A crew like this brings a commander great pride, as well as great pain.

Case in point: Today I received a report that someone in the starboard gunnery section had actually managed to destroy a carnivorous robotic insect, and that there might be enough remnants of the damnable thing left to analyze. For a fleeting moment, we had hopes of mounting an offensive against the insect population, though that hope was fleeting at best.

The report also mentioned an associated injury to the soldier who stopped the robotic insect, and that the soldier was requesting relief in order to seek medical attention. I checked the command console and noticed that the starboard particle beam was not dispatching its ordinance at the usual rate; it was sporadic and intermittent. I felt incredibly proud of this unnamed soldier who refused to leave the gun without reliefI wanted to meet him myself. I pulled a man off of the navigation station to relieve the soldier, then the two of us headed for the starboard gun.

I remember my words clearly; I foolishly said, `I'm going to pin a metal on that man's chest'. When we reached the gun, I discovered that `that man' was actually a womana heroin and a soldier of the absolute highest caliber. Her right leg was severed just above the knee; she was bleeding, weak, and barely consciousyet she continued to dispatch her ordinances. There are few sights that will bring tears to eyes that have seen nothing but death and destruction, but the sight of Sgt. Alice Hollerman clinging to her post at the edge of death certainly brought tears to mine.

As we took Sgt. Hollerman from her gun, we learned that a carnivorous robotic insect entered her right shin; she intercepted the insect somewhere about the thigh with a large caliber sidearm, which completely dismembered the limb. She tied off the wound, called for help on the ship's intercom, then faithfully returned to her gun.

Sgt. Alice Hollerman died in my arms on the way to the medical section; I felt so helpless and weak in the shadow of such a courageous soldier. Her last words were, "At least I can be judged by the God of my choosing." If this diary survives me, I want it known that Sgt. Alice Hollerman should be awarded the highest honor that the UN has to offer; she has my full recommendation for the United Nations Metal of Heroics and Valor.

I pray that God smiles on these brave men and women on their journey to the hereafter. They have stood their ground to the death, fighting for nothing more than each other's right to worship whichever God they honor. They are much more than damn-good soldiersthey are saints.

Tears filled Cassie's eyes as she looked up from the reverently aged pages. She glanced out the forward windows at the drifting wreckage and silent bodies looming ominously in the distance. She thought of how the sight was so uncannily similar to the scenes The General had described in his diary. She was somehow certain that, once again, The General would right the horrible wrongs that had been committed against his precious human realm.
She turned the page, then continued with The General's account.

Casualties were extremely high again today; we lost 124 men and women when the Phantom struck the mess hall. The damnable vessel appeared not more than fifty yards from the hull just outside the mess hall at the peak of morning chow. It would seem that the Phantom not only knows our exact position, but also knows our ship's layout as well as our personnel schedule. Because of this, I am beginning to suspect that a spy is on board, which might also explain how the robotic insects are finding their way onto our ship.

We too have managed to inflict casualties, despite the fact that we had to modify operations; Star Saber's are most effective in tandem, but we've been forced to fight the Forth Order single-handed since RQ-653 went down. Spurred by the anger of the attack on the mess hall, our gunners managed to take out sixteen vessels in a single day, leaving the scales tilted in our favor. As near as we can assess, there are only two Forth Order vessels left; one is an unidentified craft, which is trying to stay hidden on the other side of the planet by maintaining an opposite orbit, the other is the Phantom.

Our munitions experts have deployed several missiles to seek out the vessel on the other side of the planet; it should meet its end within the hour. Destroying the Phantom, however, will not be so simple. We only have a fragment of our original engineering crew, and they are desperately working on the problem of locating the elusive craft that stays hidden in the time continuum. They tell me that they now have a workable theory, but its implementation will take some time. Our original crew of 1,200 has been reduced to 36we have very little time.

