by Trevor Wyatt
Right in front of their eyes, a second occupant of the vessel came into view, handing over some sort of device. It disappeared from view, allowing the crew to watch as the humanoid creature put the device over his neck like a neck brace.
The creature began to speak … in English.
“Yes. I was responsible for the destruction of the craft you speak of.”
At first, he was not sure about what he just heard. Was he admitting to understanding Jeryl’s question, or was he admitting to a crime that led them down a five-year path of blood and fire with an innocent race? He wondered if the device, which now appeared to be a translator, might be faulty.
“You look surprised?” the creature said, blinking several times in a minute.
“Did you just admit to destroying our ship?” he asked. He wasn’t about to start another war over some faulty translator.
“Yes, I destroyed the ship,” it said again.
Anger began to build inside Jeryl. “Do you understand the ramifications of that?”
“I understand. Very well,” it replied.
“State the reason or reasons for which you harmed an innocent starship,” he demanded, allowing his anger to modulate his voice. “And your reasons better be good.”
“Innocent?” the creature said. “You call them innocent? They were not innocent. They transgressed our laws and paid the ultimate price with their life.”
The creature then emitted a series of hacking laughter that carried the weight of an ominous tone.
“What laws?” he said, trying to catch up to his (if he was, in fact, a he) reasoning.
“The Terran Union or the Terran Armada wasn’t informed of any wrongdoing by either its ship or captain. Neither were we invited to any criminal proceeding that ended in a death penalty. As such, you had no right to execute them.”
Jeryl was having a hard time keeping his anger under control, and he knew it. But this had been a long time coming. All he wanted to do was send a barrage of torpedoes and lasers in the ship’s direction. He might not be able to destroy it, sure; but he could at least damage it, which would provide him with some level of satisfaction.
Before the alien replied, he glanced at the communications officer and muttered to her, “I hope this is being recorded?”
She gave him a slight nod and he returned his focus to the creature.
“We have no laws, but the laws we make for ourselves,” it said. “Your ship was found desecrating this nebula. For that crime, she was destroyed.”
A question quickly popped into his mind: How does one desecrate a nebula? He didn’t ask that question right away, though. He waited for a while, processing what the creature was telling him and deciding on his best course of action.
The Mariner was gone. Starting a war with these people wasn’t going to bring them back. Perhaps, the five-year war of attrition they waged against the Sonali had effectively bled them dry. They couldn’t afford another costly war with something as powerful as what he saw before him. He had to proceed with caution.
This wasn’t the time for torpedoes, but for diplomacy.
“We assure you, The Mariner wasn’t sent to this nebula to desecrate it. The Mariner possessed limited offensive capability, except the ones necessary to weather an asteroid belt or to destroy an obstacle in its path. The Mariner could never have posed a threat to you. I tell you, you’ve wrongfully executed judgment and killed innocent people.”
“You misunderstand me, Captain,” the creature replies. “They desecrated our nebula by trying to probe. You see, many, many millennia ago, our home world was destroyed by an alien race much more advanced than us. To survive, we migrated from that world to space.
“We moved from system to system in search of a suitable home until we came to this nebula. We have grown and thrived in the relative peace and silence of this nebula, and we have laid our claim to it. Your science vessel broke that silence by invading our territory. They were trying to learn about us. For this, they were destroyed.”
“So you destroyed our people because they were trying to learn about this nebula and about you?” he asked. He wanted to be sure they heard everything clearly and that nothing was morphed by anecdotes or emotion.
“Indeed,” the creature replied. “We wanted to protect our privacy. To guard against those who would see us destroyed again. This is my job as Viceroy, to ensure the continued survival of my species. The only way I can achieve this is by keeping our existence a secret. I could not let your ship leave this place with the knowledge of our existence. So I had to destroy it.”
Jeryl frowned. He was uncomfortable with the moral compass on this creature. How could they dole out wanton destruction on a harmless ship without scruples?
“If I heard you correctly, you said you migrated to space?” he said. “What did you mean by that? Did you build space stations?”
“No,” it replied. “We built big space ships.”
“So you live on these space ships?” he asked.
“Yes,” it said. “There are only five of these ships remaining. They are enough for us for now.”
“If you have ships, why couldn’t you people move to another nebula?” he probed further. “Why destroy our ship?”
“Because we have lived here for so long we are unwilling to move again,” it replied. “Sometimes we set up on asteroids and use our ships to keep the asteroids in place … this place. But ultimately we live in our ships and this is where our ships belong. This place is now our heritage.”
Jeryl was about to ask another question when it said, “And this brings me to what I really have to say. I will do whatever it takes to protect my people. I encountered a Captain Davan of The Mariner. I took the form of a Sonali using the same technology that allowed me to pose as your vessel. I spoke of peace and trade.
“And then I destroyed them. I hope you will understand the reason why I must destroy you also. You have found us. You know our secret. I cannot allow you to possess this knowledge and go away from you. It pains me, deeply, but I must destroy you as well. Your ship and your entire crew have to die.”
