The Coming Storm_A Pax Aeterna Novel

by Trevor Wyatt

  Commander Tadius is an exemplary officer, with a track record that speaks for itself. Tadius would never complain about anything, even if he couldn’t do anything about it. He’s the kind of guy that would prefer to suffer in silence than say something. However, the tides of the war, which are terribly against us has brought forth the angry man in him.

  He’s laid back against his chair, with his hands folded across his barrel chest. He shakes his head, his eyes filled with fear. “It’s bad out there.”

  “Worse than what Command is letting out, I assure you,” I say. I am not one to be suggestive of anything untoward. I form my opinion and keep them to myself when they’re negative. However, when I see someone else, especially a colleague leaning towards the same opinion, I conclude that it wouldn’t exactly be suggestive if I let them know that I felt the same way they do.

  The truth is, we’re losing the war. The death and destruction has been on a catastrophic scale. The Terran Council and the President, instead of pushing for a cease-fire or a diplomatic solution, are putting more and more pressure on the Armada and the Council of Corporations.

  They are pressuring the Armada for more results, and this pressure filters right down to even new recruits. They are pressuring the corporations, especially those ones involved in manufacturing and building starships. Under this level of tension and stress, especially now that we are on the brink of total loss, mistakes are being made.

  Captains are leading their crews to needless death because of the need to win—the rush to win. Admirals are no longer spending as much time strategizing. No one is thinking tactically now. With one colony being destroyed almost every week, with the Armada stretched thin across our borders, and with our borders thinning and thinning with time, everyone is throwing everything to stop the irrevocable advance of the Sonali.

  And the Sonali seem to realize that we are now desperate. They’re taking their time, mounting strategic attacks and destroying us one after the other. They aren’t pressing their advantage when one is created, because they outgun, outclass, and out power us more than three to one.

  The corporations that are rushing to produce more starships to meet up with the losses, but they can’t keep up.

  This isn’t what we signed up for. No, it isn’t. We didn’t sign up to be slaughtered by an aggressive race across the stars. Yes, we want to save the Terran Union. Yes, we will gladly give everything for the Union, but we can’t do so needlessly. We can’t keep sacrificing the lives of our officer and soldiers without cause.

  It’s one thing to give one’s life for the cause; it’s another thing to give one’s life for the cause when there’s a better option. Nevertheless, I realize the need to keep up with the war. Utmost care and caution need to be rendered to ensure that we are not rushing to hasten our destruction. As it is now, we are on the brink of loss.

  “I hear Command has reduced the number of months for new recruits to eighteen months,” Commander Chen says, with a disgusted expression on his face. “I wonder what they learn within two months. Our ships are now filled up with half-baked conscripts, a lot of whom have no discipline nor regard for the guiding principles that form the Armada.”

  “Do we still have guiding principles?” I say. Even though I try to hide it, my voice is thick with bitterness.

  They all look at me, impassive.

  I explain. “Our practices thus far have proven one thing. Peacetime laws are different from wartime laws. During peace, it’s not okay to bomb a colony. But during war, it’s okay to bomb colonies. We talk about the ruthlessness of the Sonali and the need to match ruthlessness with ruthlessness. The thing is, who started out on the path of ruthlessness?

  “I think the Sonali did,” Commander Chen replies. “They glassed our colonies first. In fact, they’ve been destroying our colonies for longer before we started returning the favor.”

  I shrug. “Still, if we are to remain moral, we have to remain moral all through. The truth is, the law signed by the President gives the Armada too much power. They’re basically operating without oversight. The captains have become gods.

  “In other words, our vessels have become prisons. We are forced to fight ten times more powerful than ours. We have changed. The Armada has changed.”

  There is silence.

  “And before you say we have to change to adapt,” I add, “let me say this. Not all changes are good. Some changes will leave you damaged forever. Let me ask you, folks, what happens when we win this war?

  “What happens? What would we become? What would other species think of us? Would they call us genocidal? Is that the legacy we want to leave for our children, one of wanton destruction of lives and properties? One of careless value for human life?”

  The question, spat out like machine gun fire, hang in the air.

  The officers don’t meet my gaze. But I can tell my words are having an impact upon their mind and conscience.

  I don’t consider myself to be an unruly officer. In fact, I have never been court-martialed, neither have I been disciplined for any form of disorderly conduct or breach of chain of command. However, the recent events in the Armada, especially the way the management is handling our officers out in the field makes me wonder if they really value us. If our admirals and fleet commanders don’t value our lives, then why should we trust them with our loyalty?

  Yes, we signed an oath of allegiance to the Terran Armada, but the Armada also signed an oath of allegiance to us. They have a responsibility to us not to play games with our lives. These are real people with families dying out there, while those admirals in their comfy offices in New Washington are making reckless decisions.

  “I agree with you, Craig,” says Commander Hadley. “Aside from the fact that it’s most probable that we are going to lose this damned war, we can’t keep fighting like terrorists. Just last week, my friend aboard the TUS Brandon sent me a message that they were being sent by Edoris Station, which is their command base, to lay waste to a series of colonies near the Sonali border.”