Cassie turned the page, only to find it empty. She flipped through several more blank pages, then came to the realization that she had read The General's last entry.
The General's account of history struck deep into the very core of Cassie's being. She looked out the window at the shattered remains of Theti as thoughts of World War Five haunted her. She somehow wished that she were a part of that great war, yet she was glad that she had been spared the pain, suffering, and death, which had relentlessly plagued the previous crew of that rusted, crumbling Star Saber.
Cassie let out a heavy sigh as she reached for her metal case, which had become the preferred hiding place for the pilfered antique. She slowly opened the case, then carefully placed the diary among its contents.
Normally, Cassie treasured the opportunity to gloat over the toys in her casebut the experience of their long, exiled flight aboard RQ-733 had changed all that. What was once her pride and joy had suddenly become a source of uneasiness and fear; her expression became noticeably troubled and distant as her worried eyes gazed across her tainted treasures.
When Cassie first came aboard RQ-733, she had no idea that the home-made electronic gadgets in her case would have an adverse impact on the overall safety of the dilapidated Star Saber. She didn't realize, until well after the damage was done, that her caseon that particular shipwas very much akin to Pandora's box. She realized that when the case was first opened, several days earlier at the rear of the bridge, she had inadvertently unleashed a menace that might easily seal her fate, as well as anyone else who happened to take refuge aboard the aged Star Saber.
Cassie also realized that, like Pandora's box, she could not right the wrong by simply closing the lid; the damage was doneand it would stay that way. With slow, disheartened movements, she closed her case, though it would do nothing to avert the disaster that might be waiting for them in the days to come.
"This is Krey Altson, tail number ST-1136, are you there Cassie?"
Cassie quickly stowed her case next to the copilot's seat, then picked up the microphone.
"This is Cassella Hempton, tail number RQ- 733. Yes, Krey, I'm here."
"I think I'm approaching the landing area butahI'm not sure. Everything's leveledthere's huge, busted trees scattered everywhere like toothpicks. There aren't any landmarks left and the topography doesn't even match the charts in the navigation system. The nav system can't get me any closer than this and I don't have enough fuel to put up a search. Can you direct me to the shelter from your vantage point?"
"I think so. Standby..."
Cassie immediately turned her attention to the computer console, then entered a series of commands to home in on the emergency beacon. Within a matter of seconds, the computer calculated the difference between the tug's position and the emergency beacon. Cassie reached for the microphone as the navigation data scrolled up on the screen.
"It's about three kilometers bearing three- one-four. You should be getting the course information on your command screen."
There was a slight delay preceding Krey's reply.
"Yes. Yes, I have it! I don't know if I'll be able to landthere's busted trees scattered everywhere! I haven't seen anything that looks like a clearing anywhere on the planet! ShitI don't know what could'ev done thisI ain't seen nothing like it before!"
"You're coming up to your mark, Kreyfive seconds."
"I copy. I'm going to do a fly-by. Hold it!... I don't believe it; there's a clearing down thereit's the only one I've seen since I entered the atmosphere."
"Is it big enough to land?"
Again, there was a slight pause before Krey replied.
"I donnoI'm going to circle back. I kind'a doubt it. I don't think I can land this thing without setting all these busted trees on fire."
"Be careful, Krey. Take your time!"
Cassie nervously waited in the empty, creaking hulk as Krey circled back to the landing site. She shuddered to think of what might become of her, should something happen to Krey. Although she was fully capable of flying RQ-733 on her own, Krey's expertise were needed to cope with frequent emergencies as well as the temperamental nature of the aged Star Saber. There was also the matter of the service tug; without it she was trapped in the massive, crumbling death trap until another spacecraft happened along. She knew that chances of such an encounter were remote; the Star Saber and service tug appeared to be the only operating space vehicles in the entire solar system.
"We've got problems, Cassie! I don't think we're alone here!"
Cassie lowered her brow as a look of dread swept across her face, "What are you saying!?"
"I'm approaching the clearing at a hover and, ah... It isn't naturalI think it was built specifically to accommodate a space vehicle."
"Are you sure?"
"Dead certain. It looks like all the trees n' shit have been scrapped aside, and dirt's been piled up around the clearing like a crude blast fence; probably to keep the trees from catching fire. There's burn marks, Cassiea spacecraft landed here not too long ago."
Cassie's nervous eyes carefully surveyed the distant, drifting wreckage in search of the mysterious vehicle. She kept her eyes focused on the blackness beyond the forward windows as she keyed the microphone.
"How long ago?"
"Don't know. Maybe hoursmaybe days."
Cassie's look of confusion deepened, "If it was a rescue mission, why didn't they pick up the survivors?"
"I know," Krey's voice was clearly uneasy, "I don't like it. I'm going in."
"Be careful, Krey. Take a portable with you!"
"Copy. ST-1136 out."
Cassie hung up the microphone, then turned to the computer console with plans to scan the radio frequencies for any activity. She realized that something down at the planet's surface was not exactly kosher; if someone went through the trouble of creating a landing zone, then why didn't they pick up the survivors? As near as she could figure, either something scared the would-be rescuers off, or the landing area was created by the invading force for tactic or strategic purposes. Either way, it meant that the invading force, or a component thereof, might still be looming somewhere among the vast wreckage surrounding Theti.

