Free The Clone Redemption by Steven L. Kent Page A

“We cannot track those pods. How would the aliens track them?”
    Yamashiro ignored the question, and the video feed resumed with Illych telling his men to take positions. When Humble spun around to fire rounds at the silo, a small window appeared in a corner of the screen. The window showed the scene through the late Chief Petty Officer Humble’s eyes as his bullets exploded against the silo’s icy surface.
    â€œI wish he had tried a laser and a particle beam as well,” said Takeda Gunpei, the only captain with an engineering background.
    Captain Miyamoto said, “Good point. You should tell him if you see him.” They all knew that the SEALs did not return; but Miyamoto Genyo was a hard-ass, an old-style Japanese military man who never smiled and had no sympathy for weakness. “You may soon get your chance.”
    The feed showed the globe of light with creatures forming inside it and the ion curtain forming across the sky. The transmission ended, but the video feed continued. The screen showed the planet as seen from the stealth transport that launched the pods.
    The image on the screen looked like a barren planet partially dipped in white gold.
    â€œThe ‘sleeving’ process went quickly,” said Takeda as he watched the shiny skin move across the atmosphere.
    A jolt ran across the planet, and the ion curtain dissolved, revealing a partially imploded planet. A flat and fiery dent showed on the otherwise-iron-colored globe. With the planet’s symmetry broken, it looked as though the stress of its own rotation might cause it to come apart. “The kage no yasha detonated their ejector pods,” said Miyamoto, a smile of admiration on his face. “I am glad we gave them a traditional farewell.”
    Miyamoto was the captain of the Onoda , a battleship named after a Japanese soldier who fought in the Second World War. At the end of the war, Onoda hid in the jungles of the Philippines for twenty-nine years rather than surrender. Like the man for whom his ship was named, Miyamoto held those who died in battle in high regard.
    â€œSo we have destroyed an alien way station on an obscure planet. What have we learned?” asked Yamashiro.
    â€œWe know they can detect the pods,” said Takahashi Hironobu, captain of the Sakura . Takahashi was Yamashiro’s son-in-law.
    Yamashiro grunted, a sound that might have signaled agreement or disgust. “We have been searching their galaxy for nearly three years. Why has it taken the aliens so long to detect us?”
    â€œThey don’t have a navy,” said Captain Yokoi. As the youngest of the ships’ captains, he generally remained quiet during staff meetings, but this time he spoke up. “Maybe they did not view us as a threat because we were in open space.”
    â€œWe have entered their solar system. They won’t ignore us anymore,” said Miyamoto.
    Though he seldom agreed with the “old man,” Takahashi agreed with Miyamoto this time. He said, “If they detected the SEALs, they must know we are here as well.”
    Admiral Yamashiro’s manner remained gruff, even when answering his son-in-law. He said, “That is a possibility. What do you suggest?”
    â€œWe must proceed with caution. They may attack at any time,” said Takahashi.
    Two of the other captains, Yokoi and Takeda, agreed. Looking around the table, Takahashi could see it in their expressions and their posture. Takeda sat perfectly erect, an excited expression on his face. Captain Yokoi turned toward Takahashi and gave him a furtive nod.
    â€œCautious, yes, but not timid like frightened mice,” growled Miyamoto. The oldest of the ships’ captains, he often harped about honor and the Japanese way.
    Takahashi sighed. Three of the four captains agreed, but democracy did not exist in the Japanese Fleet. Admiral Yamashiro placed more weight on Miyamoto’s opinion than the opinions of any other