by Doug Farren
Chapter 35
Zathkra was nervous but he felt compelled to discuss his concerns with Commander Varku. Questioning the actions or orders of one’s superiors was an exceptionally rare occurrence in Chroniech culture. Doing so usually meant the superior’s leadership skills were being challenged and such actions could easily result in severe disciplinary action. Zathkra had agonized over this for days. He would have to carefully choose his words or he would end up cleaning the ship’s heads for the rest of his career.
Strict compliance with the chain of command required Zathkra to speak first to his commanding officer. Bypassing him and going directly to Varku would have been a serious breach of protocol and carried severe penalties. Captain Albrath had also not been pleased when Varku practically ordered him to name Zathkra as his executive officer even though the appointment made sense. As a former base commander, Zathkra was entitled to a high ranking post. Anything less than XO would have been viewed as a demotion.
Zathkra told Captain Albrath that he needed to speak to the Group Commander concerning a sensitive matter. Instead of asking for details as Zathkra had anticipated, Albrath waved him away. “You seem to have the Commander’s ear,” Albrath told him. “If you need to talk to him, then by all means do so. Just remember who’s in command of this ship.”
Varku quickly responded to Zathkra’s request for a meeting.
Zathkra appeared before the Commander’s stateroom door at the appointed time, pushed the call button, and stated his name. “Enter,” Varku’s voice barked from the speaker set into the door’s control plate, as it slid open.
“Have a seat,” Varku said as soon as Zathkra entered the room. This put the Commander in a superior position, enabling him to look down at the ship’s executive officer.
Zathkra settled into the indicated seat and said, “I’m glad we’re now on the offensive. We’ve been idle for far too long and the men were becoming lax. I can see and hear how proud they feel as we prepare the ship for battle.”
“I’m aware of this change in the crew,” Varku said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I suspect you didn’t ask to see me just to tell me this. What’s on your mind Sub-Captain Zathkra?”
“We have a weapon of immense power at our disposal,” he began. “It’s power was successfully demonstrated against one of the strongest ships in the Alliance fleet. It instantly penetrated the Komodo Dragon’s Kyrra shield and sent them running. If all of our ships could have such a- - -”
“Are you questioning my decision to engage the Alliance?” Varku asked, the hairs on the back of his neck rising.
“No!” Zathkra quickly replied. “But I’m worried that this technology will be lost. If our scientists can dupl- - -”
“Our scientists are trapped inside an impenetrable transdimensional field along with the rest of our entire race,” Varku practically spat. “What do you think we should do? Run away and hide again? Build another base? Choback may have had good intentions but he didn’t think things through. Tell me, why do you think Choback wasted so much of our resources on fortifying the base?”
“To protect our people in the event of an Alliance attack,” Zathkra replied.
“He had no plan in place to abandon the base.” Varku started pacing as he talked. “He believed the base defenses would’ve utterly destroyed any Alliance vessel that happened to find us and our presence would remain undetected until our people freed themselves. He was wrong and refused listen to reason. We were doomed from the moment we became trapped in Alliance space. That’s why I took command.”
Zathkra was shocked. As a Commander, Varku did not have to explain himself or his actions to anyone. Zathkra was still trying to come to grips with this unexpected behavior when Varku continued talking. “Choback could have remained in command and I would have gladly followed him had he only listened to reason. He did manage to extend our lives by several years and his decision to build the base did lead to our accidental discovery of the Kyrra planet killer. But when he refused the advice from myself and Captain Gritharg to mount the weapon on the battleship we knew we had to take action. We …”
Varku suddenly stopped talking. He looked at Zathkra for a moment, then pulled up a chair and sat down. This action symbolically indicated that Varku was now talking to Zathkra as an equal and not a superior. “From the moment we were cut off from our people,” he said in a surprisingly calm voice, “we were doomed. The Alliance was bound to discover and destroy us. There was never any doubt in my mind of this. I could not stand to just sit and wait for the end to occur. I want to die in battle, not hiding underground on a barren planetoid wandering through the depths of space.”
“Even with the Kyrra weapons we’ve acquired, do you still believe we have no hope of survival?” Zathkra asked. He immediately regretted it, wishing he could somehow rewind the conversation.
“We may have a weapon of incredible power at our command,” Varku replied. “And our shield is enhanced with Kyrra technology, but we’re not invincible. We’ll destroy a large number of their ships. We might even be able to kill millions of their people with the matter converters. But eventually, the Alliance will mass a large enough fleet to overwhelm our defenses and send us to oblivion.”
Varku stood up motioning for Zathkra to do the same. He walked over to the large screen mounted on the wall. “Ship, link to tactical display.”
The screen came to life showing the current tactical situation. Pointing to a tiny dot at the extreme edge of their detection range, Varku said, “See that. That’s most likely the Komodo Dragon. It’s the only ship in the Alliance fleet capable of keeping up with us. If I were their commander, I would’ve ordered that ship to keep an eye on us no matter how badly damaged it was. If we try to attack, it will flee, but it will always be there. Shadowing us. Keeping the Alliance informed of our every move.”
