Starhold's Fate

by J. Alan Field

  “All Sarissans are liars!” roared a woman next to Callen.

  “I don’t believe that!” shouted Yunru Lin stepping forward to speak—and to shield Bettencourt as best she could with her small body. “I’ve shadowed Carr and Sanchez for weeks. I’ve dealt with them personally. When I was hurt, they could have had me tossed into jail. Instead, they patched me up—tried to help me. I believe them.”

  “What about the Admiral?” Callen asked Carr. “Does he get a clean slate too?”

  “Yes,” said Carr without hesitation, but still no one moved. It was time to take a real leap of faith. “Lieutenant McDowell,” Carr called out to the platoon commander.

  “Right here, sir,” declared a young officer about eight meters to Carr’s left.

  “Order your Marines to place their weapons at their feet.”

  “Sir? Major Carr, you can’t be serious,” resisted the skeptical lieutenant.

  “Do it!” barked Carr. McDowell nodded to his people and they grudgingly complied.

  It was a risk, but not as much as it seemed. The Marines were still wearing light armor. Even if some of the Gerrhans took advantage of the situation and fired, they would have to be very good or very lucky to do serious damage before all of the Marines quickly had their weapons back in their hands.

  Bettencourt’s voice came from behind Lin, who moved to stand beside Sanchez.

  “Everybody, put down your weapons,” said the Admiral. “The Massang are the enemy. Dansby is the enemy. Our war with the Sarissans ended years ago. Place your weapons on the floor.”

  The woman next to Callen started to raise her gun, only to be grabbed by her stocky comrade.

  “Don’t be a fool,” said Callen as another man swiftly took the plasma rifle from her hands and laid it on the floor.

  The woman was sobbing. “Damn Sarissans. I hate them, I hate them! Damn them all to bloody hell!” she whimpered as she collapsed into one of the other men’s arms.

  Callen looked first at Bettencourt, then at Carr. “Permission for our people to withdraw, sir.” It wasn’t clear just which man he was addressing, but that didn’t matter.

  “All of you go back to ArcoWright,” ordered Bettencourt. “Lin and I will be along shortly.”

  The Gerrhans slowly trooped out of the warehouse under the watchful eyes of the Marine Raiders, their weapons still at their feet as per Carr’s orders. He didn’t want any last second incident to mess up his deal. Not far away, Bettencourt huddled with Yunru Lin.

  “With respect, Major, are you sure about this?” asked Lieutenant McDowell as he approached Carr and Sanchez.

  “These people aren’t criminals, Lieutenant,” Sanchez said. “They are just people trying to live their lives. We should let them be about it.”

  She turned to Lin and gave her a friendly touch on the shoulder. “How’s your side?”

  “Good enough to help you get Dansby. I want to go with you.”

  “What can you tell us about him?” asked Carr.

  Bettencourt used the controls on his hoverchair to move closer. He extended his hand, a data crystal held between thumb and index finger. “For you, Major Carr. Everything my organization has on Samson Dansby.”

  “He has a compound about fifteen klicks west of Prosperity City,” said Lin. “Operates from an old mansion, one of the first private homes ever built on Pontus—the old Ortelli Manor. The place is like a fortress, but I know some back doors. I can get us in.”

  “How’s that?” asked Carr. “How do you know so much about his place?”

  Bettencourt spoke up. “My doing, I’m afraid. Lin has been keeping an eye on Dansby for me. It was only a matter of time before I had to move against him, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it. Now…”

  “Now you’ve found some suckers to help you,” Carr finished his thought, although probably not in the same manner Bettencourt would have expressed it. The old man simply grinned.

  Carr needed one more thing from Bettencourt before calling it a night. “Admiral, one final question. Beetle Dash implied that there was a spy inside the Imperial Palace on Sarissa. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  Bettencourt and Lin exchanged a quick look before the Admiral spoke. “Tell them, Lin.”

  “We tried to plant someone there years ago. We got them inside Esterkeep—inside the Palace itself—but then they deserted us. There has been no contact for two years.”

