Lieutenant Noonan stood alone on Victory’s bridge with her hands behind her back, watching the disparate vessels on the main screen. Two years ago, she had escaped the death of Admiral von Gunther’s battle group. She alone had survived the horrible debacle against the New Men. Once she had returned to Earth, she’d gone before an emergency session of the Star Watch senior officers in Geneva, Switzerland. There, Admiral Fletcher had berated her for surviving the butchery. He’d said she had fled in the face of the enemy.

  Valerie would like to ask the admiral about his thoughts concerning the accusation now. The lieutenant frowned. The thought wasn’t gracious, she knew. Fletcher had been through a terrible ordeal. For six harrowing months, the Fifth Fleet had journeyed through the void between the Caria and Tannish Systems. Fletcher must not have expected to win through to the Tannish Laumer-Point to the Markus System, yet he had.

  Valerie’s eyes narrowed as she observed the half-wrecked ships out there. The fleet had faced the New Men in two major battles. The first time, the crews had lost. The second time, they watched the star cruisers flee before them. Now, the crews were heading home. They would be able to tell others the New Men weren’t invincible after all. Humanity could win this war.

  We won one battle, but we wouldn’t have done it without Victory and without Captain Maddox leading us.

  Valerie thought about that. Before the present assignment, she’d wanted a line command. She’d wanted to show the universe that she was just as good—no, better—than the next person was. Yet, she had just helped save the Fifth Fleet. She had been in the right place, and in the right slot of command, to help Star Watch win its first critical battle against the New Men.

  Maybe this is where I belong, not in command, but helping Captain Maddox defeat the enemy. Dana, Meta, Keith, Riker and Maddox are becoming my family.

  Valerie frowned. Then, a grin appeared. She realized something else. She felt good about what she had done here. She felt very good indeed.

  ***

  Captain Maddox hurried along a corridor. A smile kept appearing and disappearing. It appeared as he thought about the victory over Oran Rva and the destruction of the four star cruisers attempting to ambush the fleet. The smile disappeared as he wondered about what would happen next.

  I’m half New Men. I’m like them. Yet, I don’t think I’m like them at all. They have insane notions of right and wrong. They think nothing of contemplating the deaths of billions.

  A troubled look swam in the captain’s eyes. He owed his mother a fantastic debt. How had she escaped the New Men? How had she managed to commandeer a spaceship and leave their planet? She was gone. He couldn’t repay her for her sacrifice, but he might be able to pay if forward.

  Maybe that’s what I’m doing. By defeating the New Men, I’m helping my mother’s people, my people.

  That was another thing. Who am I really? I am Captain Maddox of Star Watch. Yet, I’m half New Man.

  “No,” he said. He would not let his DNA decide his future. He had given his allegiance to Earth. He would fight for freedom and the right to choose in life. He would battle against tyranny and against the genetic manipulation of planets and star systems.

  Maddox turned a corner and spied an open hatch. He smelled a faint perfume, recognizing it as Meta’s scent. Her voice drifted down the corridor. Maddox smelled coffee.

  He burst into the cafeteria. Meta, Dana and Sergeant Riker played cards. All three looked up, with cautious Riker putting his cards face down on the table, no doubt to hide their value.

  Maddox stood in the hatch. He wanted to shout. He wanted to jump into the air and click his heels. He’d seen a holo-vid once where a hero had done just that. Yet, that wasn’t like him. He was the cool and collected Intelligence officer.

  The touch of a smile played upon his lips. He came into the cafeteria.

  “You did it,” Meta said.

  Maddox liked the raspy tone in her voice. He nodded.

  Meta let her cards spill from her hand. Two of them showed. They were an ace of hearts and a ten of diamonds.

  The captain ran his fingers through his hair. Why did his throat catch? This wasn’t like him.

  There was something in Meta’s eyes as she stared at him. Was it hunger? Yes, he thought it might be. Maybe she needed too. She needed someone to sweep her off her feet.

