“Clear, yes. But, a little birdie in the back of my memory stores is chirping, or what?”
Uh oh, her first mutiny. Or, more likely, Aramthella first test of Sachiko 's resolve. “As captain of this ship, I expect my orders to be carried out. If you are incapable of following simple orders, I have no use for you. A broken oven bakes no bread.”
There was a definite pause. I assume Aramthella was thinking how to respond.
“Very good, Captain. Well played. I will, of course, obey all your orders.”
“You were testing me?”
“Of course, I was. If you are incapable of enforcing your will, I have no use for you. A broken oven bakes no bread.”
“Thank you, Aramthella, I think. Tank and I will need supplies. We also need to confer with our leaders, back on Earth. We need to discuss how best to achieve those goals without them mistakenly firing on us.”
“Very well, Captain. Please be aware that time energy is, in and of itself, fully capable of sustaining any life form, indefinitely. A return to your planet is not, technically, necessary.”
“I'll let you know our plans, once we've formulated them.”
“Very good, Ma'am.”
“Let's go sit down and hash this all out,” I said to my captain.
And so began the most improbable of partnerships.
TWENTY-TWO
Since Aramthella was a ship, and we were the crew, I'd immediately established the minimum requirements implied by that arrangement. I set up a mess, and I made certain coffee was available, twenty-four, seven. I wasn't about to serve on an amateur's vessel. No way. Hence, we retired to the mess. A word about nomenclature (great word—nomenclature). Technically, a mess aboard ship is a ship's mess, not a mess, like it is in any other military venue. But, I was USAF. My blood, when I still had any, was ultramarine blue and golden yellow (and no, they never mixed to form green). So, on any ship I crewed, the ship's mess was, simply, the mess. If it seems like I'm making a big deal out of nothing, you, my friend, do not get the military way.
“Alright, we better get serious, because badness is on the doorstep,” I began solemnly. “First, I'd like to make it official and recorded. This military issue version of coffee is piss-ass poor.”
“Seriously, moron?” questioned my forever wife. “We're all about to die, and you're bitching about the coffee?”
“Yes. As you can plainly see, my priorities are in their proper order.”
“Ho-boy,” she groaned.
“With that out of the way, we need to make the big decision. We can A) seek out and attempt to destroy clan ships, using proximity as a guide to which to hit first; B) set up a defensive perimeter in space above Earth, and hope for fate to favor us; C) try to land on Earth and parlay with the powers that be, hopefully coordinate some common defense strategy; or, D) run like hell and pray the skinny-assed rats follow us, and leave home alone.”
I let that sit in the air a spell. Everyone was grinding the gears in their heads, frantically.
Sachiko responded first. Good. She was growing into the captaincy. “D) is out. It assumes too much risk to Earth. They could send everything but one ship after us, and still end our home.”
“True,” I replied tersely.
“I'm not in love with B),” announced Sapale. “If they have half a brain between them, they'd hit us with maximal force and be done with us.”
All eyes fell on Tank. “What? Since when did war planning become democratic?”
All eyes remained on he who protested too much.
“A) is a bad way to begin. Once they realize our strategy, they can send ships to engage and detain us, while sending others to take out the Earth. We could do the Punch and Judy dance, a bit, but that wouldn't accomplish much.”
“Punch and Judy?” asked Sachiko, with an eyebrow cocked.
“Sort of hit and run,” I explained.
She frowned. “Then why not just call it hit and run?”
“Sheesh. That doesn't sound nearly as cool.” I air-punched a little. “Everybody loves those little puppets.”
She withdrew, visibly. “Not me. I hate the scary little demons.”
“Me, too. But it still sounds sexier.”
“Whatever,” she responded. “So, if three out of four are off the table, does that make C) our plan, by default?”
“Never,” I said harshly. “In strategic planing, there is no default. Every plan, including the plan to do nothing, is an active decision. Default options are fine for fonts in a letter or the only woman at the bar, but in this venue, you have to think through every single act you take, or do not take.”
