Victory's Defeat

by Mark Tufo

  “Asuras isn’t going to let you leave here. He said he’d rather this ship be destroyed than used in combat against him.”

  “Then you, Michael Talbot, are going to be the downfall of humanity. I wouldn’t worry about it too much because there won’t be anyone left to record it or to read about it. Hell, maybe the Progs will even hail you as a national hero.”

  “Yeah, that’s called for,” I said.

  “You lured me into a trap. Maybe inadvertently, yet here I am. Maybe I can fight my way out, maybe I can’t. Even if I do make it, we will garner damage we can ill afford. Just get off my ship.” He looked pretty defeated already.

  I was going to make one stop before I did so. “Don’t do anything just yet,” I told him as I walked out the door and into the hallway.

  “Why? You want to make sure we’re lined up perfectly in their sights?”

  I just stared at him.

  “I’m sorry…that was too far.”

  “Just give me one last shot. You still may have to fight, but just give me a chance.”

  “For what?”

  “I’ll let you know when I know.” BT and I were heading for engineering. “Anything?” I asked the sergeant looking over the box.

  “Anything?” he asked. “Are you kidding me? This thing is better than the Holy Grail.”

  “The movie or the actual artifact?” I asked.

  “Really?” BT asked me, the sergeant just gave me a stare like I’d lost my damn mind.

  “Have you figured it out?” I asked.

  “The hardest part was the translation of the instructions from Progerian to English; otherwise it’s pretty simple. Stripped down into plain language…”

  “He appreciates that,” BT said.

  I was about to tell BT to fuck off, but actually, I really would rather have the layman’s version.

  “Well, it’s mostly a virus, sort of a Trojan, or maybe a worm that forces a computer system to allow remote access. Once you have that access it’d only take a minute or two to take over the entire system. There’s more to it, but that’s the basics. This is a pretty advanced piece of hardware. Can I ask what you were doing with it?”

  “Collusion,” I replied. “How do you activate it?”

  “Couple of ways. Either a signal is sent, or it can be done manually.” He showed me a pressure point on one of the sides that was labeled with two squiggly lines overlaid by an oval.

  “Can you direct this signal to another ship?”

  “No way. These ships are their own Faraday cages—meaning they are completely shielded from this type of attack. This has to be done from the inside and pretty close to the main terminal.”

  “You up for wearing your ball harness again?” I asked BT.

  “What? No! I’m not wearing that thing again! You’ll just rat me out.”

  “Not this time, they’d definitely kill you.”

  “You thought Paul’s men might kill me but showed them the device anyway?”

  “Come on…it was a remote chance.”

  “There’s no way they are going to allow this back on their bridge, Mike.”

  “Not the same way it got here, that’s for sure. What if we stuck it inside one of the returning Progs?”

  “Not a horrible idea, Colonel, but they’ll know what remote signal to look for when we send it and will be able to easily block it. And I don’t think the Progerian will care much for you cutting him open to get to the switch.”

  “Yeah that’s a problem. They’re sensitive about that sort of thing.” I put my hand to my chin.

  “What about embedding the signal in a transmission?” I was grasping.

  “This isn’t a science fiction movie. I wouldn’t know how to do that, and they’d still be able to isolate, detect, and stop it. Even if you get the cube on the bridge, it is going to take time for me to grab control, and an experienced man at the helm will be able to see what I am doing and still probably be able to stop me. I’d need for them to be totally distracted.”

  “Shit, it would have been much easier just taking over this ship.” I was pacing. “Should have maybe stuck with that plan.” Not sure if the sergeant realized I was not being serious.

  “What about hiding it in plain sight?” BT asked.

  “We’re listening,” I told him.

  “Tell them that Paul is all on board and as a token of their new friendship, Paul has sent a present. Maybe a fruit basket or something.”

  “Yeah, because Progerians are known for their love of gift baskets. Gang members and their weed. Am I right?” I shouldered the sergeant.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he told me.

  “They do enjoy fruit, though.” I was beginning to think on it. “You might be right.”

  “No shit.”

  “Sergeant, can you get something prepared?”

  “It won’t be easy…not sure how much fresh fruit we have aboard. But I’m sure I can get something together.”

  “Wait. I have a question,” BT stated.

  “This going to complicate things?” I asked and he nodded. “I don’t want to know then.” I was being about as honest as I could be.

  “You said they are going to know the signal that’s being sent, so how are you possibly going to gain remote access? Won't they be able to see that as well?”

  “They will.” The sergeant said. “But hopefully they won’t be looking for one from inside the ship.”

  “Inside the ship? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m coming, and I’m bringing a laptop.”

  “I can’t guarantee I can get you on the bridge.”

  “Don’t need to. I’ll bring an interface machine and plug in at the dock.”

  “Yeah, that’s not going to look suspicious,” I said. “Just a random Human, click-clacking away. Don’t mind me…nothing to see here…move along.” I was making a sweeping motion with my hand.

  “We get it, you don’t need to act it out,” BT said.

  “I could do it wirelessly. It will take longer and the risk of the signal being caught is greater, but at least I don’t have to be out in the open.”