  Maddox laughed and took two swift strides toward Meta. He hugged her and picked her off her feet. Then, he spun around, holding her tightly against him. The feel of her breasts against his chest felt glorious. Letting her feet touch the floor, Maddox stared down into her eyes. He kissed her lingeringly. Then, he put his lips by her left ear.

  “We won,” he said.

  Her arms tightened around him. “We won!” Meta shouted.

  Riker whooped with delight.

  “I knew we could defeat them,” Dana said.

  Maddox kissed Meta again.

  Afterward, Meta pushed out of his grasp and clutched one of his hands. “Sit down with us,” she said. “Tell us what happened.”

  Maddox sat down at the table. He began to describe the last battle. As he did, the captain used his hands, showing the various positions of the star cruisers and Victory.

  The sergeant got up, bringing the captain a cup of coffee. Riker refilled everyone else’s cups and brought donuts from the dispenser.

  Maddox continued the tale, enjoying the glow of delight in their eyes. Most of all, he appreciated Meta’s smile every time he looked at her.

  ***

  Second Lieutenant Keith Maker gripped a bottle of long-necked whiskey in his fist. He laughed, raising the bottle high. He had kept the whiskey in his cabin the entire time, a test to his resolve to remain sober. The small ace moved down a corridor with his eyes alight.

  A second later, he put his head down and ran. He raced, laughing as he went. “We beat them bastards!” he shouted. “We shoved their heads in a toilet and flushed.”

  He had been worried. He could admit that to himself now. The journey to Wolf Prime had been wicked hard. Out here in the void between star systems, watching those enemy cruisers—

  “You didn’t get our starship, and you didn’t kill the Fifth Fleet. We chased your asses so you had to piss a crustal field to escape.”

  Keith gulped air, his side beginning to ache. Instead of slowing down, he ran harder. With his fist clutching the long-necked bottle, the second lieutenant moved the whiskey up and down like a baton. He’d raced from the bridge to his room to grab the bottle. Now, he sprinted to the cafeteria to join the others. He heard their voices.

  “I love you all!” Keith shouted, leaping through the open hatch into the cafeteria.

  Maddox, Meta, Riker and Dana sat at the table. Steam rose from their coffee cups.

  “We paddled their bottoms!” Keith shouted, raising his arms in a victory salute.

  “You’re drunk,” Dana said.

  Keith laughed. And he noticed the captain’s frown of disapproval. Last voyage, the captain had threatened to toss him off the starship if he ever got drunk again.

  “Oh no,” Meta said.

  Maddox still said nothing.

  Before the captain could get too upset, Keith marched to them, slamming the unopened whiskey bottle on the table. It shook their coffee cups. Some of the black liquid sloshed over the rim and splashed into a waiting saucer.

  “I’m not drunk,” Keith said. “I haven’t tasted a drop, even though I’d like to. I’ve sworn off drinking. And I keep my word.”

  Maddox glanced at the bottle’s top, and his eyebrows rose.

  “Right,” Keith said. He tore off the wrapper, took out a jackknife and unfolded a blade. He worked the cork up. Finally, he brought the bottle near and used his teeth, removing the cork and spitting it onto the floor. He put the bottle back onto the table and went to a cupboard, grabbing four glasses.

  “I can’t drink,” Keith said. “But that doesn’t mean you lovely people can’t toast our victory over the New Men.”

  He put the glasses in a row, picked up the bottle and let whiskey gurgle into each one. Keith’s eyes shined as he glanced at each person in turn.

  Sergeant Riker leaned forward, grabbing a glass. “Well, I don’t mind if I do.”

  “Very well,” Dana said, taking another glass.

  “Yes,” Meta agreed.

  Silently, Maddox took a whiskey.

  “Raise them high, mates!” Keith shouted. “You’re making a victory toast.”

  Again, Riker led them, raising his glass into the air. Each of them did likewise.

  “To defeating the enemy,” Keith called.

  “To defeating the enemy,” Riker agreed. He clinked his glass against the others.

  They each did likewise. Then, everything gulped.

  Meta began coughing. Riker put his whiskey down easily. Dana sipped, while Maddox simply drank. The captain didn’t seem to enjoy the whiskey, but watched Keith.

