Peacekeeper

by Doug Farren

  “Remain cloaked,” Tom ordered as he settled into the command chair. If the warships continued on their present course, they would pass well beyond his current location. With his ship cloaked, he was without a shield or any means to generate one. The small auxiliary fusion reactor currently powering his systems was incapable of providing enough power to generate a shield. It would take a few minutes to restart the main reactor and in doing so, his position would be revealed.

  The incoming warships failed to respond to any attempts at communication. They continued in a straight line toward the planet, ignoring the small group of Alliance ships. Sorbith, acting as Fleet Commander, allowed them to pass without challenge. “They must have recalled all their ships from Alliance space,” Tom said.

  “I agree,” the ship replied.

  “Any hope yet of finding a Mowry translation?”

  “No. Without any video transmissions to reference, I do not believe a translation is possible. I have determined that there are at least three separate languages in use in various parts of the planet.”

  “No video,” Tom mused. “You’d think that after 50 plus years the Purists would have given the Mowry the technology or the Mowry would have developed it on their own.”

  “Unless the Purists are deliberately keeping the Mowry from advancing their own development.”

  Tom was always amazed as to how well the AI carried out a conversation. It behaved more like an actual person than a computer. He was doubly amazed when the machine came to startling conclusions like the one it had just presented. “Why would they do that?” Tom asked.

  “Perhaps the Mowry are not quite as accepting of the Purists as we have been led to believe.”

  Chapter 37

  As the Orion plunged deeper into the Mowry system, the chances of being discovered increased. Tom took to spending most of his time in the command center in case one of the AOH ships got lucky. On several occasions, he nervously watched as an AOH destroyer passed within a few thousand kilometers. Had they been actively scanning they would have spotted him.

  The closer he got to the planet, the stranger it became. The Orion’s sensitive passive instrumentation presented a tale of two wildly different cultures existing side by side on the same world. The majority of the planet seemed to run on coal-burning technology. Cities were easily identified by the thick layers of soot that hung in the air. There were very few electromagnetic emissions from these areas.

  In stark contrast to the rest of the planet, there were areas of electromagnetic activity that stood out like searchlights among the rest of the gloom. Five compact areas situated in widely separated locations on the planet showed signs of modern industrial activity—a lot of it. Small fusion reactors powered these islands of technology. Tom could only shake his head in amazement as the data poured in.

  As he passed his closest approach to the planet, he had an idea. Because of his position near the planet, he would be able to provide the fleet with detailed tactical data they would otherwise not possess. The Orion’s cloak was able to hide the emissions of his sublight drive but only at very small power levels. Checking his engineering section, Tom calculated he had enough power available to give him a deceleration of almost a quarter of a gravity.

  A little over an hour and a half later, the Orion was nearly motionless in space relative to the Mowry homeworld. This put Tom in an extremely vulnerable position. He was deep inside hostile territory with most of his systems powered down. This included his main reactor that powered his shield generator. It would take time to turn these systems back on.

  “Tom,” the ship began, “Please take a look at the data presented on monitor two.”

  He had been staring at the tactical display, keeping a close watch on the movements of the Purist ships in his vicinity. Glancing to his left, he saw the image of one of the space-docks on the indicated monitor. As one would expect, there was an AOH warship inside the dock. A swarm of tiny, robotic, spacecraft moved about the ship’s hull. Tom looked at the monitor and the associated tactical data but couldn’t see anything that would have triggered the ship’s computer to alert him.

  “Note the condition of the ship inside the dock,” the computer prompted.

  “It’s complete,” Tom said, still confused. “Looks like it’s in the final stages of being outfitted.”

  “Agreed,” the machine replied. “The other three space-docks also contain completed vessels.”

  “Okay—so the Purists build three ships at once and launch them all within a day or so of each other. That’s not so unusual.”

  “Please take a closer look at the space-docks. I do not believe they are configured to assemble a starship. All three space-docks appear to be designed for fast final outfitting using components brought up from the surface.”

  Tom felt his gut implode as he suddenly realized what the computer was trying to tell him. Leaning forward, he scanned the image with a critical eye. He magnified it and looked closer. The Orion was right! The shipyards orbiting the planet could not possibly have built the destroyers. The Purists must have a hidden shipyard somewhere else. Sorbith would need to be told as soon as possible but transmitting a message right now would be like sending up a flare telling the Purists that he was sitting on their doorstep.

  “Maintain communication silence,” he ordered. “Flag this in the tactical buffer as priority.”

  He almost ordered the Orion to begin moving out of the system but changed his mind. The risk of detection was too great and there was a good tactical advantage of his current position. The fleet would be arriving soon and would begin their attack. He stood a better chance of escaping if he waited until then.

  * * * * *

  Sorbith stood next to Rear Admiral Randy Cornelius. Both men appeared to be semi-transparent ghosts floating in the depths of space. In reality, Sorbith was sitting in his command chair aboard the Tri-Star while the Admiral was standing in a full spectrum simulator ball on the Tripoli, the fleet’s flagship. The Tripoli was one of the latest command cruisers equipped with the facilities to direct a fleet of warships.