“You can’t…”
The creature vanished from the screen.
“Captain, the signal has been terminated.”
“Get him back!” he yelled, pounding his fist into my chair. His heart was racing.
I have just led my people into a death trap, he thought.
“Captain, they are not responding to our hails,” the communications officer said.
“Captain, I’m picking up a building surge of emerging in specific areas of the ship,” said the tactical officer. “This energy signature is akin to the one Dr. Lannigan defines as destructive and with the same exact electromagnetic signature found on The Mariner debris. Captain … I think they are charging their weapons.”
“Evasive maneuvers!” he yelled for the second time.
The navigator, whose hands were light on the control, threw The Seeker into a dangerous deep dive. The inertia dampers strained as it attempted to maintain gravity. Jeryl latched on to his seat. Many of the officers in the CNC were thrown away from their stations. The navigator and tactical officer, however, endured where they were, coordinating the ship’s response.
Jeryl watched as a flood of light leapt out of the alien vessel and lanced through space to where they previously occupied. Then, he felt a sharp jolt.
“We were hit, sir!” the tactical officer announced.
“Damage report,” he said.
“Minimal, sir,” Ashley replied. “Our shield surprisingly bore the brunt of the impact.”
“Sir, shields are down to seventy-five percent,” the tactical officer announced. “The ship is charging again!”
“Evade, lieutenant,” he said to the navigator. Then to the tactical officer, he said, “Get ready to fire at their stern. Photon torpedo.”
“Aye, captain,” the tactical officer said.
The next few shots missed them by a wide berth.
“Captain, I think we need to reconsider our action,” Ashley said. “These people are afraid. They are scared. They have had minimal contact with the known world, so all they know to do is destroy what comes their way.
“The Mariner didn’t have our defensive capabilities that was why it was fried. Now that we do, instead of destroying them, let’s try and reason with them. The war we have with the Sonali is one too many. Perhaps…they said they live on their ships. Who knows how many are on that ship. A billion. Two?”
It dawned on Jeryl the path they were going.
They were about to invade. Maybe they would die. Maybe they would get out in one piece. If they do, he would file a report with Armada Command, and then four hundred starships would be dispatched from Edoris Station—to take out the next enemy.
If they died, then the starship captains that were hailing them would report back.
More blood.
More war.
It had to stop somewhere. It had to stop here.
“You’re right, Commander,” he said, suddenly realizing he could just make a powerful new step for all of humanity. Even if they all die here, he couldn’t have that happen. Even if his legacy were a sham, at least he would go down knowing that he did the best he could.
“Tactical, belay last order. Switch primary weapons to particle beams and target their primary engine,” he said.
They were in the middle of a dive to port when he gave the order to fire. Bright blue bolts shot out from underneath them and hit their targets. The ship before them shuddered visibly and he saw a cascade of explosions underneath and behind the ship.
“Bring us around to face them,” he said to navigation.
“Captain, it appears your plan was unsuccessful,” Dr. Taft said. “The primary engine that feeds the propulsion and weapons is still operational. I’m detecting an incredible buildup of energy. They’re about to fire their most powerful weapon.”
Shit!
At that moment, the rest of the Armada’s fleet materialized all around their ship
“Great! The cavalry,” he said to the communications officer. “Send them a notification that the ship is armed, dangerous and aggressive. Tell them to shoot to damage not—“
At that moment, the navigator sent The Seeker into a forward spin to avoid a shot from the alien ship. His words hung in his mouth at the bold maneuver and almost sent the content of his stomach upwards.
“Sir, that blast just took out two of our ships!” said the tactical officer.
“What do you mean took out two of our ships?” he said. He looked at the view screen where he saw the two ships breaking apart in flames, bodies floating around—dead.
“Fire at will!” he yelled.
The screen lit up with blasts as The Seeker and the rest of the fleet opened up on the ship. The alien ship was able to get off another powerful blast that destroyed two more Armada ships before it was damaged.
“Give the order for the fleet to hold off their attack,” he said.
The fleet responded, holding fire. The alien ship, now incapacitated, floated adrift in the midst of the Terran Armada.
“Contact the ship,” he said to his communications officer. “Maybe now they’ll listen to what we have to say.”
The creature loomed into view. Jeryl saw fear in its eyes. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but the expression he saw was fear.
They must be thinking we’re going to destroy them, he thought to himself.
“If we continue at this rate,” he said to the creature. “You will be destroyed. And we don’t even know your name and the name of your people.”
This was it—war or words.
“My name is Commander Ullian of the Nakra,” it said.
“Look, Commander Ullian,” he began. “You’ve destroyed four of my ships. I’m obligated to destroy yours, but I’m not going to. I want to give us a chance at peace. I give you the assurance of the Terran Union, which is the government I represent, that we will not exploit your people, nor will we invade or colonize your ships or asteroids or wherever the Nakra people reside.”