  “Why did they abandon you?” asked Sanchez.

  Lin shrugged. “Seduced by the power of the Empire? A romantic interest? Truth is, we just don’t know. We do know they’re still in the Palace, but they won’t respond to any of our attempts at contact.”

  “A name,” said Carr. “We need a name.”

  Lin started to respond, but Bettencourt quickly raised his hand to stop her.

  “I think there is a price tag attached to that name, Major Carr,” said the older man.

  Carr took a deep, frustrated breath. It had been a long day. “What’s it going to cost me, Admiral?”

  “Rid us of Dansby. You do that, then visit me again before you leave Pontus and I will be happy to give you that name. Honestly however, in my professional judgement, I believe the person in question poses no threat to your Empress, or anyone else for that matter. The whole thing was simply a… failed venture.”

  Carr looked around at the others, his eyes finally resting on Lieutenant McDowell.

  “We’re going to need your Raiders, Lieutenant.”

  “Action, sir?”

  “Action, Lieutenant. Time to stop the bastard who’s been selling out humanity.”

  18: Decision

  Sarissan battleship Typhoon

  Cor Caroli system

  Near the seventh planet

  “The fact that the Threshold is a stationary target is a huge advantage for us. We will use that,” said Pettigrew to those he had assembled in his stateroom. Looking around, he saw his most trusted colleagues. Most were more than that—they were valued friends and the only loved ones he had.

  He hoped that if he called them all together to review the battleplan yet one more time that it would ease his mind over whether to go ahead with the attack. It was a question for the ages: should the Coalition fleet launch an all-out assault on the massed Massang forces gathered in the inner Cor Caroli system, or simply allow them to activate their Threshold and wander away to… wherever?

  He had surrounded himself with fine people. Having Nyondo, Mullenhoff, and now David Swoboda around was just like old times again. Admiral Marius, who attended in holographic fashion from his flagship, had become more than just an alien associate. It pleased Pettigrew to think of him as a friend. Denlora Aoki and Captain Daemon were the youngsters of the group, never shy to voice their inciteful opinions. Sharp military minds, people of upstanding character, fine representatives of both the human and Lytori species—surely, they would make this decision easier.

  “The Massang have been building this thing for a while now,” said Captain Swoboda as Pettigrew sat back and absorbed the discussion. “Why isn’t it already up and running?”

  Standing nearby, Mullenhoff reached to touch a mid-air hologram of the Oplacai, spinning the figure around slightly. “From what we observed aboard Kite, I’m pretty sure the trouble is with their energy source. The enemy is trying to use the binary star itself to power the Threshold. They are utilizing a series of near-field generating stations located close to the corona of Cor Caroli’s fainter star, Alpha-One. In effect, they are trying to transmit energy from the generating stations near the star to the Threshold itself.”

  Swoboda shook his head in amazement. “Uschi, how could they even manage to place stations that close to the surface of a star?”

  “They had to use some sort of very durable robotic drones. The Massang tried several tests while Kite was on site. The power transmissions collapsed each time, but their projections held longer with each test they ran. In my opinion, they are very cl
ose to making it work.”

  “And when it does,” said Nyondo, “that big mouth of interdimensional hyperspace will open wide and Harradoss can pour his ships through it.”

  Mullenhoff moved to her seat. “Those near-field generators working close to the star’s corona have another advantage for the Massang—camouflage. Even on Kite, we had to be as close as the second planet to detect them. From our present location, we would never have spotted them.”

  “But now we have,” declared Daemon. “I believe Commander Mullenhoff and Captain Nyondo have located the off switch.”

  “We need to flip that switch,” said Pettigrew.

  “And that presents a problem.” Nyondo stood and called up an image of the binary star. “To effectively attack those generators, even with missiles, our ships have to be nearly at the star’s corona. I don’t think our shields can take the heat and radiation. Any crews we send in there are going to die.”

  “Any organic crew,” said Marius, tapping a foreclaw on the floor to emphasize his point. “Remember that my people are androids, not cyborgs—no organic parts. Lytori crews would not be affected by radiation hazards.”