“Do Captains Gritharg and Albrath know this?”
“They do and I suspect many of the crew know as well. Captain Albrath, however, is of the opinion that we will somehow single-handedly defeat the entire Alliance.”
Zathkra pondered the situation for a moment as the two officers stood silently shoulder to shoulder looking at the dot representing the Alliance heavy cruiser.
“Before you took command,” Zathkra carefully began, “a significant number of the men believed in what Choback was trying to do. Many of us believe our scientists will eventually find a way to break through the barrier. If we can find a way to pass what we’ve learned on to them, the Alliance wouldn’t stand a chance against us.”
Varku turned and looked at Zathkra. “What are you suggesting?”
“Tactically speaking, Gritharg’s ship is a hindrance instead of an asset. Only its shield and stardrive have been upgraded through our understanding of Kyrra technology. Its weapons remain unchanged and it cannot engage the enemy at the same range we can. I’m sure we could find enough volunteers willing to continue to hide from the Alliance until our people break through the barrier. It will at least give us a chance to protect the secrets we’ve uncovered.”
Varku nodded his head. “You’ll make a fine captain some day. I’ll look into implementing your idea.”
“I’m afraid I’ll never make captain,” Zathkra replied. “I plan on remaining on this ship.”
Chapter 36
“Please sit,” Lashpa said as Tom walked into her stateroom.
Tom sat down on the edge of the Rouldian equivalent of a chair as Lashpa settled into a second. Tom’s chair had been turned 90 degrees so the front cushion would not interfere with his ability to see her.
“I’ve been doing some research,” she began. “Many Terrans refer to Rouldians as dragons and I was curious as to why. I also thought it might help give me some insight into your remark the other day.”
Tom wanted to reach out and put his hands on either side of her jaw but held himself back. This was a serious matter they were discussing. He had already apologized multiple times and doing so again wouldn�
��t add any value to the conversation.
“And what did you find?” he asked.
“The resemblance is superficial at best,” she said. “Dragons are considerably larger and have wings. Their jaws are much longer and there are horns sticking out of their heads. Their scales are larger and although they have four legs as I do, they have no arms. But these are physical differences. What I found most interesting is how dragons are usually portrayed in your mythology—ruthless creatures that breathe fire and take pleasure in death and destruction.”
Tom couldn’t help but wince. “Not all dragons are like that,” he said.
Lashpa tilted her head to one side and nodded. “True, but the vast majority of them are. If you hold that same concept in your mind about me, you will automatically assume I’m not bothered by the thought or the site of slaughter. The fact that I prefer to eat a good portion of my food while it’s still living only adds to this vision.”
“But I know you’re nothing like that!” Tom pleaded. This rift between them had been bothering him for days and he wanted nothing more than to find a way for them to move beyond what had happened. “You might look or at least sort of look like a dragon, but you’re not a dragon! I don’t- - -”
Lashpa interrupted Tom with an upraised hand. “You’re not at fault and I’m not blaming you at all,” she explained. “We’re both the victim of deeply rooted cultural issues that unknowingly shape how we view the world around us.”
“What are you talking about?” Tom asked, trying desperately to figure out her point.
“Dragons and similar mythical monsters are part of your cultural history. You learn about them as a child and they become an integral part of how you perceive your environment. We have similar stories. One of them involves a hairless, tree-dwelling creature called a sharooth. It has no scales, smooth, hairless skin, two legs, two arms, and a wide mouth with two large fangs.”
“I’ve heard that word before,” Tom said, as he tried to remember. His ship provided the answer, feeding the information directly to his brain through the biolink. “That’s what your cousin, Heshgerv, called me during the gragrakch ceremony.”
“I remember,” she replied, her tail twitching. “It was a strong insult. I’m surprised my uncle didn’t physically harm her.”
The image of her enraged uncle came back to him in crystal clear clarity. “He was pretty angry,” he said. “So tell me about these sharooths.”
“They’re pathetic creatures, lacking the ability to defend themselves. They resort to devious methods to kill their prey. Their breath contains a hypnotic toxin causing a person to believe almost anything the sharooth tells them. Through lies and treachery, the sharooth lures a person to its hidden lair. The toxin eventually paralyzes its prey. When the victim is unable to move, the monster reveals itself then drives its fangs into the person’s neck and drinks its blood while it’s still flowing. I can’t imagine a more horrible death.”
“We call such creatures vampires,” Tom said.
“The point I’m trying to make,” Lashpa said, “is I’ve been influenced by my cultural monsters as much as you. For a long time after we decided we were gragrakch, I found myself having doubts because Terrans are physically very much like our mythical sharooth. I knew in my heart that we were gragrakch but no matter how hard I tried, the doubts kept returning. In my mind, I saw you as a sharooth just like you often see me as a dragon.”
“Wait a minute,” Tom said. “You didn’t trust me?”
“I did, but that trust was continually being challenged by my beliefs.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was afraid of how you would react. One thing I’ve learned is that Terrans are very emotional creatures.”
“But you trust me now—without any reservations?”
“I do.”
“What changed your mind?”