The clearing that Krey described was indeed an immaculate engineering job. The landing area measured nearly two hundred feet across and was crudely paved with highly compressed dirt. The dirt ridge surrounding the clearing was also tightly packed and nicely angled to deflect any thrust up and away from the endless acres of dried, splintered Bao logs just beyond the landing area.
Some of the hardwood logs that littered Theti's surface were a hardy twenty-five feet in diameter, yet they laid broken and splintered like toothpicks. It was a daunting sight; the crushed remains of that planet-wide forest formed a carpet of debris nearly one hundred feet thick, which disappeared into the flat, distant horizon.
Krey could hardly believe the sight as he carefully lowered the service tug to the surface of the devastated planet. His mouth hung open at a crack as his grief-filled eyes surveyed the unprecedented sight. His voice was marred by a cold, ominous whisper.
"What the hell did this?"
The view of the vast field of destruction was short-lived; the service tug soon settled below the surface of Theti's ruins, and the craft's thrust, which was deflected upward by the dirt ridge, gradually grew in height to obstruct the ungodly sight. A moment or two later, the craft touched the ground, then the engines quickly wound down.
Krey idly sat in the pilot's seat for a brief moment as he thought about the disturbing sights he had seen on the planet's surface, as well as those surrounding Theti. It all seemed too horrifying to be real, yet it was far too vivid to be anything else. He let out an uneasy sigh, then unbuckled his flight harness.

Cassie was still monitoring the radio bands for any signs of communications or telemetry data that might have been transmitted by another ship. She was working diligently at the computer console in the still silence of the creaking wreck, when her eyes suddenly lifted to the sound of a subtle, quiet, unusual- sounding click, which came from somewhere underneath the computer console.

Underneath the console, in the tiny, miniature world of cables, brackets, and tubing, a small World War Five menace waited for an opportunity to carry out its assigned task. A carnivorous robotic insect was perched upside down underneath the console; its tiny legs slowly, and quietly, gained ground millimeter by millimeter as it methodically approached Cassie's unprotected lap.
The artificial creature drew another careful step or two, then opened its mandibles as its tiny cameras sized up the target zone. The robotic insects were well aware of the internal structure of the human being; they knew which parts were soft and fleshy, which parts were protected by bone, as well as where the vital organs were located. They were also aware of the difference between genders as well as how the bone structure and organ placement varied from man to woman.
The particular insect that was stalking Cassie had selected a penetration point somewhere in her lower abdomen just above the bony part of the pelvis. It positioned its mandibles for an attack, then crouched down on all six legs in preparation to make the zero gravity leap into Cassie's body. It hesitated, however, when the target area began to move unexpectedly.
When it became apparent that the victim was getting out of the seat, the robotic insect changed its stance in preparation to withdraw, should retreat become necessary. Suddenly, the insect realized that the victim was lowering herself to inspect the underside of the console; it quickly retreated to the cover of several large computer cables.
A brief instant later, Cassie's face appeared below the console. She carefully scrutinized what little she could see of the numerous nooks and crannies, though she kept her face at a prudent distance.
"I know you're down hererotten bastard!"
She was not as certain about the facts as her voice portrayed. She was, however, familiar with artificial intelligence techniques and knew that if an insect was lurking about, in all likelihood, it would succumb to her bluff and retreat to analyze the nature of the missed strike. This approach had both advantages and disadvantages; while it was true that it would buy Cassie some time, it would also leave the robotic insects armed with yet another lesson learnedmaking future attacks more difficult to avoid.
The robotic insect caved in to Cassie's bluff; it slowly, and quietly retreated up the computer cables, then sought refuge inside the console.

A moment or two later, Cassie drew a quick, startled breath as she heard the unmistakable sound of the robot's tiny feet scurrying through an electrical conduit somewhere under the floor. She rose from her position at the console, then sighted down the noise of the retreating robot as it followed the conduit to the rear of the bridge. Cassie's face was filled with shear terror as she listened to the sound of the tiny menace fade somewhere beyond the rear of the bridge; she realized, without any doubt, that the killer robots had singled her out as a target.