by Trevor Wyatt
While the signees are being photographed, I feel someone slip in beside me. I turn to see Admiral Flynn. He doesn’t look so happy.
“You and your husband need to see me tomorrow in my office at Armada Command in Vancouver by 0800,” he whispers to me. He then walks away saying no more.
I shrug.
Whatever it is, on a day like today…can wait.
Jeryl
There is a silence in the air car as it fires off towards Vancouver. Ashley and I are sitting in the back seat, holding hands. We’re both tensed.
Last night, during the party that followed the signing of the Sol Accords, a stern-eyed commander from Armada Command hand-delivered a summon to me and Ashley. We had been ordered officially to face an inquiry by 0900 in Vancouver, repeating what Flynn had told Ash earlier during the ceremony.
At first I wasn’t sure what I was hearing. Enquiry? After all we’ve achieved?
“This must be a mistake,” I told the officer once he delivered the news.
“No, sir,” he replied me. “It’s no mistake. There is an inquest into your actions over the last eight years. You will have to answer to it.” and then the man walked away.
I remember thinking: who let him into the party?
Ashley and I had been dancing in preparation for some bed action when the commander had intercepted us. Now we both stared at each other, the letters in our hands. Ashley had chosen that time as the right time to tell me that Admiral Flynn had approached her during the signing to tell her to meet with him at 0800.
After I had gotten past the fact that she had chosen to keep this information from me till now, I said, “It can’t be a coincidence that he’s requesting to see us one hour before we stand before the board of inquiry.”
“No, I don’t think so,” she had replied. “I think Armada Command wants to screw us over and Admiral Flynn is trying to prevent that.”
I remember how enraged I’d felt last night, when Ashley had voiced my suspicions. The bastards! We’d brought peace to the fucking galaxy and this is how my own race thanked us?
Suffice to say Ashley and I had spent the night mostly awake and deep in thoughts. As much as I would hate to admit it, I was afraid. I never thought there’d be a possibility of me being afraid on Earth. I was used to the idea that fear only existed when my navigations officer warned me that an unidentified ship had appeared within range. Or when a malicious ship was firing up its weapons system.
“What do you think they’d do to us?” Ashley asks, her voice a bitter reminder of what lay ahead.
I have tried not to dwell on what ifs because I realize that if you don’t know—well, you just don’t. There is no merit in dwelling on speculations that only breed fear. Yet, I find that not speculating and not dwelling on these speculations is far worse.
I heave a sigh.
“I honestly don’t know,” I reply. “It’s not as if we’ve informed Armada Command of some of our unforgivable sins.”
“We are approaching Armada Command,” the pilot says. “I have been asked to inform you that Admiral Flynn will see you immediately as we land.”
I frown. I look at my digital watch. It’s still 0630 hours. We still have about ninety minutes before our proposed meeting with the Admiral. We had decided to come in early so we could sniff around and get a feel of just how bad our situation was.
“This is unfair!” Ashley cried out. “After all we’ve done. After all we’ve been through. After all the dangers. After all we’ve lost.”
I realize she’s on the brink of tears. I feel her pain. Her anger.
The very institution we swore our allegiance to is the very same institution that is about to hang us out to dry. And for what reason? Surely the ends do justify the means. Surely the Command can overlook some of our discretions. Isn’t all fair in war?
I pull my wife closer and comfort her.
“I’m sure it’ll be alright,” I say, though it is a flat lie. For the first time in my career as an officer in the Terran Armada, I really don’t know what’s going to happen. I haven’t the slightest clue what’s going to happen. Are we going to be dishonorably discharged? Are going to be sent to prison?
I realize with a shocking chill that we are mercy of paper pushers, who’ve probably never tasted war or been on the receiving end of enemy lasers or torpedoes.
The shuttle landed soon after. We alighted and were met on the tarmac by Admiral Flynn. He has a grim expression on his face.
“Admiral Flynn,” I say in greeting.
“Jeryl,” he replied, then nods at my wife. “This is a big mess. A big mess. Follow me.”
He leads us into a drop tube that drives down to the fifteenth floor. Armada Command in is a massive set of pentagonal and octagonal towering structures —a nod to the twentieth century United States military command building. Armada Command is far bigger than what any twentieth century mind could conceive. It is a fortress that stretches two hundred stories high, covering a large area next to Vancouver. Completely self-contained, it still integrates seamlessly into the city.
Admiral Flynn leads us into his office, which is a lot bigger than the officer he has in New Washington. A lot bigger and a lot plusher. There is a big desk up against a large window that overlooks the river that traverses the side of the building. In the distance, I can see air cars zipping across the city. There is a no fly zone imposed around Armada Command, except for designated areas for entry and egress.
