This month’s prompt was “Are You Ready?” So, I cheated a bit. What I entered was a slightly edited piece from my alternate-reality novel Mit-Ro-Don. The work selected is from chapter 17 - THE END, which it most certainly was not. There are a total of 23 chapters in the novel.

Today, I give you the year 1974, where all the nations of the planet Earth have allied themselves with the genial alien race of Mit-Ro-Don against the aggressions of the totalitarian alien race of Chit-Chit-Kunak. This particular day was a quiet day aboard the battleship Mit-Ro-Miglon, just before the end of the world as we knew it. It's okay. I had six more chapters in which to set repairs.

Are You Ready . . . ?
998 words | By Me

“How ’bout a game of chess?”

I smiled at the challenge. “You got it, bro. Loser cooks dinner?”

“Deal.” Ronny Henderson reached under the coffee table for the gameboard. “Uh, you better call Maria. Let her know?”

“Yeah, right.” I activated my brother-in-law’s phone, and the pretty, ever bright face of my Maria Lorenzini appeared on the screen. “Hello, lovely.”

“Mi amore,” she cooed her happy reply with a sparkling smile.

I returned her smile with ease. “Dinner’s in 40 minutes. We’re eating next door.”

“Hey, hey,” Ronny playfully groused. “Don’t be countin’ ’em just yet.”

“Oh-ho!” Hearing Ronny’s rebuke, Maria gave me a severe nod and a slight wink. She knew what was up. “I don’t think he wants to cook,” she chuckled. “Will you talk with me while I get ready?”

“Mm, I may be distracted. I have a game of chess to win.”

Her grin shined. “Well, I have to shower anyway. I’ll be over in just a couple…”

The white lights of the room suddenly dimmed and were quickly accompanied with the dull, steady flash of crimson. I could hear the ship-wide klaxon sounding through the outer door. I looked at Ronny.

“Hell,” he muttered, taking up his equipment belt from an otherwise vacant corner of the room. I had my reserve belt aboard the Falcon II. My sister Terry ran in from the hallway and flew firmly into her husband’s embrace.

I stood where I was. “Goldstream,” I commanded, tapping the access override pad. Maria’s picture was reduced to a small square at the top right of the screen, and a very busy Chief Liaison Officer Jerry Goldstream appeared in the main field of view.

“Not now, Jim!” he shouted. “Full alert! Report for launch, now!”

“I’m gone!” I shouted back. “Maria!” I barked, closing the call to Jerry.

“Yes, Giacomo!”

“I love you.”

“You know I love you!” She held back the tears, but she was crying nonetheless, her fears shadowing her bright eyes.

“Don’t, please. Nothing will happen.”

She sat a bit straighter and smiled very bravely at me. “God go with you, my love,” she whispered.

“And stay here with you,” I replied. Giving a mirror to her smile, I canceled the call.

Dashing for the apartment’s elevator, I pushed Ronny in ahead of me. As the door closed, I could see Terry pulling on her own equipment belt. She and Maria would be at their posts in a matter of seconds.

The doors parted, and I ran down the red flashing corridor toward the flight deck. Coming from our last elevator, I charged into the launch bay, with Ronny hot on my heels. I reached into the cockpit, activating my navcom and grabbing my belt. A large force appeared at the limits of my dashboard scan, moving in fast. We were the first to arrive, but all were present within 30 seconds. Buckling my belt, I jerked the umbilical from the nose of the Falcon II and let it clatter to the deck.

“Mount up!” I shouted, grabbing for my helmet. “Karen!” I called into the radio.

“All present, Jim!” Staff Sergeant Karen Saunders was quick to respond from the lower deck. “Preparing now for launch!”

Noticing a movement, I glanced over at my navcom screen, and my blood ran cold. I watched the shadowy approach of the giant enemy vessel just beyond the bay doors. I activated my squadron net.

“Secure yourselves!” I ordered, gripping firmly to the Falcon’s forward canard. “Shields, now!”

There was a blinding flash of an explosion, and the bay doors to launch decks Alpha and Bravo, along with a large chunk of the separating floor, were gone. Standing within the gravity field of the bay floor, I looked around the sudden vacuum of the big room. My squad was okay, each secure within their own personal, impenetrable bubbles. They were confused, surprised, but unharmed.

“Don’t panic,” I called. “We’re okay. Karen, are you accounted for?”

“Affirm!” she replied, slightly breathless. “We’re all here, Chief!”

I looked out to space and could see the huge warcraft crossing Saturn’s crescent. It was the same Dreadnaught that had just blown the launch bay doors from the Mit-Ro-Miglon, now swinging around and bearing down for another pass.

“All right! Mount up!” I called. I caught Ronny’s glance. “It’s time for business,” I growled to him.

I sealed my canopy. Once my atmosphere had cycled, I released my bodyshield and activated the onboard radio for instructions.

“Comm-Aux three,” I directed, hearing the click of my radio’s compliance as it switched over to the command net. “Bravo-Niner-Five,” I identified. “Patch me through to Jerry Goldstream.”

“I’m here, Jim! Earth!” The man sounded exhausted. “Get there now! It’s another attack!”

“All fliers, slave to primary command!” I told my people.

I entered the proffered course to my navcom, and in double-wedge formation, my squadron belted its way from the launch bays and toward the inner system. I took a high arc over Mars and the Asteroid Belt, with widcos-102 marking us an Earth orbit in 48 seconds. There, I released my squadron and we met them, 288 of the 100-mile-long Dreadnoughts crowding dear Mother Earth. It was apparent none of them had yet fired on the planet.

“Okay, spread wide,” I instructed, checking my navcom for target selection. “This one’s mine.”

I ripped the Falcon II from the fanning formation and dove headlong into one of the nearest Dreadnoughts. Launching one of my few smart bombs, I watched as the tiny dart sped away, vanishing into the prow of the huge destroyer. The ship expanded and was no more, reduced to a blazing splatter of atomized alloys and a churning expanse of quickly burning gasses.

The enemy’s retaliation was immediate, with literally tens of thousands of Chit-Chit-Kunaket’é fighters being ejected from each of the mighty Dreadnoughts. It was like walking through Saigon Market Street at high noon and trying to count the flies — a losing battle from the start.

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