“The day you told me you wanted to formally announce our gragrakch on Fanish in front of my family.”
Tom was stunned. Finding one’s gragrakch was a momentous occasion and life-altering event for Rouldians. Lashpa had taken an enormous risk when she finally told him she believed they were gragrakch. Once that decision was made, reversing it would have devastated her. To have lived with the thought for all these months that Tom could possibly be deceiving her must have put a horrible strain on her. A wave of compassion hit him like a spray of liquid nitrogen.
Tom couldn’t help himself. Standing up, he wrapped his arms around her huge head. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you,” he said. “Promise me you will never, ever keep your feelings secret from me. We are gragrakch; two bodies—one soul.”
Lashpa’s tongue flashed out and gently touched the side of Tom’s neck. “I promise.”
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
“Of course!” she replied, pulling her head up so fast she lifted Tom off the deck.
Chapter 37
Scarboro walked onto the Dragon’s bridge carrying his half-full mug of coffee. “Captain on the bridge!” the marine standing by the door announced.
Commander Stiles, the ship’s executive officer, spun the command chair around as Scarboro said, “Good morning! Anything new to report?”
The Commander stood up, stretched, and yawned. “Nothing new Sir. We’re still heading off into nowhere at breakneck speed. Do they think we’re just going to give up and turn back?”
“I don’t know what they’re thinking,” Scarboro replied, scanning the screens arrayed around the dimly lit bridge. “If that’s all you’ve got then- - -”
“Targets are slowing!” Lieutenant Neven Dejan announced from the tactical station.
“Keep our distance and match their speed,” Scarboro ordered. “Commander, I relieve you.”
“I stand relieved,” Stiles replied. “Want me to stick around?”
“No need. We’re not about to engage them. If they try to threaten us, we’ll just back away. Get some sleep.”
“Aye Sir.”
Scarboro took his seat in the captain’s chair and entered the command to reconfigure the screens to his own liking. Staring at the three-dimensional tactical viewer, he watched as the two Chroniech warships slowed then dropped out of stardrive. The Dragon quickly followed suit. The two icons representing the enemy ships moved closer together until they merged.
“Helm, take us to 300,000 kilometers.”
“Aye Sir.”
Scarboro calmly sipped his coffee and waited. One by one the night shift was relieved. He had been forced to send a sizable chunk of his crew over to the Rouldians, following the near disastrous first encounter with the Chroniech battleship. His medical officer was concerned about her ability to treat so many people for radiation overexposure. The reduced manning meant those who were left were now on a twelve-hour watch rotation.
Lieutenant Billings completed his turnover at the tactical station, made some adjustments, and reported, “Captain, I have the watch. I’m picking up what appears to be shuttle traffic between the two Chroniech ships.”
“Interesting,” Scarboro said. “What are they up to?”
Since he had not directed the question to anyone, nobody took it upon themselves to speculate. Leaning back in his chair, Scarboro grabbed his chin with his right thumb and index finger and waited.
* * * *
“The shuttle is in the hangar,” the helm reported.
“Very well,” Commander Varku replied. “Get me Captain Gritharg.”
A moment later, the Captain’s face appeared on the screen. He stared at the Commander, waiting for him to speak first.
“I know you’re not happy with this,” Varku began. “But if you’re successful, it will be your name that will be remembered for many years, not mine. We’ll keep the Alliance busy while you disappear. Get as far as you can from Alliance space. Avoid all contact with their ships and monitoring stations. Find some place you can hide until our people emerge from the other side of the barrier. The k
nowledge you carry will enable our scientists to build weapons so powerful the Alliance will fall like water off a cliff.”
“I understand the reasoning behind what you ask of me,” Gritharg said. “But it does not lessen the shame I feel. I’m a military officer. I do not hide from the enemy. But I will obey your command because it’s what’s best for our people. I serve with honor.”
“The honor has been mine,” Varku replied.
“Good hunting, Commander.”
* * * * *
Three hours, two cups of coffee, and a trip to the head later, the battleships were once again on the move. A moment later, both ships engaged their stardrives, heading off in two diametrically opposite directions.
“Which one do we follow?” the helm asked.
Scarboro looked at the tactical display. The largest of the two ships was heading back towards Alliance space. It was the same ship that had attacked them earlier.”
“Follow the heavy battleship,” Scarboro ordered. “Coms, fire off a SITREP to Centralis. Inform them we’ve lost the smaller ship and are continuing to track the other one.”
“Aye Sir.”
“Tactical, do we have a possible target?”
“Checking … Indeterminate at this point.”
“Put a course projection in the ball,” Scarboro ordered.
A hair-thin, white line appeared in the three-dimensional tactical display in the middle of the bridge. Since space was three-dimensional, it only made sense to have a method of displaying the 3D space surrounding a warship. The ball—as it was called—was a smaller version of a similar display in CIC (Combat Information and Control). Details such as exact location, relative speed, type of vessel and weapons status could be obtained from the standard flat screen displays installed on the individual consoles. Inside the ball, relative velocity was indicated by a tiny arrow and the type of ship by a specific icon and color.