There’s a mid-sized couch arrangement off to the left of the room. This is where Admiral Flynn leads us to and sits us down. He sits across from us and observes us for a moment.
I have a lot of things to say to him, but I keep my mouth shut. Now, I figure, is the time to listen to Flynn and receive his words.
“You must be wondering why I met you at the tarmac,” he says.
We don’t answer him.
“The inquiry has been moved up to 0700 hours,” he says, then looks at his digital watch. “That means you only have twenty minutes before you both have to stand before the board.”
“Sir, we haven’t received any official notice as to that effect,” Ashley says.
Admiral Flynn only nods.
Our comms both chirp at the same time. I tap my comm and hear: “Please note that the inquiry has been moved up to 0700 hours. You are hereby required to present yourselves to the Chamber of by that time.”
I glance at Ashley.
“Someone must have gotten word that I was meeting you before,” he mutters to himself.
“It’s been moved up to 0700 hours,” she mutters to me, her eyes wide with shock.
I nod.
Then I look back to Admiral Flynn.
“Is this a witch hunt?” I ask the obvious question.
He nods. “They may say it’s not, but I know it is,” he says. “They found out I had requested to see you. They are trying to keep me from getting to you before they speak with you. Look, the plan is to have you removed from Armada Command.”
“What!” Ashley blurts, shooting to her feet.
“And they will, if you don’t do what I say…” Admiral Flynn continues.
“Who’s responsible for this?” I ask. “Why are they doing this?”
Admiral Flynn had been leaning forward to speak to us. Now he lays back on his couch and says, “It’s been going on for a while, Jeryl. You have amassed a lot of enemies back here on Earth while you continued along your trek through the stars. You’ve faced off against entire races. You indirectly started and directly ended wars. You were even able to bring the Terran Union to its knees. But I think the final straw was struck when the aliens wouldn’t sign an accord without you.
“You broke the hedge, Jeryl. And he that breaks the hedge is the one the serpent will bite. You broke rank. You rose above their heads, even though you’re just a Vice Admiral.”
“I didn’t do all these things for that purpose,” I counter. “I did everything I did with the only singular purpose of uniting
the galaxy after witnessing firsthand the horrors of interstellar war. I can’t believe these guys would do such a thing!”
Admiral Flynn says, “They will, and much more. Look, we are running out of time. These guys know everything you did. There is a spy in The Seeker who has been reporting to Armada intelligence. You know this. You know that armada Intelligence has a spy one very vessel in the known universe. Doesn’t matter if you root them out. They’ll get another in.”
I nod. It was really a speculation, but I’m not surprised to learn that it’s reality.
“You know that you can’t lie,” Admiral Flynn says. “So, here’s what you are going to do. When asked about sharing classified information about the Tyreesians…”
“That’s what they’re going to use?” Ashley spouts in disgust.
Admiral Flynn nods solemnly and contuse, “Tell them I gave you a direct order to do so…”
I shake my head. “I am not dragging you into this.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“No,” I reply, firm. “If we go down, we go down. I am not bringing you down with me.”
“Listen to me!” Flynn roars, putting fear in my bones. “This is not about me or you. This is about the Galactic Council. This is about peace in the Galaxy. The people who are trying to string you up don’t have a clue how vital you are to the Accords. They think they can remove and the galaxy will not kick back.
“It’s better you’re in the Armada than out of it. If you don’t want to watch everything you’ve built fall to the ground, you will do exactly as I have told you.”
Then the doors into Flynn’s office opens and a complement of security personnel hefting weapons enter.
They salute us all.
“Vice Admiral Jeryl Montgomery and Captain Ashley Gavin,” announces the lead agent. “We have come to bring you before the board. Please follow us.”
I don’t look at Flynn again before I am take out of his office.
Ashley goes in first for questioning. I know these sessions take as much as thirty minutes, but Ashley is only in there for five minutes, further confirming my fears. These guys have already decided on their course of action. This is for the sake of formality. Then I know that I have to bend to Flynn’s will just this once.
For the greater good…
I am led into the board room. It is a dark place with only three spot lights. One light is on the entrance, the other light is on the stand, and the third is behind the curved, elevated table ahead. There are seven people seated. I can only see their forms and the color of theory uniform, but I don’t see their faces.
I step into the light.
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” says an AI tasked with recorded sworn testimony.
“I do,” I reply.
“Vice Admiral Jeryl Montgomery, I only have one question to ask you,” says the Admiral in the middle. “The evidence against you is overwhelming. This is just a formality. Did you or did you not reveal classified information about the Armada’s project to develop a matter transportation technology to an alien nation?”
I look from one form to another. All I can feel now is hate and rage. Then I feel betrayal and it sucks like hell.