  “But how could they survive that heat?” questioned Nyondo.

  “Admiral Pettigrew, leave this to my people,” declared Marius. It seemed as much an order as a request.

  Pettigrew rested his chin on his left hand. There was still a chance the heat would cook the Lytori crews before they could accomplish their mission. On the other hand, if he decided not to attack, the Lytori under his command would be safe. The friends he saw in front of him would be safe. Everyone would be safe—except for billions of sentient beings in the Otherverse.

  “Very well,” said Pettigrew. “The Lytori will attack the Threshold generators. Daemon, coordinate fleet command with Admiral Marius and adjust our battleplan accordingly. One more thing—any further news on our FTL comm blackout?”

  Mullenhoff reported the unhappy developments. “It’s looking less and less like the trouble is originating from the Belisarius system.”

  “Why do you say that, Commander?”

  “Because right now, we can’t even establish an FTL comm link with Knife’s Edge and Quinnesec is only three light-years away.”

  That meant there would be no contacting Sarissa and no help from home on his decision. He wasn’t going to be able to pass the buck to someone like Admiral Tovar or Empress Ardith. This was his call and his alone.

  “I will let everyone know my final decision by nineteen-hundred hours today. Dismissed.”

  As the image of Marius faded and the others began to shuffle out, Pettigrew spoke up.

  “Captain Nyondo—you and Aoki stay.”

  Nyondo immediately headed for the fridge while Aoki relocated to a closer chair. Two Hiwassee Stouts clanked together before Nyondo sat one of them down in front of Pettigrew.

  “Lieutenant, would you like a beer?” the Chief of Staff asked.

  Aoki looked unsettled. “No, thank you, ma’am. I don’t indulge. Um, sirs—I really do have a lot of work to do.”

  “Easy, Lieutenant,” Pettigrew said, trying to calm her. “Something’s troubling you. What is it?”

  “Troubling me? Nothing, sir.”

  Nyondo sat down next to her staffer. “Denlora, you didn’t say a word during the meeting. No interrupting a superior officer, no pointing out something the rest of us had forgotten—nothing. It was very unlike you,” said Nyondo with a gentle smile. “What is bothering you?”

  Aoki glanced from one of them to the other.

  “It’s just that… Well, as a New Earther, I’m wondering…”

  “Wondering what?” asked Pettigrew.

  “What will happen to me?”

  Pettigrew and Nyondo exchanged puzzled glances, prompting Aoki to continue.

  “My people came to this universe to escape the terror of the Adversary. If Harradoss and his Massang faction are the origin of the Adversary, and if we stop them from ever going into the Otherverse, there will never be an Adversary. If that is the case, then in the future my people would have no reason to build the original Threshold. We would never have come to this universe, which means we won’t terraform and resettle Earth.”

  “And you wouldn’t be here right now,” said Pettigrew, grasping her point. His brain had already flirted with these kinds of scenarios, but who knew how to really comprehend such things?

  “Seems to me that it’s bigger than just the New Earthers,” added Nyondo. “None of us would be here right now—at least not here at Cor Caroli. This war and much of human history for the last decade was prompted by the entrance of the New Earthers into our universe. The Commonwealth War, the formation of the Empire, the deaths of Taylin Adams, Olivia Kuypers, and a thousand others. Maybe none of it would have ever happened without the arrival of the New Earthers.”

  Aoki drew her arms across her body as if she were chilled by apprehension. “If we stop Harradoss, does everything revert to an alternate timeline? Do I wind up back in the Otherverse as a married woman working as a lab tech or something?”

  Pettigrew couldn’t help flashing a small grin. “Lieutenant, I wish I could answer your questions. The truth is, I just don’t know—none of us do. But if you could, wouldn’t you want to stop the years of pain and suffering inflicted by the Adversary?”