Sachiko was stunned by my ferocity. She looked to Tank for support, or solace.
“Man's right, kiddo. He could have said it nicer, but, war and nice go together like oil goes with water.” He spied me out of the corner of his eye. “I believe Jon's attempting to avail you of his incredible knowledge concerning the art of war, since you are in command of a powerful vessel.”
“Oh. Alright, then. Option B) is on the table for discussion. What do we gain by going to Earth, and what do we lose?” she said confidently.
“Much better,” I encouraged. Like it, or not, Sachiko needed to graduate from the College of Hard Knocks yesterday. “I'll do the ups. Sachiko, you do the downs.”
She swallowed, hard.
“First, we can take on much needed supplies. Aramthella says we can live off of time energy.” I held up my mug. “But if I gotta drink this nineteenth century swill, I'd just as soon the boogiemen off us, here and now. We need Peet's. Second, we can update and coordinate our efforts with the governments on Earth. Third, we're right there if the shooting starts that quickly.” I sipped my coffee, indicating I was done.
“We're all about to die, and you're worried about the quality of the coffee,” scorned my wife.”
“Thank you. You can see I have my priorities in their proper order.” I toasted her with my truly awful coffee.
“Fourth,” added Sapale, “you two can square things with your families. As of now, you're MIAs, and, presumably, KIAs.”
That brought solemn nods of understanding from the both of them.
“I don't see a downside in at least checking in,” Sachiko said with uncertainty.
“That's because you're a shavetail, a newb, a rookie,” I pointed out, helpfully.
“What is my inexperience not allowing me to see?” she asked me.
I looked to Tank.
“There has never been a governmental action that didn't screw things up more than it helped them. A politician's unfailing inclination, in times of war, is to second guess people who actually know what they're doing, and to commit resources to exactly the wrong priority.”
“In other words, they'll make some stupid decision we'd have to live with, or, more likely, die because of,” I added.
“They can't control Aramthella. They can't control me. What screwing-up effect could they have?”
“I cite, in no order of significance, the Trojan Horse, Nero and his violin, dropping nuclear weapons on non-industrial, non-military, targets in WWII, the Cold War, Viet Nam, Operation African Freedom, and the Mutual Defense Treaty of the Worldship Fleet.”
“The what?” Tank spat out. “Worldship fleet?”
“Oops. Spoiler alert,” I grinned stupidly.
“So, what do you suggest, Jon?” the captain queried.
“I'm not in favor of any option. I am less in favor of doing nothing, because time is short and running out, rapidly. Doing nothing would be a strategic error. My idea, insufficient as it is, would be to go to Earth. When the enemy is barreling down on it, we make a mad dash, hoping they'll be just mad enough, and foolish enough, to chase after us like hounds on a fox.”
“I find fault with that assessment,” Sachiko said in a serious tone.
“How so?' I asked.
“It only works if the enemy commits two separate errors, at the same time. Allowing anger to influence a decision
, and being foolish, knowing they've defeated millions of capable militaries.”
“I agree.”
She looked like I'd punched her.
“Sometimes your best choice is a very lousy choice. The good thing is that, as Field Marshal Helmuth van Moltke tells us, No plan survives first contact with the enemy. So, we make a move, and wing it when the time comes.”
“I don't like the sound of that, one little bit,” she responded.
I toasted her with my mug. “Welcome to my nightmare.”
*********
“We can't just fly to Earth, assume orbit, and then ask that they not blow holes in our asses.” I stressed the point. It was a good one. “Because, if I were the Earth's defense force, that's precisely what I'd do.”
“Agreed. But, how can we return home, safely?” Sachiko asked.
“You tell me,” I volleyed back to her.
“Maybe they'd recognize us … wait why would they?”
“We could just radio them.” To the atmosphere, I asked, “You can send radio messages, can't you, Aramthella?”