  The ace eyed the bottle. Seeing the others enjoy the whiskey put a pang in him. He licked his lips. And he lifted the bottle. Part of him wanted to put it against his mouth and chug. They had done it. But this wasn’t the last battle. This was the beginning of the war. He would need to stay sober for more battles to come.

  With a sigh, Keith set the bottle on the table and made his fingers release the neck. Afterward, he stepped back.

  “Congratulations,” Maddox told him.

  “On how I piloted Victory?” Keith asked.

  “Yes, on that too,” Maddox said.

  Keith understood the captain congratulated him on remaining sober. He appreciated that. Maybe that’s why he’d brought the whiskey here: to show Maddox he could do it.

  “Sit down with us,” Meta said. “The captain is telling us how he—”

  “How we,” Maddox corrected her.

  “How you people defeated the New Men,” Meta said.

  “I’d love to,” Keith said. “First, let me take care of this.” He grabbed the bottle, walked to a sink and upended it, pouring the lovely whiskey away. For yet another mission, he had remained sober. That made two terrific victories.

  As Keith thought about that, he grabbed a cup of coffee and a donut and joined the others at the table,

  ***

  On the bridge, Valerie finally got tired of viewing the ships of Fifth Fleet. She went to her station and sat down.

  Galyan appeared and moved to her. “What are you doing?” the holoimage asked.

  “Keeping watch,” she said.

  “You won a great victory,” Galyan said.

  “We all did,” Valerie said, “you included.”

  “I suppose I should come right out and say it. The others are celebrating. You should go to the cafeteria and join them.”

  “Someone has to stay on guard,” Valerie said.

  “I will do that,” Galyan said. “I have done it for six thousand years. I am used to the post.”

  Valerie wanted to join the others, but she hesitated. Why hadn’t someone asked her to come down there? She almost told Galyan that.

  The intercom buzzed.

  “You see,” Valerie said. “There’s a reason I’m on the bridge.” She tapped the comm unit.

  “Lieutenant,” Maddox said.

  Valerie’s features twisted with surprise. “Yes, Captain?” she asked.

  “Your presence is requested in the cafeteria.”

  “Sir, someone has to keep watch—”

  “Lieutenant,” Maddox said, interrupting. “Must I make it an order, or will you come down here and unwind with us? You have done excellent work, and we should celebrate that before we start on what could be a long voyage home.”

  Valerie blinked several times and smiled. “I’m on my way, sir.”

  “Good, and make sure you hurry, Lieutenant.” The connection cut.

  Valerie stood, and she studied the holoimage of Galyan. “Did the captain send you here to get me?”

  “The bridge is where I belong,” Galyan said.

  “You’re evading the question.”

  “It is possible the captain suggested it,” Galyan said. “Then he must have decided I was taking too long.”

  The alien AI still seemed lonely. What did Galyan think? What did he feel?

  “Come down to the cafeteria with me,” Valerie said. “You belong with us there.”

  Galyan smiled. It was the first time Valerie had seen that.

  “You are kind to suggest it, Lieutenant. I can watch the celebration through the interior ship sensors. Thus, I will be there in spirit. Someone should remain on watch, however, and I am the right candidate for the post.”

  Galyan had a point. They had won a battle, driving off the star cruisers. The warships of Fifth Fleet could go home for massive repairs. But they were still in a war zone. The starship had to be ready for anything.

  Realizing Victory was in safe hands with Galyan at the post, Valerie hurried through the hatch. She hurried for the cafeteria to join the others in a hard-earned celebration.

  The End

  To the Reader: Thanks! I hope you’ve enjoyed The Lost Command. If you liked the book and would like to see the series continue, please put up some stars and a review. Let new readers know what’s in store for them.

  —Vaughn Heppner

  If you enjoyed The Lost Command, you might also enjoy the Extinction Wars Series, starting with the first novel, Assault Troopers. Read on for an exciting excerpt.

  Assault Troopers

  (Extinction Wars 1)

  Prologue

  I remember the day it finally happened—the day an alien race made contact with humanity.