“How do we know you tell the Nakra people the truth?” Commander Ulian said. “There are barely fifty thousand of us left in the universe.”
He flashed a side-glance to Ashley. So much for one billion.
“The Terran Union doesn’t do genocide,” he replied. “It’s our purpose to prevent war and stop killing—not perpetuate it.”
The Nakra Commander remained calm for a while. Jeryl watched his eyes blink more times than usual in a second, and he assumed the alien was considering his implicit proposal.
He continued. “A little over one hundred and fifty years ago, my people suffered a near extinction level event the same as yours did,” he said with a sigh.
He wiped his brows and chose his words carefully. “Only, we weren’t almost wiped out because of an alien species. We did that to ourselves.”
The Nakra Commander widened his eyes. It looked like that was the universal sign for amazement at another’s stupidity.
“We used weapons of mass destruction on our own population, and we killed two fifths of our own race,” Jeryl said and paused. “We murdered 3.2 billion of our own people on our own home world.”
“You did this to yourselves? Less than two hundred eclipses ago?” Ullian asked. “And you ask us to believe in your capacity for peace?”
Jeryl sighed. The man had a point.
“We came out to space to survive what we had done to ourselves and to rebuild,” Jery replied back. “And we promised ourselves that we would never again go down the path that we had nearly finished. We would never again commit genocide on ourselves. Or each other.”
Jeryl had patched in; he knew the other captains in the fleet could hear him.
“We’ve learned our lessons, Ullian,” he said. “Our exploration of space is my species’ rallying cry that we can do better. That we must do better. And each day is a reminder that we will never go down that path again.”
There was a long silence. Jeryl could feel the eyes of the CNC crew on him.
Sure, he might have had just gone in and psychoanalyzed the human race. But it made sense to him now. More than why the Wolf Offensive did. More than the war.
Humanity could do better. They had to do better.
“We accept your offer of peace,” the Commander said with a final tone. “Thank you.”
The creature vanished from the screen.
Well, that was easy, he thought to himself.
If the Sonali liked acting like politicians, these Nakra seemed to take things at face-value.
The Sonali, he realized. They needed stop a war before it took a dangerous turn.
“Contact all ships,” he told Taylor. “Tell them it’s over. Send over a recording of my dealings with the Nakra and let them know I’ve just brokered peace between us and them.”
Taylor nodded and set to work on that.
“How long for repairs to be effected and concluded? Just so we’re operational?” he asked Ashley.
“Forty-five minutes, max,” she replied, after consulting her console.
“Shoot for twenty,” he said. “We have a genocide to stop—and time is running out.”
Chapter 15
Jeryl
Jeryl stood in his office, watching the view screen that was linked to the main one in the CNC. He drummed his fingertips against his thigh as he stared into the vastness of space, the hull of The Seeker the only thing cutting through the darkness.
They were racing against time. There was no other way to put it. If he didn’t make it in time, he would be responsible for the slaughter of a billion people—genocide.
He really didn’t have a plan. He didn’t even know if the fact that the Sonali weren’t responsible for the destruction of The Mariner would change the outcome of the war. The war was now being fueled by the burning desire of the Sonali to see mankind wiped out of the surface of the universe and by the human’s deep-seated hatred
for the Sonali people. Like a lit bush that spread to engulf an entire forest, the conflict may had reached the point of no return.
Still, he had to try. If he didn’t, then the point of no return would be long behind them. But how did he stop this? How did he prevent the deaths of a billion of Sonali in one fell swoop?
How did he get two warring races, which had been so hell-bent on destroying each other, to consider the option of peace? That was why he was inside his office—he had taken time off the CNC to review his options.
Jeryl had been here for more time than he intended, and he still didn’t have a credible plan. And yet he knew he must stop the Wolf Offensive. If it pushed through, it would be the one blunder that history would never forgive humanity for.
They had learned that there were more intelligent species in the universe. They had already fought with two: the Sonali and the Nakra. There were many more: some were large regional powers that they discovered had borders intersecting humanity’s like the Drupadi Regime, the Children of Zorm, the Tyreesian Collective, the Reznak Empire. Others were non-aligned and much more provincial. They stayed out of their “little” war with the Sonali to probably judge their advancement as a species.
If they went ahead to commit this great atrocity…well, who knew what might happen? As far as Jeryl knew, if the Wolf Offensive happened, they could be opening up a Pandora’s Box that heralded an age of unmitigated warfare.
That’d be just great, wouldn’t it?
Welcome humanity to the galactic community of species—but unlike other races who entered peacefully, humanity would usher in an era of conflict. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He could feel a migraine brewing inside his skull.
Ashley was in CNC, managing the final repair efforts. Apparently, the forty-five minutes repair time she had given him right after they defeated the Nakra ship was to get the FTL drive working. After that, she had to begin repairs on the affected decks that were attacked by the blast. He looked up on his tablet and saw her report saying that the ship was up to 86% functionality. She estimated that full functionality would require another full day.