  “Isn’t TUS Brandon one of those Battle Class vessels the corporations are churning out a dime a dozen?” I ask.

  Hadley nods. “She told me she had troubles with the order. When she spoke with her captain about the reservation she was having about the instructions, she was arrested by the security team and confined to quarters.”

  “What?” Tadius exclaims. “That’s not lawful.”

  “Well, it is if the captain feels you are a rebel,” Hadley replies. “Apparently, the captain of the ship felt that her feeling of reservation was a conclusive proof of that.”

  “No, the protocol for officers expressing feelings of reservation,” I say, “is to evaluate their effectiveness regardless of their feelings. If it is found that they would not be able to carry out her job with her reservation, then she is removed from her post until such reservations are resolved. We don’t outrightly arrest them.”

  “Well, it is war,” Hadley says. “And apparently in war, everything goes.”

  “What would you do if you were asked to do something that went against all you hold dear?” I ask.

  Hadley doesn’t reply for a long time. Everyone looks at him, waiting for his response. I can tell that we are all likeminded. This war is unnecessary, and until there’s some form of revolt or revolution, the Armada and the Terran Union will continue giving orders that lead to more loss of lives.

  “Honestly, Craig, I don’t know what I’d do,” he says. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do if I’m told to do something that goes against everything I hold dear. I mean, I didn’t sign up to become someone else’s pawn. I understand about taking orders and chain of command and all of that. But…there’s a limit to what you can ask someone to do.”

  “I agree,” Chen says.

  The focus goes to Chen.

  “I mean, glassing a planet?” Chen says. “I don’t know. We’ve been fortunate not to have been sent on such a mission, being how small we are. But with our rece
nt retrofit, we may soon be receiving orders to go after defenseless, harmless Sonali colonies to destroy them.”

  “Is it really necessary?” Hadley asks. He’s directing the question at me. “Is it really necessary to glass colonies? I understand the appeal to colonies with strategic or tactical military significance. I can easily overlook that one. But colonies that don’t have such significance? Colonies that don’t even have economic value? Colonies with people living on them?”

  “I think the idea is to make it hurt so much that the Sonali consider withdrawing,” I reply. “I don’t know how it works in the Sonali homeworld. Maybe if we can make a lot of trouble for them, their people will revolt against the government’s war policies and maybe…maybe they’d give up.”

  Hadley scowls. “That’s a big maybe, Craig, and you know it. But I guess the real question is, what would you do if something terrible is being asked of you?”

  “I don’t think I’d do it,” Tadius says, surprising everyone.

  Everyone has been coded about how they phrase their reply. However, it is obvious that they don’t like taking orders that violate the defining charter of the Armada. No one has, however, openly vocalized their intention to reject a direct order from a superior officer in the time of war. This is tantamount to mutiny, an event that is unheard of in the Terran Armada. And for it to come from a security officer, one who’s meant to ensure mutiny does not occur intrigues me.

  We all look at him for more explanation.

  “Hell, I didn’t sign up to kill innocent civilians,” he says. “Who are we kidding? We aren’t soldiers. We are explorers. The little experience we had with the Outers did nothing to prepare us for the Sonali. I’d rather be court-martialed than do something to violate the core of my personality.

  “My integrity is more important to me than my oath to the Armada.”

  We are yet to be asked to do something that will require this kind of commitment. However, I can feel it in my blood that it’s coming. When that time comes, I want to know that I’m not the only one who feels this way. I want to know that there are some people I can count on.

  “It’s not just about refusing to take an order,” I proceed. “It’s about doing all that’s necessary to stop the order from being executed, especially when the ship’s crew is at a risk of destruction.”

  I pause, watching as their eyes lit up with shock and turn to look at me. I’ve always been known as someone who isn’t afraid to say what needs to be said or do what needs to be done. I’ve always been known as someone who’s smart with the people I talk to. I chose to bond with these top officers because I’ve worked with them on other ships at different times in my fifteen-year career with the Armada.

  I know these guys like I know the back of my hand. I know they’d support whatever decision I make. I just need to make them see reason. What better place and time to make them see reason than a place where we’ll not be disturbed (ergo, the officer’s mess) and a time before their support is required (ergo, now).

  Now is the best chance I have, this I know as well as I know myself.

  No one says anything.

  “Guys, relax,” I say with a disarming smile. I sense the tension reduce a couple of notches.

  “I’m not suggesting anything illegal,” I say. “I’m just saying if the crew can’t think for itself, we need to think for it or help them think for themselves. Until someone speaks out, things may not change. Until someone takes action, nothing will change.

  “If we take action, you’d be surprised at how many people would respond in your favor,” I say. “And when the news spreads across the Armada, you’d be surprised of the cascading effect it would have.”

  “Jake, I’ve known you for ten years,” Tadius, the chief security officer says, “I’ve never known you to speak so…revolutionarily before. Is there something you have planned?” His eyes are suspicious.

