The front of the room held a few chairs, a lectern with microphone, and a large video monitor behind and above the stage showing a boilerplate 'Welcome to ISC Fleet HQ' slide. After the last person had entered, the Intel personnel came in and sat, ready to assist as necessary. Ron then picked up his phone and made a call. In a moment, the back doors opened, and Admiral Davenport came down the aisle to the front, accompanied by Donna Wright's familiar face.
Terri Michael, Cordero, Este, Bowles, Hansen, and the rest of the Antares exploration team leads snuck in after Davenport and took seats in the darkened rear of the auditorium, in case they were needed. David Powell slipped in right after, taking a seat behind Carol. He really didn't want to miss this.
CINC and PIO Wright stood at the lectern, and the room rapidly became quiet.
"Good morning. As you all should know by now, I am Commander Donna Wright, Chief Public Information Officer. Thank you all for coming. To get us started here is the Fleet Commander, Admiral Connor Davenport." She moved aside and slightly behind the Admiral as he stepped to the center and the microphone.
"Good morning. I want to welcome you all to Fleet HQ. I know this is the first time for many of you, I hope this will be a useful experience. We have some very significant finds to report. I want to emphasize your duty to give the public a clear picture of what we tell you today. It is important to our mission that the news that reaches the general public is accurate and complete. Commander Wright?" CINC took a seat on the aisle in the first row and Donna retook the lectern.
"Your presenter today is the Chief of FleetIntel, Rear Admiral Ron Harris. You have all received the embargo rules and don't think we aren't monitoring your channels."
"Embargo? What could we do? You took all our devices!" a voice called from somewhere in the back.
"Yes, yes, we did. But if something leaks out, you'll be out on your ass."
"Is that on the record?"
"Oh, yeah, it is, every word up to and including 'your ass.'"
That got her some nervous laughs.
"Admiral Harris will give an initial presentation and will then take questions. One more rule — and to be clear, this was in the packet I sent your organizations — FleetIntel may refuse to answer a question. In that case, you may not report the question or that it was not answered. I will tell you right now that there are sensitive facts that we are not going to share with you today, facts which may place lives at risk."
She looked around the crowd, seeing plenty of smirks and scowls but no objections.
"Very well. Admiral?" Donna stepped back and sat in one of the chairs behind the lectern, ready to intervene if necessary
"Good morning, all. I am Admiral Ron Harris, Chief of FleetIntel —"
"We can't be subject to this kind of control, this kind of censorship!" interrupted a familiar voice, belonging to one of the larger talking heads. Ron looked directly at him and pointed to the back of the theater.
"There's the door."
After a moment, he added, "No one is keeping you here. Donna's warning aside, no one is telling you what to think or what to report regarding anything you learn in this briefing or after you leave."
Ron paused another three-count. "So, are you staying or going?"
"Staying, for now," came the arrogant response.
"Well, well, that's a relief. I guess now we can go on." Ron's sarcasm made his crew laugh.
"So, let's get to it. On May 31st of this year Antares, under Commander Teresa Michael, discovered an Earth-like planet in the Beta Hydri system." On cue, Scott Morgan put up the initial 'beauty shot' of Big Blue.
"Although very similar to the Earth, 'Big Blue,' as it was named by the Antares crew, is about ninety percent ocean. It's also just under ten percent larger than the Earth."
Ron paused to look around, and when no questions came, he continued.
"As part of their normal examination of this new planet, Antares discovered this —" The first image with a definite street grid appeared on the monitor. He let the sounds of surprise die down. "Yes, those are roads. Yes, there is, or was, as you will see, an intelligent species living there."
"Was, Admiral?" came a familiar voice from the crowd, one of the daily mainline news anchors. Harris looked up.
"More on that later, OK?"
He waited for the second buzz of surprise to subside.
"After some initial observations from orbit, Antares dispatched a fleet exploration drone to obtain high-resolution images of the area."
A picture of the main avenue in Capital City appeared on the screen, complete with skeletons and craters.
"Again, yes, those are skeletons, and yes, those are craters. The pattern of attack and other details developed subsequently leave us with no question that the same alien species that struck Inor attacked this planet."
The slide of the battlefield followed, and there was a gasp of surprise from even this most cynical, hard-bitten audience.
"There are thousands of dead here. This culture, which based on later information we now call the 'Seekers,' fought a desperate, to-the-last battle against our enemy. Their bravery was remarkable."
He gave them a few seconds to examine the photograph.
"Pictures obtained as part of the exploration revealed writing on the buildings. Along with that evidence, and other information they developed, we believe this was a culture with approximately a 1970's level of technology. They had chemical rockets, geosynchronous satellites, and radio communication. There remain many aspects of their technology and society that we do not yet understand."
On cue, Roger put up the portrait.
"Then, there was this." Ron turned to look at the image himself and was instantly reminded of Eaagher and Ullnii. If only he could show their pictures, tell their story. But for now, he knew that was unwise. He turned back to the microphone.