  The simulator ball was exactly that—a large sphere with the Admiral inside. The ball rested on rollers and could move under the occupant’s feet. The Admiral was dressed in a full simulation suit that not only provided him with tactile feedback but also allowed him to interact with the virtual environment as if it were real. Sorbith, on the other hand, did not require such equipment. His ship’s AI was fully capable of altering his perception of reality through the neural connections of his cybernetics allowing him to interact with the virtual environment just as well as the Admiral.

  Sorbith entered a command into a virtual keyboard and the pair of ghosts seemed to move deeper into the Mowry star system. Drawing on the sensor data collected by every ship in the fleet, the computer powering the simulation was able to display a vast array of information concerning every ship and object in range. Colored icons and numbers indicated the position, type, and relative velocity of every vessel under the Admiral’s command.

  “All ships report ready,” the voice of the communications operator announced.

  “Very well,” Cornelius replied. “Any word from the Purists?”

  “None Sir. They have not responded to any of our requests for communication.”

  Sorbith let out a sigh as he gave the Admiral a worried look. He was not happy about this. The Mowry didn’t ask to be caught up in an armed conflict between two forces deploying weapons they could only dream of building. Although it pained him, he did agree with the Grand Council’s decision to force the eviction of the Purists from the Mowry homeworld. But, they had proven themselves a menace to the Alliance and simply ignoring them would only give them the opportunity to build more warships.

  The Admiral waited until he saw Sorbith’s nod of approval then motioned with his hand causing a control panel to appear. Touching one of the buttons, he was instantly put in touch with the entire fleet. “Admiral Cornelius to all vessels:
our primary goal is to disable the AOH warships with as little loss of life as possible. With that in mind, commence the attack.”

  The Alliance fleet had assembled at a distance of 50 million kilometers from the target. The Purists had reacted by moving their ships closer to the planet. At Sorbith’s command, the fleet began moving in for the attack. Ten minutes later, the communications watch said, “Incoming transmission from the planet.”

  A blinking icon appeared floating in space between the Admiral and Sorbith. “This is your ballgame,” the Admiral said.

  Sorbith reached out and touched the icon causing it to expand into a simulated display monitor. On it was the face of an alien neither Sorbith nor his ship could identify—a Mowry. Its head was elongated with a large, thin-lipped mouth, a flat nose, two pointed ears that seemed capable of independent movement, and a pair of large green eyes.

  “I am Peacekeeper Sorbith. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  “I am Shinrath Mo’Tegth,” the Mowry said. His voice was deep and he spoke in a slow, deliberate manner. “I am King of Gwon-go and King of all Kings. You are not wanted here. We have accepted the Pure Ones and wish them to remain. I speak for all Mowry—leave us.”

  Sorbith had to walk a fine line between the wishes of the Grand Council and Alliance law. His ship’s AI was programmed to enforce the Council’s decisions as long as those decisions did not conflict with the law. In this matter, the law was a bit cloudy. The presence of the Purists was a clear violation but the law also stated that if an alien race chose to remain separate from the Alliance, their request would be granted. In this particular instance, the complex legal system under which the Alliance operated seemed to be in conflict.

  “The Alliance recognizes your right to remain separate from us and we will honor that request,” Sorbith replied, speaking slowly and annunciating his words carefully. “But our laws forbid the Purists from remaining. They are human, a species which is a member of the Alliance and therefore subject to Alliance law. They must leave.”

  “The Pure Ones have rejected your Alliance and no longer wish to remain a part of it. We have accepted them into our society. This star system is not part of the Alliance and your laws are not recognized here.”

  “The Pure Ones, as you call them, are known to us as the Army of Humanity. They have broken many of our laws and must answer for their actions. They have most likely given you false information concerning us. We are a peaceful organization of many cultures. The AOH is a terrorist organization that uses violence and force to achieve its goals.”

  “We stand firm in our commitment to the Pure Ones. As King of Kings, ruler of all Gwon-go, I order you to leave. There will be no further discussion.”

  The image vanished along with the monitor screen. It was replaced by the blackness of space studded by the icons indicating the ships of the fleet. “What are your orders?” the Admiral asked.

  “We proceed,” Sorbith said after a moment. “In the meantime, I will send a transcript of that conversation to Centralis and see if the Grand Council wants to change their mind. We’re certainly not getting off on the right foot with the Mowry.”

  One of the features that made the Tripoli unique was the inclusion of an advanced FTL communications transceiver. Using Kyrra technology, the transceiver could blast a signal through space at nearly three million times the speed of light with a range of almost 300 light years. Centralis was 210 light years away making the one-way trip a 40-minute journey. The battle plan called for the fleet to accelerate at 100 gravities for an hour and then coast for almost three hours before decelerating and attacking. There was plenty of time for Centralis to reply.

  * * * * *

  Tom sat in his command chair deep in thought. He had intercepted the conversation between Sorbith and Shinrath Mo’Tegth and something about it was bothering him. “Orion, replay the conversation between Sorbith and the Mowry King.”