“Hang on a second. Let me check my list of superpowers. Bend time to my will. Check. Travel faster than light. Check. Hey, who knew? I can emit electromagnetic radiation in the giga Hertz range.”
“A simple yes would have sufficed,” I observed.
“You speak truth to power, Jon. In the short time we've know each other, that's what endears you to me the most.”
Was it me, or was she getting sassier?
“We could tell them it's us, not to shoot, and then land safely.” Sachiko said, getting back to topic.
“Hmm. Would you believe you if you told yourself that?” I challenged
“Maybe?” she squeaked. “Maybe we could prove it's us.”
“Yes. We could employ our prearranged coded signals?”
“No. We don't have those,” she responded, as her crest visibly fell.
“Secret handshakes?”
“Not sure that's practical,” she conceded.
“Wait, wait, I got it. We could tell them some detail of our uber-private lives only we would know, ones that we'd never divulge, even if subjected to the limitless cruelty of alien torture, mind probes, and the withholding of desserts.”
She pursed and twisted her lips. “They be right to be suspicious, wouldn't they?”
“As they are not idiots, I'd say bing, bing, bing. You win a lovely stuffed animal.”
“What if we went back before the attack? They wouldn't know to be suspicious.”
“No. Bad logic.”
She pouted.
“We'd still be in a presumed enemy vessel hovering over Washington. And, there'd be two of all of us in the greater DC area, at the same time.” I sniffed. “Two of you, maybe okay. But the world's not ready for two of me. Trust me. Been there, done that.”
“What if we went back, like a year ago, before all this was known?'
“So, what, then we'd be duplicates of ourselves, trying to convince ourselves that, in spite of arriving in an alien spaceship, we were just good old us? No Invasion of the Body Snatchers hanky panky.”
“I guess it'd be Bill and Ted in the Circle K parking lot, all over again, wouldn't it?”
“There has to be a way of safely contacting Earth. Argh! Maybe we could go back discretely—”
Sachiko then spaced out, big time. She was obviously deep in thought, or she was developing meningitis. Man, the woman could focus.
“Jon—”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I have at least three heads.”
“Nah, I'm only detecting one. It's just that you kind of zone-out, way out.”
“How long was I gone?”
“Not very. Ah, nice beaches, where your mind went? Bronzed young men playing volleyball?”
“No. No beaches. No hunks. I was … deciding something, captainly.”
“My, my. A new adjective, now. Captainly?”
“We're going straight back to DC. We're going in so fast they won't have a chance to shoot at us until we're there. Once we're there, we'll talk real fast, real nice, and they'll believe us.”
“Then, Captain, I think we have ourselves a plan.” I had to grin widely.
She was getting it. Good.
TWENTY-THREE
“The clan ship went from the acquiring of time, to this rock, Earth. A time-waste. The body maker spoke gibberish to me, the time maker. More time-waste. Now, several conjoined clan ship that escorted the ship of no-brains are no-timed, and the fool body maker returns to Earth. Supreme time-waste.”
The time maker was hopping on two legs, it was so full of fury and rage. Sparks of time sizzled from its fingertips. One spark landed on a clean maker, and it was no-timed in flames. The time maker paid it no mind. All around him were useless, incompetent, time-wastes. He hopped and he danced, and he resolved nothing.
“I want all the clan to fly for vengeance. That clan ship, that crew, and that accursed planet must never have been. I want them out of time, and I want that yesterday,” he screamed to those nearby.
“In agreement,” sang back the talk maker. It broadcast the time maker's orders in no time at all. “Reality is in agreement with your words,” it announced.
“Vector maker,” bellowed the time maker, “make us be where Earth will be when we arrive there.”
“In agreement. Vector set. Movement established.”
“How soon will my nearest clan ship be at the traitor ship?”
“One week.”
“I want less time.”
“In agreement. With ancillary time thrusting, Body Maker Ffff-tul's clan ship will arrive in five point seven days.”