  The latest presidential campaign was already in full swing. Endless rivers of money flowed to advertisers and political slogans clogged the airwaves.

  As far as I can recall, no astronomer spotted the alien starship cruising through the solar system, passing Saturn, Jupiter, Mars and then parking in orbit around Earth. One minute there was nothing. The next, CNN, Fox News, every TV station on the planet, blurted out the amazing story of a real live UFO visitor.

  The vessel was mind-bogglingly big: one commentator said as huge as Rhode Island. It was as if someone had hollowed out one of the bigger asteroids and stuck engines in it. But this thing wasn’t an asteroid. It was metal, a construct: black, oval and with giant fins sticking out of it like an old ’57 Chevy.

  The political ads stopped airing as the TV stations played the alien starship twenty-four seven.

  I was stationed in Antarctica. My name was Creed, by the way, just Creed. I didn’t like my first name and had never used it. We sat glued before the TV, forgetting about the science experiments. According to what we watched, people by the thousands, millions maybe, aimed their backyard telescopes or binoculars at the vessel, and of course the military used radar.

  For thirty-seven hours the starship waited up there, as silent as the Sphinx, making the world increasingly nervous. Finally, the U.S. couldn’t resist doing something to prod the aliens into talking. They pulled out a mothballed shuttle and launched it into orbit. Who should pilot it but Mad Jack Creed, my father? My mom had divorced him years ago, but we’d kept in touch. He was one of the few people to visit me during my stint in prison.

  Mad Jack spoke into the shuttle camera, giving the world a running commentary as his craft approached the alien ship. It was amazing.

  I watched. The world watched. Maybe it would have been better if it had been a grainy image instead of pure HD. Mad Jack grinned out of the TV. He’d torn off the goofy astronaut’s headgear and put on his old Air Force cap with its chipped silver rocket pin on the bill, and he sported four days’ growth of beard.

  He’d flown F-18s in his day, a fighter jock with three confirmed kills. It was obvious he was enjoying the heck out of getting up in the air again. He shoved his face in the camera and told us the alien hovered 260 miles over Spain.

  The dimensions of the starship awed me as my dad approached it: like a flea nearing an elephant.

  My chest ached with pride for my old man. He had guts and he played this cool and collected. I know they must have asked for volunteers and he would have been the first in line.

  As Mad Jack talked, cameras showed the shuttle’s bay doors opening and a space arm unfolding, lifting a giant communications device. Computers began aiming the dish at the starship.

  The aliens had been quiet, continuing their Sphinx-like routine of inscrutability. Finally, however, they began to react.

  “Look,” my dad’s copilot said. “Something’s happening.”

  “Focus camera five,” Mad Jack said.

  I couldn’t sit still as the others watched. At first, I’d crouched in front of the TV, with my fists clenched. Now I strode back and forth behind the other sitting watchers, needing to move. None of my coworkers told me to sit down. They knew better.

  “What is that?” my dad’s copilot asked.

  That registered with me. I stared at the screen. I imagine everyone in the world stared into their TV or smart phone feed. They all saw a slot open on the starship.

  “It appears Mad Jack is making them react,” the TV commentator said.

  Without warning, a beam fired out of the starship, a ray of incandescent light, looking more like a sci-fi movie than reality.

  My dad had time to shout a single, angry profanity. Our TV picture froze for a moment and showed him hunched over his panel, staring out of the shuttle window. He looked as if he wanted to launch missiles in retaliation. I saw him. I saw the fighter glaring out of his eyes.

  Then there was nothing but old-fashioned blizzard-like static on the tube.

  The TV technicians worked fast. They switched to an open-mouthed commentator outside the Pentagon. The woman blinked several times in confusion until someone told her she was live.

  “The aliens dusted the shuttle,” I said.

  The others in our Antarctica shelter turned toward me.

  A cold hard knot of fury erupted in my chest. The aliens had killed my dad. A fierce sense of loss exploded in my stomach. I swayed, staggered back and sat hard on the floor. I stared slack-jawed, seeing nothing in particular.