  “Sergeant, I hope you realize what happens to us if we get caught.”

  He swallowed hard but he seemed confident with his choice.

  “And just so you’re aware, the same might still happen even if we’re successful. Just thought I’d throw that out there,” I said.

  “Gee thanks,” BT answered.

  While the sergeant did some practice runs and BT went to get us some food, I went back to see Paul by myself and told him of the plan.

  “You know it’s suicide, right?”

  “I know that I can’t think of another way, Paul. We need that ship—whether we take it, or you finally come to your senses and fight alongside it.”

  He scoffed at that.

  “Man, we were good friends once,” he said, getting a faraway look in his eyes.

  “Funny what Armageddon can do to a relationship,” I said.

  He let go a small laugh. “Should you get a hold of the ship, then what, Mike? That doesn’t take guns out of the hands of the crew. What are we going to do with thousands of double-crossed Progerians? They’ll never let one of my flight crews fly that bird. They’ll immediately find ways to sabotage or even scuttle that ship.”

  “Don’t you get your wish if that ship is destroyed?” I asked.

  “Mike, contrary to popular belief, it is not my hope that you die with her.”

  “Not quite dead yet. Just be ready if I call for some help.”

  “Of course.”

  I gave him a look, questioning those words. He didn’t have a great track record backing them up. “I’m going to need the Progs back.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “It’s going to look mighty suspicious me telling Asuras that we are united allies but we’re going to keep three of their people as prisoners. What are those Progs worth in comparison to that ship, Paul?” Ye
ah, I knew what buttons to push.

  Paul hit the intercom button. “Escort our Progerian visitors back to their ship please.”

  “Right away sir,” came the reply.

  “Good enough?”

  “It will do,” I told him.

  Within a few minutes, BT, myself, and Sergeant Greggs were watching as the three Progerians were led back onto the shuttle.

  “BT, you don’t need to come back with me,” I told him.

  “And miss all the fun? Fuck that. I want to see Asuras’s face when he loses the ship.”

  “Just so you know, they don’t really have the facial muscles to show a range of emotions. I mean it’s there, but it’s real subtle. Gonna be pretty anticlimactic if that’s your only reason for coming back.”

  “Don’t talk me out of this shit. I just justified going back with you.”

  “Fine. You good, Greggs?”

  “I am, Colonel. The general gave me cyanide pills. You guys want one?”

  “Should we take it now?” BT asked he looked fairly serious about the question.

  “It would save me the gastro-intestinal distress I’m about to put my system through,” I said.

  “What?” BT and the sergeant asked.

  “Stress. It fucks my belly up. Thought you should know, Sergeant, this is the most fucked up gift basket I’ve ever seen.” I was holding a repurposed gray tool box. The device was hidden under the pullout tray. A special latch had been devised so it couldn’t be removed easily—unless you knew what to hit. On the side was an access panel so I could reach my finger in and depress the transmit button without having to take the food off first. Had to think someone would notice that. A large plastic bowl had been adhered to the box to hold the gift portion, which consisted of two containers of spam, four foil packets of cherry pop-tarts, one canned ham, and Dee’s personal favorite—Moxie cola. If I were ever marooned on a desert island with this basket of so-called food, I would starve to death long before any of it was opened up.

  “So, no fruit, then.”

  The sergeant shrugged. “It was all I could do on short notice. My understanding is that they’re pretty big fans of the spam.”

  The Progs on the shuttle didn’t say anything about their brief incarceration. I could only hope Paul’s men had treated them alright. None of them looked any worse for the wear. Our flight back was uneventful. Greggs looked like we were in the family car heading out to get some ice cream on a warm summer night. I, personally, was sweating bullets, constantly dabbing the fluid off my forehead.

  “Yeah that probably won’t give anything away,” BT said. “You’re going to leave puddles wherever you go. Stop looking guilty, we haven’t even done anything yet.”

  “Do you ever wish we had just got on that ship with Tracy?” I asked him.

  “Every minute,” he said.

  Chapter 12

  MIKE JOURNAL ENTRY 7

  It was strange to me that I was about to get on a ship the size of a city and could still suffer from claustrophobia. Weird how the mind works. On any average day on earth I probably never wandered any farther than what the confines of this ship defined, but it was the knowledge that an inch farther was the vacuum of space that was fucking with my head. This line of thinking was doing nothing good for my nerves. I did my best to steer the destructive imagery away; started thinking about Tracy and Travis and that was just bringing smiles to my face until I started to wonder if I would ever see them again. Now I was beginning to fill up with anger and rage, which, for me at least, is a lot harder to hide than a little forehead sweat.

  “Mike man, what the fuck are you doing? You’re looking like that crazy guy from that Stephen King movie; you know the part where he pokes his head through the bathroom door.”

  “Huh? Oh, shit really? I look like Jack Torrance…because that’s sort of how I feel. Wish you’d taken a picture.”

  “You can be all unhinged if you want to, but how about not broadcasting it to our hosts?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Good thing,” BT said, just as we touched down.

