Communication Failure: Volume 2 (Epic Failure Trilogy, Band 2) - Softcover

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Joe Zieja is an author with a long history of doing things that have almost nothing to do with writing at all. A graduate of the United States Air Force Academy, Joe dedicated over a decade of his life to wearing The Uniform, marching around in circles and shouting commands at people while in turn having commands shouted at him. It was both a great deal of fun and a great nuisance, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Joe’s also a commercial voiceover artist and a composer of music for video games and commercials. He’s probably interrupted your Spotify playlist at least once to encourage you to click on the banner below and isn’t the least bit upset that you ignored him.

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Communication Failure

We’re Invading

Alandra Keffoule’s heel whistled through the air before cracking into the side of the wooden training dummy, sending splinters raining to the floor all around her. The sound was satisfying, calming, soothing. With everything going on at that moment, she could have used any small measure of peace, or at least a couple of differential equations to solve. That always put her mind at ease.

It was no use, though. Not this time. Alandra was far too anxious. She’d read the intelligence reports so many times she could see the words floating around in her mind’s eye like pieces of a great puzzle. Even the tiniest recollection of what they contained brought a tingle of excitement with it for more than one reason. The ratio. The ratio.

The training room, empty except for her and a couple of disfigured training dummies, seemed to pulsate with excitement, mirroring the tightly bottled emotions she kept inside. This was one of seven hand-to-hand combat training rooms available on the Thelicosan ship Limiter, but she knew almost all of them were unoccupied. In the Thelicosan heyday, these rooms would have been filled with sweat-drenched Thelicosan warriors, frantically shaving away the dummies with kicks and punches as they rhythmically recited multiplication tables. It wasn’t so much an important part of their training regimen as it was the only way the mess halls got their toothpicks. The Thelicosan Council had some pretty unique restrictions on what it would send to deployed troops.

Now, however, the training rooms were about as empty as she had felt ever since she’d assumed command of the Colliders, the Thelicosan border fleet. But all that was going to change soon.

The ratio.

Crack. Another fresh batch of toothpicks scattered to the floor, courtesy of Alandra’s famous spinning back kick. A tendril of pain worked its way up the hamstring and across the small of her back, and she grimaced. Speaking of heydays, Alandra often felt like she was long past hers. If it hadn’t been for that battle injury, she’d still be in the F Sequence. They’d still call her the Tangential Tornado. She’d still be worth something.

Alandra shook the thoughts away, memories of them sewing the big zero on her uniform shattering like a wooden training dummy turning into toothpicks. Those days were behind her; Grand Marshal Alandra Keffoule was above brooding over the past like a child. Now was the time to focus on the future.

The intelligence reports came to her mind again, the detailed descriptions of the Meridan dilemma playing out like a theatrical experience. You could learn a lot about someone from intelligence reports; she’d spent almost all of her special operations career perusing dossiers chock-full of intelligence in order to get to know a target. But she’d never faced a target like this.

One point six one, she thought. It’s impossible.

So wrapped up in her reverie was she that she barely noticed Secretary Vilia Quinn storming into the room and storming over to her. Quinn’s version of storming was walking slightly more quickly than normal, but Alandra knew the signs that the bureaucrat was upset. Quinn was unlike Alandra in almost every way; her skin pale where Alandra’s was dark, her features hard and angular where Alandra’s were soft, her wits slow where Alandra’s were quick and deadly. And unlike electrostatic physics, in this case opposites did not attract.

“I finally found you,” Quinn said, even her voice measured and expressionless. When Alandra looked at her with her typical flat stare, Quinn narrowed her eyes. “Well? Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

Alandra looked at her as calmly as she could manage. Despite her total lack of personality, Secretary Quinn had a knack for making Alandra live on the very edge of self-control.

“Nothing I haven’t said already, Quinn, and I do hate repeating myself. You were in the briefing.”

In truth, Quinn hadn’t been in most of the briefing because Alandra hadn’t invited her. Afterward, Alandra had slipped away before the annoying civilian could ask any questions.

Quinn narrowed her icy blue eyes further, to the point where she actually looked like she might be sleeping. Alandra thought she had probably been pretty in her younger days, if she had ever worn anything other than loose-fitting pantsuits that went out of style back on Mars before the solar system collapsed. The bun she wore her hair in was so perfect, so unchanging, that Alandra had heard many whispers that Quinn was bald and wearing a wig. She’d also heard whispers that Quinn’s bun was some sort of secret weapon, but that just seemed absurd. Quinn couldn’t fight anything other than paperwork.

“I’m talking about flinging billions of credits’ worth of armed Thelicosan government property into Galactic space,” Quinn said, edging closer. “I can’t even begin to quote how many Thelicosan military statutes you’ve violated, not to mention endangering the Two Hundred Years (And Counting) Peace and the lives of everyone in the fleet.”

Alandra let Quinn go on. Quinn might have worked her way through the Thelicosan government over the last fifteen years, but ever since she’d been assigned as Council ambassador to Alandra’s fleet she’d been nothing but a thorn in her side. What Alandra wouldn’t give to treat Quinn to one of her famous spinning back kicks . . . but corporal discipline was only acceptable for military personnel, which Quinn was not.

“Once again,” Alandra said, cutting Quinn off in the middle of her nonsensical and ill-informed rant, “I’ll remind you that while they might have thought you quite the genius in the Schvink local office, you don’t know anything about military tactics. There was a clear and present danger to Thelicosan sovereignty, according to the reports transmitted by the late Mr. McSchmidt.”

Quinn’s eyes opened wide this time. “What in the name of Science are you talking about? Is that what the briefing was about?” The secretary had arrived too late for the initial details. “A clear and present danger? Those reports said their fleet was in total chaos. What threat could the Galactics possibly pose to our sovereignty?”

“Oh please,” Alandra said. “The Pythagorean WarI was centuries ago; call them Meridans, already.”

“Excuse me for adhering to the foreign policy standards of my government,” Quinn said, glaring. “Did you even send a message back to the Central Council? Did they approve this action via a report submitted through the Action Committee and then validated by a two-thirds vote before being routed back to the Military Affairs Committee?”

For a response, Alandra created a few more toothpicks.

Quinn gaped. “They didn’t, did they? You’re acting completely on your own!” She paused for a moment. “I’ll bet you didn’t even complete Section One Point Four in its entirety. It says clearly in box one that you are to—”

“I am not acting alone,” Alandra said. “Commodore Zergan and I talked this over very thoroughly and reviewed the...