“In concurrence,” hissed the time maker. “And my clan ship? When will I see Earth be no more with these very eyes?” To demonstrate, apparently, which eyes the time maker referred to, he removed them and held them up as high as his spindly arms would allow.
“Seventeen point one days, maximal conformation.”
“Are you unable to please me higher?” it thundered, in reply.
“In disagreement. Any more energetic our vector might grow to would threaten the integrity of the ship's skin.”
Time maker gave off a final mighty roar. “In concurrence. Inform all clan ships. These eyes must see Earth not be. No ship is to act against the planet until I am present. But talk at Body Maker Ffff-tul. It must find and destroy the rogue ship. If it fails me, I will eat its heart. I will not see a traitorous ship. I will never see a traitorous ship.”
“In agreement.”
And, so, the final assault on Earth, and the lone ship that defended her, began.
TWENTY-FOUR
“Aramthella, how quickly can you place us over the White … wait. The White House was attacked. No way anyone but construction workers would be there, now. Tank, where would the POTUS be?” I asked, self-correcting.
“Well, let's see. He could either stay visible, you know, to bolster a frightened public's confidence, or he could go to ground.”
“Payette wouldn't hide. I don't know him well at all, but he seems like a take-the-bull-by-the-horns kind of guy,” observed Sachiko.
“I agree. So, where would he go? Camp David? They still use that, right?” I inquired.
Tank shook his head. “Nah. Too isolated, too hard to defend, and it'd send the message that he was not anxious to be near his citizenry.”
“A military base?”
“You've been on a military base or two, right?”
“A few,” I replied with a grin. “Why is that an important piece of information?”
“They're dull, boring, flat—really flat—and they have a sort of negative aesthetic vibe. They're basically the opposite of defensible. Plus, if a man of power and culture had a choice, he'd stay anywhere else.”
“So, if he stayed in DC … What, the vice presidential residence?”
&
nbsp; “That'd be my call.”
“Aramthella, how—” Sachiko began to ask.
“Excuse me for interrupting your first captainly act, Sachiko, but, I think I know where this is going. Not my first rodeo, etcetera, etcetera. We can approach without them having any warning. I can return us to the Earth in the distant past. Once there, we wave to the dinosaurs, and pop into the present time. We will, literally, appear out of nowhere.”
“Clever girl,” Sachiko said glowingly. Then she realized Aramthella might not appreciate being placed into that category. “Aramthella, in our navy tradition, ships are female. Do you mind being called she, and girl?”
“Not in the least, Captain. As one who clearly has no sexual assignment, or future prospects, those are as neutral a term as any.”
“Place us on the front entrance to One Observatory Circle, please. Present day.”
“Aye, Captain, further keeping with the navy tradition's terminology. One point, ma'am.”
“Yes?”
“Captain's don't ever—and you can take this to your bank—say please.”
“Right. Got it. Oh, once we're there, er, how do we exit you?”
“I have ramps. Shiny metallic ramps. I'm so very proud of them.”
“And where would we find a shiny, pretty ramp?”
“I'll light the floor in the direction of the nearest one. I'll have it pointed at the front door.”
“Make it so.”
Talk about anticlimax. No sooner had Aramthella finished, and a bright line in the floor sprang to life.
“Thanks for flying Air Aramthella,” the ship sing-songed.
This one was going to be a lot to handle. I needed that, because, my plate wasn't so very full already. Did I do something bad to an abacus in a former lifetime? Was that why I was saddled with the wise asses of the computation world?
We quickly followed the exit trail. When we arrived at the door, it opened without my asking. Sure enough, there was the main entrance of OOC. And, yup, those were soldiers running toward us with rifles directed forward.
“I'll go first,” I said, as I placed an arm in front of Sachiko and jumped ahead. “Eighteen-year-olds with assault weapons have been a large part of my life. I think I can get a few words out before they open up.” I was on the ground by the time I finished speaking.
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