by Doug Farren
“Huh?” Tom replied. “I’m not a linguistics expert and as far as we know the Mowry don’t have access to any long-distance communication systems. There’s nothing for me to tap into.”
“They talk to the Purists,” Sorbith pushed his idea. “There must be a way to listen in on their transmissions.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Tom replied, even though he didn’t see how he would ever succeed.
Turning to the others, Sorbith said, “In the meantime, I have requested the Alliance send us 300 warships. Before they arrive, we should have a plan in place on how best to use them to force the Purists off the Mowry homeworld with as little bloodshed as possible. It’s been a long day. We will meet back here at 0900 tomorrow; I should have an answer from Centralis by then. Let’s get some rest.”
As Tom was making his way around the table, Quinth put out an arm to stop him. “May I have a word with you?”
“Of course,” Tom replied.
“You are Terran?”
“I am.”
“I have had occasion to deal with Terrans before,” Quinth began. “Why do you continue to pursue a course of action when the possibility of success is so slim?”
At first, Tom thought Quinth was referring to himself and didn’t have a clue about what he was talking about. Apparently seeing his confusion, Quinth elaborated. “The Purists have been given an ultimatum to leave the Mowry planet. They have, at most, a few hundred warships. The Alliance has thousands. Yet, they refuse to leave, believing they will prevail against the combined might of the Alliance. I have seen Terrans do this on many occasions—why?”
Tom scratched the back of his head even though it was now covered in duralloy instead of skin. It was a habit almost as old as he was that he had yet to break. “I’m not sure I have a good answer for you Quinth,” Tom admitted after a moment. “We can be a very stubborn species. We don’t like to give up even when facing overwhelming odds against us. I cannot, however, explain why.”
Quinth tilted his massive head to one side causing Tom to think of how Lashpa did the same thing. Tom couldn’t help himself as he chuckled. The tilt became more pronounced. “What are you laughing at?” Quinth asked, sounding a little perturbed.
“Rouldians tilt their heads when they hear something that doesn’t make much sense,” Tom explained. “There’s an animal we Terrans have as pets that does the same thing. I mean no offense. I used to smile every time Lashpa did it.”
Quinth’s head leveled itself out as he lowered it so he could look Tom in the eye. “Lashpa Methsha Krish from Fanish?”
Tom’s smile vanished, replaced by a look of surprise. “Yes! We were at the academy together. You know her?”
“I am Quinth Shykrith Krish, her uncle. Is she well?”
Tom was floored. What were the odds of him running into Lashpa’s uncle, a single person out of billions, in an unexplored star system swimming inside millions of cubic light years of space? “She came to Earth to visit me not too long ago,” he said. “She’s doing very well.”
“Ah!” Quinth’s head bobbed up and down with understanding. “You are the Terran she spoke of—her gragrakch. I should have recognized the name, my apologies. I am honored to meet you.”
“No apology required,” Tom replied, wondering if there was a traditional Rouldian greeting he was forgetting to follow. Picking up on his thoughts, his ship told him he was doing just fine. “I am honored to meet you as well.”
Quinth and Tom conversed for a few more minutes before parting company. Back in his stateroom, he looked longingly at the shower; a facility he no longer required. He missed the relaxing feeling of a nice hot shower. But, he no longer had muscles that needed loosening up or large patches of exposed skin to respond to the hot spray of cascading water. The bunk creaked under his heavier than normal weight as he lay down. Although he could sense the mattress sink underneath him, it didn’t ‘feel’ soft. He was beginning to miss his old body.
The psychologists had warned him about this at the academy. It seemed to affect almost every Peacekeeper although there was no telling when it would happen or how severe the reaction would be for any particular individual. The only way to deal with it was to try to stop focusing on what things used to feel like. It would eventually pass, but in the meantime, Tom desperately wanted to be back in his own body.
Sleep took its sweet time in coming, but eventually it did arrive.
Chapter 36
Tom’s friends were waiting for him in the morning. It didn’t take long for them to figure out that something was bothering him. Like a persistent pack of wolves, they pestered him until he finally caved in and explained the problem.
“Is there anything we can do?” Mark asked.
Tom shook his head then quickly changed to a nod. “The best thing is to just stop talking about it. The more I’m reminded of what I’m missing the longer it’s going to take for me to get over this.”
Tom cut his time with his friends short saying he had to get to a meeting. Knowing that the conference room would be occupied by the Dragon’s senior officers for their morning meeting, he decided to wander around the ship. Most of the crew was now awake and the passageways were crowded with people either going to or coming off watch. He was forced to respond to a steady stream of people wishing him a good morning. But every such greeting invariably ended with either “Sir” or “Peacekeeper”. Back when he had been part of the crew, people would have addressed him as either “Tom” or “Wilks”.
He arrived back at the conference room feeling moody and slightly depressed. Sorbith didn’t seem to notice. He took a seat and waited for the others to arrive.