  The ship instantly complied, sending the video feed directly to his eyes instead of putting it on one of the monitors. Tom watched and listened and then ordered the ship to replay it again. “Stop!” he yelled, causing the image on the screen to instantly freeze. “Go back five seconds and loop the next ten.”

  The indicated segment repeated itself twice before Tom said, “Did you see that? Play it again at half speed and watch his eyes and ears.”

  Sorbith’s image appeared and in slow motion said, “…uses violence and force to achieve their goals.”

  As Sorbith finished speaking, Tom watched as the King’s eyes momentarily looked to one side. At the same time, his ears flicked and focused towards the same spot just to the right of the camera pickup. At this speed, there was a very noticeable delay before the King began his reply, “We stand firm…”

  “Stop,” Tom ordered. “He was looking at someone. Do you think he was being coerced?”

  “Nothing is known of Mowry physiology,” the ship replied. “It is impossible for me to conclude anything from the King’s facial expressions during the conversation. Your hypothesis, however, appears to be valid in that the King seems to have briefly focused his attention on someone or something just to the right of the camera lens. I do not believe this is evidence of coercion though.”

  “Play the entire conversation again at three-quarters speed.”

  Halfway through the conversation, the ship interrupted its playback. “Something is happening on the surface. I am picking up small energy discharges in a city near one of the technologically enhanced areas of the planet. This was preceded by a marked increase in Mowry radio traffic from the same area.”

  “Weapons fire?”

  “Eighty-six point nine percent probability.”

  Tom manipulated his controls so he could listen in on the indicated radio traffic. Although he could not understand the language, the voices he heard sounded very different from those he had listened to earlier. These were short, emotion-filled clips of conversation—like something one would expect to hear during a firefight.

  “Two AOH destroyers are moving into position above the disturbance,” the Orion reported.

  Tom listened as the apparent battle raged below. Fifteen minutes went by before the radio signals began to fade as the planet’s rotation took them over the horizon. “I wonder what is—”

  Tom was interrupted by a signal from the planet on the same channel the King had used earlier. “Alliance fleet!” an excited voice yelled in barely understandable Galactic Standard. “You have been deceived, the people—” static abruptly replaced the image and voice of the Mowry.

  “Jamming from the warships,” the ship announced. “Compensating.”

  The video reappeared but it was choppy and barely discernible. The accompanying audio was tinny, full of loud pops and whistles, but understandable. “…leaders have enslaved the people. We have been waiting for your arrival for years. We have taken control of the palace but won’t be able to hold it for long. Help us. Alliance fleet! You—”

  Tom muted the transmission. “Will the fleet be able to receive their transmission?”

  “Negative,” the Orion instantly replied. “I have been able to compensate for the jamming because of our close proximity to the transmitter.”

  “Emergency restart of all systems!” Tom ordered. “Set FTL transmitter to full power.”

  “Commencing restart. Transmitter power set to full.”

  Tom’s fingers danced across his console, setting the FTL transceiver frequency to that of the Mowry transmission. “This is Peacekeeper Wilks to the Mowry. I have received your transmission. Are any of your people aboard the warships?”

  The message suddenly stopped and was replaced by an excited voice, “No! Can you help us?”

  “We will try. Get to somewhere safe.”

  “Thank—” the signal abruptly cut off.

  “Several warships are heading in this direction,” the Orion reported. “They are actively scanning.”

  Tom's eyes quickly ran over his control board. The m
ain reactor would have its fusion fire ignited in a few seconds, allowing him to raise his shield. It would require several more to reach full effectiveness. A warning suddenly appeared on his main tactical monitor—one of the warships had a lock on his position.

  Tom’s hands flew over the controls, entering commands far faster than he could have given them to the computer to execute. “Transmit the SITREP buffer!” he said.

  The Orion’s cloak vanished and the sublight drive suddenly activated, pulling as much power as it could from the ship’s power grid. Luckily, the AOH did not possess any FTL-enhanced weapons and the energy beam that had been meant to terminate his existence passed harmlessly into space less than a meter from his hull. The tiny fraction of a second necessary for light to travel between himself and the warship had saved him.

  The computer controlling the energy beam noted the change in the Orion’s position as well as its trajectory and instantly corrected the weapon’s aim. The powerful laser drew a glowing line across the Orion’s armor creating a deep scar in its surface. As the ship’s shield formed around it, the beam broke through the armor, penetrating the ship’s skin and allowing it access to the vulnerable interior. The air around the breach became superheated igniting every flammable item in the vicinity.

  Alarms and warning appeared on Tom’s console as the ship’s internal damage control systems extinguished the flames and worked to seal the leak. The damaged compartment sealed itself off from the rest of the ship. With his shield at full strength, Tom overloaded the ship’s acceleration compensators as he ramped the sublight engines to maximum power, pressing him into his seat with the force of eight gravities.

  More lasers locked on, challenging his shield, but the distance between himself and the attackers was now quickly growing and the energy level striking his shield dropped. Satisfied he was safe for the moment, he checked on the condition of his ship. According to the damage control report only one compartment had been affected—his stateroom.