  I noticed Greggs clutch his leather document briefcase, which at this moment housed an interface unit. He looked like he could still be going to an ice cream social, but now, at least, maybe he was worried about his caloric intake.

  Some words were exchanged between the Progs that got off the ship and those that were waiting for our arrival. They had reverted to their native tongue and would constantly look over at us. Can’t say that made me feel overly confident. One of the soldiers that had been waiting for us broke off his conversation and approached.

  “Commander Asuras, requests your presence,” he said.

  “This isn’t the way to the bridge,” I told our guide after we’d gone a ways. Both BT and Greggs looked to me.

  “The commander wishes to talk to you in the privacy of his cabin.”

  “Oh great,” I managed to say. Sure it was drenched in sarcasm but Progs weren’t great at picking that up.

  When we got to Asuras’s quarters, our guide let us in. He was sitting in a large chair studying a display. From our angle, it was impossible to see, although I was fairly certain it was an x-ray of the tool box I was carrying.

  “We come bearing gifts!” I said as I placed the ridiculous food basket down on a shelf. “It is customary to break bread with senior officers during an alliance.”

  “All of them,” BT added when Asuras got up to look at what I’d brought.

  “Your general has agreed to an alliance then?”

  “He has.”

  “I am told my personnel was detained upon arrival to the Julipion.”

  “Precautionary event Commander.” I started. “The general is not very trusting of Progerians, given our previous history.”

  “This is wise of him. My advisors did not predict that he would align with us.”

  I was not liking the track of this conversation. He was feeling us out and we’d been isolated from the rest of the ship. We all were carrying small firearms but we were never going to be able to forcibly take the ship over with them. That fucking cube needed to be on the bridge—that was our only chance. If that didn’t happen soon, Paul either opened fire or made good his escape, at which point us three would be hung out to dry. This was part of the risk; we’d all known it.

  “I can be pretty persuasive when I need to be. Yes, your kind is responsible for wiping out nearly three-quarters of our planet's inhabitants and almost our entire infrastructure, but the Stryvers want to finish the job and take over the planet for themselves. Obviously, that is what you wanted as well, but now we have a common enemy. And to be honest Commander, Humans are fresh out of options. If Paul had any other choice he would not have listened to me. He’s angry and seeks retribution, but not at the cost of what remains of his planet.”

  “What shall happen to our alliance once we defeat the Stryvers?” Asuras asked.

  This one was smart. I felt like I was dancing around a minefield with clown shoes on.

  “What do you want to happen, Asuras? There is always going to be distrust and suspicion between our peoples. It will be generations before the pain of this war diminishes. It’s never going to be all flowers and peace parades. As for active war, it is my sincerest hope that it will be over, permanently. What we decide today may affect our descendants for generations. I will do all in my power to fight for that.”

  “Fight for peace?” he asked.

  “I agree it’s a strange turn of a phrase, but yes. I don’t want to fight anymore, and I know a lot of people that feel the same way. It is time to heal. I’m more concerned about your home world, Asuras. It is my understanding that life-sustaining planets are at a premium, and I’m not completely convinced that you are speaking unilaterally for your ruling body. If and when we defeat the Stryvers, my biggest fear is that you will turn your full might against us in a war we both know humanity cannot possibly survive.”

  “I have promised you that they will honor a
ny agreements we come to.”

  “Forgive me for not believing everything you say; it is human nature to not trust completely. Or at least it is my nature. Yes, they may agree with you as far as they must according to the governing laws established for long range commanders. But surely it is not out of the realm of possibilities for them to fabricate an event afterwards to further their cause?”

  “Deception to reignite a conflict?” Asuras asked. He grasped the concept fairly quickly; too quickly for my taste. It signified that at some point in their history something like that had happened. And he was absolutely honest in his answer. “That is a possibility, but much like you, I will fight to pursue a peaceful existence my people and the Genogerians have not known for many years.”

  “Why don’t we celebrate this new alliance with your officers?” I asked as I went to grab the basket. I felt sort of shitty about the duplicity but only sort of. If I didn’t get something accomplished soon we were all going to die, and by “we” I meant the Humans aboard this ship and then all of the Humans everywhere else.

  “I have three shuttles full of personnel and equipment all set to go to the Julipion to help in her repair efforts.”

  “That’s a problem, Asuras.” How in the fuck could I tell him that Paul was likely to shoot those shuttles out of the sky? “To begin with, calling the Guardian, the Julipion is not a way to solicit a peace with the general. That ship was taken through a hard-fought battle where many men and women lost their lives for the victory. It is ours by any definition of armed conflict. To call it otherwise is an insult to those that sacrificed all in a quest to obtain it.”

  “I meant no disrespect. You must understand that I watched the Julipion, your Guardian, being built as a child. She was the flagship of our great exploratory ships—ships designed to find new places my people could go, to be free from the threat of Stryvers. There was great hope when they were deployed. None of us had known that these ships were being monitored and followed by the Stryvers. They have since spread their misery across the cosmos.”

  I wanted to remind him that it was his people that were the carrier; I refrained. I’m tactful like that.