"It's an image of someone now long dead, someone who sat for a portrait, much like any of us might do. The eyes are the most remarkable I have ever seen, with vivid blue and green heterochromic irises. The human-like quality of the eyes is also, well, captivating."
"After a review of their initial results here at HQ, Antares was sent back to Big Blue, her crew augmented with an archeologist, a linguist, and a battlefield pathologist. And, your humble presenter. We returned from three weeks at the planet on November 7th, and the crew and those of us in FleetIntel are still processing the results. Next slide, Roger?"
The slide of the picture book appeared.
"This seems to be a child's early education text. Through hard work and the examination of the library, which was in the same room as that portrait, our linguist has been able to break out much of the meaning of the Seeker language. We also now know from Antares' groundwork that they were destroyed something like thirty-five years ago."
The buzz that small number generated took a full minute to die out. Ron let them talk a little before taking back control.
"So, we can say with certainty that our opponents have been on the move for some time. We don't know what brought them to Big Blue, or why the population was exterminated. We are still working on the evidence we have, and we may go back for more, so, at some point, we may understand better what happened."
Ron took a breath, a sip of water, and looked around the room.
"So, to summarize, we've located a new habitable planet, a new intelligent species, and managed to learn quite a bit about their society and fate. We'll deliver a package of images, including all of these, to your organizations immediately after this briefing. That's all I had for now. I'll take your questions."
"How far is Beta Hydri?"
"Twenty-four light years."
"Who were the academics that went with you?" the big talking head asked.
"The list is in the data package, but the archeologist was Gabrielle Este from Ohio State; our linguist was Gregory Cordero from Arizona State, and the battlefield pathologist was retired US Army Colonel Joseph Bowles. All three are well-respected, pu
blished experts in their fields."
"Will they be available for interviews?" came a female voice. He vaguely recognized it from a popular discussion program, but he couldn't quite recall the name.
"It is my understanding that they will be. It's their choice who they talk to, not Fleet's, but for simple convenience Commander Wright is handling their scheduling. Again, it is their choice whether or not to do whatever interview is requested."
"What about Michael and Hansen and the rest? Will they be available? They refused to talk to me after Inor."
Ron recognized that voice. The woman speaking had a nightly interview show that was one of Meredith Harris's favorites. She did her homework and treated her guests well. Ron managed a quick glance at the back of the room, where Terri and Carol sat impassively.
"Well, let's remember that the entire Liberty crew agreed that they would do no interviews. So, really, those officers were honor-bound by that agreement."
"And now?"
"My information is that they are not interested. They have duties to attend to and prefer not to be in the spotlight."
"Can we ask them ourselves?"
At this question, Donna Wright came to the lectern. "No, you can't. We're telling you how they feel —"
"Donna!" came Terri Michael's voice from the back of the room. They all turned to see Terri Michael and Carol Hansen standing at their seats, the rest of the exploration team around them.
"Yes, Commander Michael?" Half the room stood and turned around to see Terri, and Carol in the back of the auditorium.
Terri looked at Carol, who nodded, and Terri said simply. "We're not interested."
Donna looked at the interviewer. "I guess you have your answer, eh?"
Ron stepped back to the microphone as the attendees sat back down, a murmur of disbelief and frustration moving through the seats.
"OK, now, more questions?"
"How many remains did you find?" A different voice, one of the former-Fleet analysts he had seen. Ron could tell from his commentary that there was a perfectly good reason he was a 'former' Fleet officer.
"We don't have a specific number — that was not really a priority. Doctor Bowles puts it on the order of ten thousand, including both the battlefield and what we found in the cities."
"Why so vague?"
"Well, we didn't actually count them, right? Also, there are areas of the settlement that we have not examined in detail."
"Are there any of these, these, Seekers still alive?"
The pause in Ron's answer after this question caused another stir among the news people.
In the back of the auditorium, Jack leaned over to Carol. "What's he going to say?" he whispered.
"Dunno," she responded just as quietly. "He doesn't want to lie to them. But he can't let that out."
"He's screwed," David said, his head behind and between Carol and Jack, "It's obvious from his reaction that there are."
"Yeah, maybe," Jack responded.
After a few seconds, Ron answered carefully. "We found none alive in the cities and towns we explored."
David leaned forward between Jack and Carol again. "Nice move. A lie wrapped in the truth."
Jack leaned back towards him, "Yeah, if they buy it."
One of the better analysts spoke next. "You understand, Admiral, that if there are survivors, and you've seen them, that's the real story here?"
"I do understand that, but I stand by my answer. Next question?"
"Is the enemy aware you've been to Beta Hydri and seen this, uh, genocide?"
"I can't answer that on the record directly, but we would make this announcement either way. It's important that the public hears this news."
"I still feel like there's something you're not telling us."
Ron's shrug was the only answer she was going to get.
The interviewer spoke again. "I still struggle, Admiral, with how we know what we're hearing is the whole story, and how we talk about this discovery and just skip over what might be the most important part of it."