  Tadius has taken an interest in my statements, so much so that I begin to have second thoughts about his notion of the Armada. Is he a spy, maybe? The thought brings a half smile on my face. If he’s a spy for the captain, then I’m so massively screwed.

  I let out a nervous laughter.

  “No,” I say.

  I can hear Hadley exhale softly beside me.

  “But,” I say. “I wouldn’t put it past me if things go south with Terror.”

  The TUS Terror was recently retrofitted with the latest weaponry in the Armada’s arsenal. She’s still a pretty small frigate compared to other front-line vessels like TUS Seeker. Nonetheless, she’s fast and agile and now with her laser cannons, particle beam and photon bombs, she’s infinitely more powerful.

  However, we still don’t stand a chance alone against the Sonali. I have no doubt that very soon we will be sent on a mission that we will not return from. I intend to prevent such an occurrence. If I can help it, I will not let the crew of this ship die because of some order we received from some potbellied admiral back at New Washington.

  We are currently hurtling to Edoris Space Station, which is the Armada’s staging area for the war against the Sonali. We are expected to receive our combat orders from Admiral Flynn before heading on. No one knows what our orders will be. Thus far, we’ve been protecting important colonies and ferrying admirals around.

  Now, with the number of ships reducing everyday, every available ship is being retrofitted. Some are being upgraded (it’s easier to upgrade a ship than to build new ones, obviously) with new technology and weaponry and being sent back to the front line. With our new retrofit, we are most probably going to battle the Sonali for the first time.

  It, therefore, means our end is near, unless we’re lucky and manage to be that one or two vessel that makes it out of the battle alive. It is, in fact, this series of events that has led me to begin considering all the terrible woes of the Armada.

  It is easier to rebel when you have a morally justifiable reason to do so. It is hard when your action is inspired by fear and cowardice.

  Yes, I am afraid. But I’m not a coward. If we are indeed sent to the front line and come up against the Sonali, then we will fight until there is no breath left in our bodies. If, however, we are asked to glass a planet or do something terrible, I’m out.

  I still don’t know if all that qualifies as terrible, but I do know that sending a frigate to fight against a dreadnought is pure suicide. Heck, sending a frigate to fight a Sonali cruiser all by itself is irresponsible.

  “The signs are everywhere, Tadius,” I begin. “We’ve been upped. More weapons. More powerful shield. More crew. You don’t do something like that for a frigate if you want it to remain a transport vessel for admirals or a security vessel for mining colonies. You only do something like that if you intend to send the frigate into combat.”

  “Meaning, we will soon be facing some of the hard choices we’ve been condemning here in the officer’s mess for the past seven weeks,” Chen continues, understanding my reasoning.

  “Yes,” I say. “Are we hypocrites? Or will we do something about it?”

  Tadius arches his eyebrows. “Careful, now. Someone might think you are planning a mutiny.” He rises to his feet and leans in to whisper to us, “Be careful about what you say to people outside this group. They might actually think you a mutineer and report you to me, and then I’ll have to do something about it.” And he walks out of the officer’s mess.

  “What’s up with him?” asks Commander Chen.

  “I don’t think he likes some of the top commanders in the ship talking about mutiny,” Commander Hadley replies.

  I don’t say anything. Tadius’ response is unfortunate, but not unexpected. Perhaps, it’s not like I’m planning a mutiny. I’m only saying it’s not off the board when push comes to shove.

  “Guys, no one is saying anything about a mutiny,” I say to assure them. “I’m just saying there may come a time when the ship enters the war and we have to make the right choices. They may not be legal, but they must be right. When that
time comes, be damned sure that I will make the right choice. And I hope you will follow me.”

  “Most people prefer you to Captain Joana,” Chen says. “Even the CNC crew. All Captain Joana cares about is licking the asses of those admirals back at Armada Command. So, they’ll follow you. But you better make sure before you take any action. Because once you start down this path, there’s no turning back.”

  “First Officer, please report to the CNC,” comes the communications officer’s voice through the ship’s intercom.

  I rise to my feet, my heart leaping into overdrive.

  “We must be coming close to Edoris,” Hadley says, breathing hard. “I guess we’re about to find out when our death certificates will be signed.”

  We all laugh nervously. Yet, Hadley’s words are profound, and they stick with me, even as I make my way to the CNC on the topmost deck. The front line isn’t really a front line.

  A front line assumes that there are equal loses on both sides. A front line assumes that the line is holding and that both sides are applying roughly equal amount of force against each other. A front line assumes that there are equal damages on both sides.

  No, there’s no front line in this battle. There’s only a massacre ground, where the Sonali come to destroy us, and we come to be destroyed. That and our dwindling border. Since the war started, we have lost more than ten percent of our territory. We are projected to lose more in half the time because we no longer have enough ships.

  Armada Command tells us that if we can hold it for a few more months, the next batch of ships will greatly relieve some of the pressure and stress. They say that these next set of ships are larger and more equipped. They are also built well, and there are no hull leaks (which is the leading cause of the destruction of our vessels, especially in new and quickly built ones).