“We’ve received a reply from Centralis,” Sorbith began the meeting. “A fleet of 254 ships will gather near Earth before heading here. They should arrive in about ten days. The advisory council is considering this a Terran problem so most of the ships are crewed by Terrans. We have been instructed to remove the Purists from the Mowry system with extreme caution. Mowry deaths or destruction of Mowry property is to be avoided if possible. I have given this problem considerable thought and the only solution I’ve come up with is to attack their ships and then mount a ground invasion to finish the job. This is how we will proceed unless someone has a better idea.”
“I have one,” Tom spoke up.
“Let’s hear it.”
Tom didn’t bother to stand. “This plan will take some time, but if it works, we just might be able to force the AOH to surrender without destroying a single vessel. We approach the planet as a single, large fleet. I doubt the Purists will surrender even in the face of such a display of firepower. Instead of rushing out to meet us, they’ll probably remain close to the planet. Attacking the fleet would be suicide.”
“They’ll also want to protect their shipyards,” Sorbith added.
“We target their ships and open fire with beam weapons only,” Tom continued. “We keep the power level of our weapons high enough to challenge their shields but no higher. Our strategy will be to force them to maintain their shields until they run out of perishable supplies. We, on the other hand, can change out ships as often as needed. Eventually, one by one, or all at once, they will be forced to surrender.”
“Won’t work,” Doug said, shaking his head. “The AOH can just target one of our ships with as many of theirs as necessary to overload the shield. Even if we are at the edge of our effective range, they can muster enough firepower to overwhelm a shield. One by one, we’ll start loosing ships.”
Tom was shaken. He should have considered that possibility. Nodding his head, he said, “You’re right. My idea won’t work. I should have thought of their possible responses before suggesting it.”
“Part of it might work though,” Quinth said. "We don’t have to target the warships. As much as I hate to suggest this, we could just blow the supply shuttles out of the sky robbing the warships of supplies.”
“And how many Mowry would be killed by such actions?” Chyr asked.
“I doubt the Purists would allow any Mowry aboard their ships, but if any are aboard the shuttles the losses would be minimal,” Quinth said. “After the first couple of ships are destroyed they won’t launch any more.”
“We don’t have the time for a protracted campaign against the Purists,” Sorbith said. “Are there any other suggestions?”
“The Dragon’s guns can easily punch through any AOH shield,” Doug spoke up. “If we target them properly, the Dragon can disable every single warship they have in a matter of hours.”
Everyone knew the Captain was not boasting. The Dragon’s Hess-built weapons originated from a technologically far superior race. The ship had proved itself during the war when it took on multiple Chroniech battleships and emerged victorious.
“Our primary focus should be on protecting the lives and property of the Mowry,” Chyr said. “They’ve been mislead by the Purists. The Mowry will judge us by our actions. By attacking their ships as you suggest we could very easily end up killing a large number of Mowry. How do you think they’ll react if even a single AOH warship falls to the surface and destroys an entire city?”
“I won’t argue that point,” Sorbith said. “But I see no other alternative. Are there any other suggestions?”
Several other ideas were discussed including one involving a Tholtaran Juggernaut but in the end, it was Sorbith’s plan that was adopted. The fleet would move into the system and disable the AOH warships as quickly as possible taking care to target the ship’s weapons and shield generators.
As the meeting broke up, Tom approached Sorbith. “I’d like permission to head back to the Mowry system. I want to get as close as I can to try to pick up any of their transmissions.”
“Good idea. Are you feeling okay?”
“I think I’m experiencing cybershock,” Tom admitted.
“Ah! I was wondering if you had dealt with that malady yet. It hit me pretty hard about two years after I left the academy.”
“I can imagine,” Tom replied. “You had to give up a lot more than myself to become a Peacekeeper. What did you do about it?”
“It was a sacrifice I was willing to make and I have not regretted that decision. I dealt with it by immersing myself in my work. I still miss some sensations that aren’t duplicated in my cybernetics, but that’s the price we all pay to become Peacekeepers. You should be fine in a few weeks.”
Using his biolink, Tom instructed his ship to dock with the Dragon as soon as possible. On the way back to his stateroom, he encountered Bill Owens. “Hey Tom!” Bill yelled from the other end of the passageway. Tom was instantly annoyed but stopped anyway.
Bill waited until he was within easy talking distance before asking, “Where are you headed?”
“Back to my stateroom to grab my stuff,” Tom replied, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “I’m heading back to the Orion.”
“Hey, that might just work out then,” Bill said, a huge smile appearing on his face.
“What are you talking about?” Tom asked, as Bill fell in behind him.
“I want to talk to you about joining the Peacekeepers. I’d love to have a look inside your ship.”
Tom abruptly stopped, causing Bill to nearly run into him. “Why? Why do you want to join the Peacekeepers?”
“Why not?” Bill replied, becoming defensive. “Don’t you think I would make a good Peacekeeper?”
Tom spun around and continued on his way. Turning his head and raising his voice so Bill could hear him, Tom said, “You must have a good reason to want to join. I became a Peacekeeper because I enjoy helping others. I was a damn good communications tech and I was happy with my job, but I wanted more. Your life will change more than you can imagine if you become a Peacekeeper.”