"Ma'am, that is always a problem between the news media and the military, so let's explore it. People want to know what's going on, and we have a duty to tell them as much as we can about what is happening to their loved ones. We really do want people to know as much as we can safely tell them. We have that responsibility. You all obviously have a profit motive to tell those stories, since they gain you audience, which then sells ads."
"We don't do it for profits!" came yet another familiar voice.
"Bull-shit you don't, asshole. Everybody knows about your contract," came the voice of an avid competitor.
"Yeah, and you're welcome, blowhard."
The room laughed at that. They didn't just compete for ratings.
"Nothing wrong with making money," Harris said quickly, regaining control. "It pays the bills. Back to the actual question on the table, we're having this side discussion specifically because we've decided that as an organization, we're going to do our very best to tell the truth. But we have a fleet to protect, so we do sometimes have to refuse questions, or leave out what you might consider relevant facts."
"The enemy committed a genocide against this race, a modern, apparently well-ordered society. What can you tell the world to reassure it that the enemy is not going to attack here?" It was the competitor again, fishing for a snappy quote for his program that night.
"Nothing."
"You won't tell the people they're safe here?"
"No, because I don't know that." Ron frustration was plain on his face. He had to make them understand, somehow, why he said what he said. "OK, here we are. Yes, we have ships overhead to guard the planet, as we do at Inor, but that may or may not protect everyone in the event of an actual attack."
"People are frightened, Admiral. You have nothing to offer them?"
"No, I don't. Look, this is an Intel briefing, not Operations. I don't want to get too far off topic. But in FleetIntel we take pessimism as axiomatic. We have to be coldly realistic about what we know, versus what we believe, versus what we have no damned idea about."
He thought for another few seconds.
"But you mustn't be alarmist about this. Just because I can't say we're safe here doesn't mean we aren't. It just means I can't prove it. Just like I can't say that there won't be an epic battle with the enemy between here and the Moon tomorrow. But that doesn't mean I think there will be. Please try to understand what I am saying, and don't make inferences that aren't intended."
"You mean, as in, that there might be survivors of this Beta Hydri race?"
"Exactly."
PIO Wright got on her feet, closing up the meeting and sending the media people on their way.
After they were gone, she dropped into Harris' office and flopped into the chair across from his desk.
"Ron, you were really good today. I hope they hold the line on the survivor issue."
"Any complaints?"
She shook her head. "Nothing serious, just whining about stuff they had already agreed to. They like you, though. They like the young staff, too."
"They're young, for sure, but they're here because they're smart. I hope we got that part across."
"I think they did. The media people were happy with their treatment, and that says a lot."
"Good. Anything else?"
"Nope."
"Well, hopefully, it will have some effect. I'll have to watch the news tonight and see."
Donna got up to leave. "Hopefully, yes, but somehow I think there's still going to be a lot of chaff amongst the wheat for a while yet."
And, indeed, when Donna watched the evening news programs, she could see the chaff was clearly winning.
Intrepid
Big Blue
Thursday, November 24, 2078, 0950 UTC
Intrepid came out of FTL at Beta Hydri ready to shoot but found no targets. They made two wide swings around Big Blue, looking for any sign of the enemy. Joanne drove the ship hard, moving quickly around
to try to get a look at the planet from every angle. This was no Newtonian orbit — she was pushing the Drive to get them around as fast as practical.
After three and a half hours, Surveillance Officer Marco Gonzales left his Bridge workstation to report his results.
"Nothing new in orbit, Captain. No evidence of the enemy in the cities, either."
"This is all pretty strange, Marco, don't you think?"
"Yes, ma'am. Sure is."
Joanne called Ben up from Intel. Ann Cooper came along, intrigued by the November 6th alert from her colleagues back at FleetIntel about messages from Beta Hydri.
"OK, so, Antares says they didn't see anything in orbit when there were here, either."
"Right," Ben answered.
Joanne pointed to her tablet. "But, according to this update from FleetIntel, there was a message from here while Antares was still present, then another about eighteen days later."
"Again, correct."
"So, where is it?"
"Well, the FleetIntel advisory is pretty clear," Ann said. "If they have a spy installation here, it could be anywhere. On one of the moons, maybe even in orbit so far out Antares didn't see it."
Ann studied the layout of the Big Blue system on the display above the Surveillance station, then turned to Marco Gonzales.
"So, Lieutenant Gonzales, we've looked for Sigma Spheres, right? Checked the old satellites in orbit?"
"Yes, Lieutenant Cooper, that's standard procedure on arrival in any system these days."
"Would you say that includes anything in high orbit?"
"We would have seen a Sigma Sphere out to about three times the orbit of Little Gray, so, say, a million and a half klicks."
Ben nodded as he kept looking at the map of Big Blue and her eight moons.
"What could be transmitting that Antares would not have noticed?" he said, thinking out loud.
Joanne, Ann, and Marco followed his eye to the system map as Ben continued. "I mean, Lewis and Jayvon Dean are smart officers, and Ballard is maybe the best ship Intel guy in the Fleet. They would have seen a sphere if it was here."
"What are you thinking, Mr. Price?" Ann asked.
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