  Aoki looked away from him for a moment before turning back to answer. “There is always pain and suffering, sir. The truth is, I’m being selfish. Despite everything, I like my life. I enjoyed growing up on Earth and value the bonds I’ve formed with others in my lifetime. That includes working with you, sir—and you, Captain,” she nodded to Nyondo. “I just don’t want to lose it all. Like I said, I’m being selfish.”

  “You’re not being selfish, Aoki,” said Pettigrew. “You’re being human.”

  Aoki suddenly popped up out of her seat, assuming a parade rest pose. “As I said before, sir, I have a lot of work to do. Thank both you and the captain for you time.”

  Pettigrew wanted to reassure her, but couldn’t. “Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

  Before she passed through the stateroom door, Aoki turned back to them. “Sir, speaking as a New Earther, I will support whatever decision you make—everyone in the fleet will.”

  “I wish people would stop saying that,” said Pettigrew after the door closed behind Aoki.

  Nyondo laughed. “It’s supposed to make a hard decision easier.”

  “It doesn’t,” he said raising the bottle and taking a gulp. “Are you familiar with Aoki’s record?”

  “A little. If you recall, when I took this job, I hit the ground running. There wasn’t much time to read staff biographies.”

  “As a teenager, Aoki was the leader of a resistance cell in the New Earth underground. She helped Frank Carr and Etta Sanchez blow up that enemy titan we encountered at the First Battle of Earth. Damn near got herself executed for it.”

  Nyondo leaned back in her chair and stretched out her legs, kicking one up over the other. “Aoki has courage. They all do, Chaz—all of the thousands of people in this fleet. Cowards don’t venture into the Black.”

  “I’ve talked with Marius and Leversee. Swoboda had his say, and I know where Mullenhoff stands. That leaves you. What do you think we should do?”

  Nyondo pantomimed thinking hard, then answered. “I will support whatever decision you make—sir.”

  “Very funny.”

  A few moments of quiet passed between them as they both stared at the old-fashioned brown bottles in their hands.

  Nyondo turned serious. “I would be glad to offer an opinion, but you’ve already made up your mind. You’re going to attack, aren’t you?”

  No one knows me better than her—not even Mullenhoff.

  “I am. I’ve spoken with Marius at great length. The Lytori have decided to proceed with or without human support. By combining our forces, the Coalition is in a position to win this thing right now. In an altered timeline, we may not be. In fact
, in an altered timeline, the Lytori might not even meet humankind, practically ensuring their eventual destruction at the hands of the Massang.”

  “And so, we change history,” murmured Nyondo in a resigned voice.

  “Sunny, we do that every day, with every decision we make. Left instead of right, zig instead of zag—it all has consequences. Before we lose ourselves in thoughts of altering time, there is one basic truth here that we need to stay focused on.”

  “And that is?”

  “The fundamental ethics of the Massang leadership are morally wrong. Ethnocentrism, xenophobia, intimidation, torture, mass extermination—we can’t let that continue in any universe. And we can’t turn our back on it because it’s the easy thing to do. If we don’t stop the Massang here, billions more will die in the Otherverse—if that’s even where Harradoss is actually headed. Under Harradoss and the Vanguard, the Massang will bring suffering and death wherever they go. In this timeline, in our reality, it stops here at Cor Caroli.”

  Nyondo’s eyes didn’t waver from his. “And if this changes our history?”

  “If that’s the case, we will probably never know it. This battle, this war, they will have never happened. But consider this—in any timeline before humans encounter them, the Massang Unity is still a fact. Let’s deal with them now, while we have the chance.”

  Pettigrew put his half-consumed drink down on the desktop and leaned forward, rubbing at his forehead in fatigue.

  “Admiral Getchell used to warn me about trying to be too clever. Is anyone who ever lived clever enough to know what the best answer is to this mess?”

  “No,” said Nyondo as she rose, taking the two bottles away to the sideboard. “This is an impossible situation,” she was saying as he closed his eyes and momentarily faded out. He came back to her hands on his shoulders, giving him a friendly caress.

  “Do what you need to do and don’t second guess yourself,” she said. “Chaz, can I ask you something? What are you going to do after the war?”