They arrived at Tom’s stateroom. Bill talked while Tom gathered up his few personal items. “I like helping people too. I get anxious when I see someone breaking the law. As a Peacekeeper, I would be in a position to stop them. Besides,” his voice indicating he was being light-hearted, “you get to cruise around in your own ship.”
Holding his arms away from his body, Tom said, "Take a good look at me Bill. I am more machine than man. Even though I can tell you exactly what the temperature is in this room, I will never again be able to enjoy the feeling of a warm sun beating down on my bare skin. I can survive in the vacuum of space or at the bottom of a lake, yet I am denied the simple pleasure of taking a hot relaxing shower. I can still make love to a woman, but—"
Tom interrupted himself in response to a warning from his ship. "You are presenting a negative impression as a result of your cybershock."
"I realize there are certain sacrifices that must be made," Bill said. "You seemed pretty happy when you first showed back up here."
"Sorry," Tom replied after a moment to collect his thoughts. "I'm still feeling the effects of cybershock." After looking around the room to see if he had forgotten anything, he motioned toward the door and said, "Come on, I'll show you my ship."
Bill followed him through the passageways until they came to the docking port. This time there was no crowd to see him off. They cycled through the airlock and entered the Orion. Bill kept silent as the tour progressed until they reached Tom’s stateroom. Bill spotted the incomplete carving laying on the worktable and walked over to get a closer look. Gently picking it up, he turned it over. “Is this the Dragon?”
Tom nodded his head. “I’m not quite done with it. It’s not very good I’m afraid.”
“Are you kidding?” Bill replied, setting the carving down as if it would explode if he bumped it too hard. “I love it. I didn’t know you could carve.”
“I have a lot of free time,” Tom said. “You can only lose so many games of chess or watch so many movies before you start to get bored. The Orion suggested I learn how to carve. It’s been fun actually.”
Bill took a moment to look around the room, then said, “I want an honest answer Tom, are you happy with your decision? Do you like being a Peacekeeper?”
“I don’t regret my decision,” Tom replied after a moment. “There are times when I miss my old life, mostly when I’m bored out of my skull, but you can have that with almost any occupation. I really feel like I’m doing something more with my life now.”
“So…how do I apply?”
“You just did.”
“I did? Just like that?”
Tom headed for the door. “That’s it. If the Peacekeepers are interested, they’ll be in touch. Took them three years in my case.”
“Is there anything I can do to improve my chance of being selected?”
“No. Just continue to be yourself. In fact, that’s probably the best thing you can do. Don’t try to be something you’re not. The Peacekeepers want you, not who you think you should be.”
The two friends parted company at the airlock and a few minutes later, the Orion undocked. Tom sat in his command chair listening to the sounds of his ship as the vessel drifted in space. After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, Tom said, “Orion, calculate a trajectory that will take us to within 500,000 kilometers of the Mowry homeworld at sublight speed no matter where we drop out of FTL.”
“How fast do you wish to be moving relative to the planet?”
“About 15 kilometers per second,” Tom replied, after doing some quick math in his head. “If we drop to normal ten million kilometers out, it’ll take us about eight days to reach closest approach.”
Following the Orion’s calculations, Tom pointed his ship in the correct direction and applied an acceleration of 17G’s for precisely 120 seconds. That set his velocity relative to the planet at 15 kilometers per second in a specific direction. Next, he engaged the stardrive and moved his ship until it was approaching the planet at the correct trajectory. Now, no matter when he dropped out of stardrive, his momentum would carry him past the planet.
Two hours later and 11 million kilometers from the Mowry homeworld, his sensors picked up three AOH warships on an in
tercept. This was his clue to drop back to normal space and engage his cloak. Unfortunately, at this distance, it would take longer to reach the planet, a little over eight days to be precise. After shutting down all nonessential systems, Tom began scanning all possible electromagnetic frequencies.
For four days, he patiently waited as his ship searched for Mowry transmissions. Although he could pick up a great deal of ship-to-ship and ship-to-surface chatter, all of it was based on advanced technology, heavily encrypted, and therefore useless. Finally, a faint radio-frequency signal was detected. It was quickly followed by several more. Tom worked with the ship’s computer to figure out the Mowry modulation scheme and soon they were listening in on a wide variety of alien broadcasts.
The more powerful signals were being transmitted in Galactic Standard. After listening to them, he concluded that they were operated by the Purists, serving as a sort of public information system spewing forth a steady stream of propaganda concerning the superiority of humans. Some of what he heard bothered him. The discovery however, gave him hope that his job of establishing contact with the Mowry would be a lot easier than he first assumed.
As he moved closer to the planet, he began picking up weaker signals. Most of them were conversations in a language the Orion could not identify. These were few in number and at a far lower power level than the Purist transmitters.
On the seventh day of his vigil, the tactical net linking his ship to the rest of the Alliance fleet suddenly became very active. One of the Rouldian interceptors detected a group of incoming warships. Tom was in his stateroom working on his nearly complete carving of the Komodo Dragon when the Orion alerted him to the activity.
As he rushed to the command center, the ship filled him in. “Seventy-six vessels are approaching at high speed. Drive-wake is AOH. All have been preliminarily classified as destroyers. It is unclear at the moment if they intend to attack.”