“I revealed to Leader Greer of the Tyreesian Collective that we are in the process of developing a matter transport technology, much like the one he used on New Washington,” I reply. “I did so as a means of staving the extermination of over 75,000 people on the Terran colony world of Omarias II. I did so to prevent another war between the Terran Union and a race that appears to be far superior to us.”
Silence.
Jeryl continues, “I also revealed this information to the diplomatic delegations on board The Seeker when explaining why they should not abandon the negotiations and how it was possible that Greer was still alive,”
“You violated one of our sacrosanct laws and you put this entire establishment at risk,” says the same Admiral. “And for that…”
This is it.
This is where I need to violate my morals and ethics to preserve my Oath of Service when I first joined the Terran Armada.
This is politics at the levels I’ve reached.
I have to do as Flynn told me.
“No, I did not,” I reply, cutting him off.
“Excuse me, Vice Admiral?” the Admiral replies, unsure of himself.
“I did not put this establishment at risk,” I say, “because I was acting on orders from my commanding officer, Admiral Flynn.”
Someone lets loose a soft, almost indiscernible gasp.
There’s shock.
If this is true, it throws a torpedo into their entire framework for drumming me out of Armada Command.
One statement undoes what they are trying to do. And hopefully it keeps me in the game.
The Admiral’s hunker in and talk between themselves for a few seconds.
“You do realize you are speaking under oath,” the lead Admiral says. “If your testimony is found to be false, the consequences can be more severe.”
I remain silent.
“We will inquire with Admiral Flynn,” the Admiral says, “then we will deliberate amongst ourselves and issue our judgment in 24 Earth hours. Dismissed.”
I turn around and walk out of the room.
Later that day, we are in a hotel room nearby when we receive the judgment of the inquest.
I take a look at the official communication:
Vice Admiral Jeryl Montgomery, under the charge of providing critical and classified national security information to interests that are not aligned with that of the Terran Union, has been recommended to receive a personal disciplinary note on his file. As penalty for such actions, he is stripped of his rank as Vice Admiral and reduced in rank to Captain.
He will serve as Captain of the TUS The Seeker.
The communication went to on specify that Ashley was further reduced in rank for aiding and abetting my actions and would have her rank reduced to Commander, becoming my First Officer.
We are sipping a bottle of wine on the seventieth floor of a five-star hotel overlooking the river when I read out the judgment.
“It could have been worse,” Ashley says with a smile. She’s wearing a diaphanous red robe that has been tingling all over.
I smile back at her, flinging the letter away. “It’s where I’ve always wanted to be.”
Ashley comes to me and sits on my lap. Then she kisses me and says, “Me, too.”
Jeryl
I sit in the Captain’s Office of CNC once again as Captain Jeryl Montgomery. Even though I’ve been demoted, I still feel contented. Commander Ashley Gavin is in the CNC preparing the ship for our month-long patrol along the Terran Union’s border with the Outer Colonies.
I think of the Outer Colonies and I feel nothing but sympathy. This Sol Accords we’ve signed with the other races effectively leaves them out in the cold. They were not party to the accords, even though they were humans.
Not that we didn’t try. We made several diplomatic overtures, and while diplomatic talks were opened up after first contact with the Sonali, they’ve progressed very little.
The abject hatred of Earth and the Terran Union’s tolerance for alien life has always stopped them. And now they’re howling through the presses about being shut out from the benefits of the council.
You should have thought about that when you were breaking away from the Union, I think.
I feel the soft thrum of our sub light engine as we break out of Earth’s orbit. I’d already given the order to set a course for the border. I also ordered that we don’t engage the FTL drive until I am back on the CNC.
At sub light, we were going to be at the moon in ten minutes. We would be exiting the solar system in an hour or so.
My comm chirps.
“Captain Jeryl, here,” I say.
There is a pause.
I look at the display readout on my desk to see who I’m speaking with
. It’s the communications officer.
“Is there a problem, Commander?” I ask.
The commander clears his throat. “No, sir. It’s just that it’s weird to hear you address yourself as Captain.”
“Well, Lieutenant, it was either this or I get tossed out of the force,” I reply.
“I’m sorry about the wrong turn of events, sir, however, I’m glad to have you back as our Captain.”
I smile. “My wife was doing a great job, wasn’t she?”
“Fantastic one, sir!” the communications officer replies in haste. “She’s just not you. For what it’s worth, sir, I trust you with my life. And I’m willing to go anywhere with you as my captain. Sir, I know I speak for everyone when I say that.”
“Thanks, commander,” I say. “That means a lot. And I’m glad to be back. It’s where I’ve always wanted to be, anyway. Armada Command thinks this is a punishment. They don’t know it’s a dream come true.”
There is a short silence.
I clear my throat. “Did you want to tell me something?”
“Yes, sir,” the communications officer says. “Admiral Flynn is requesting a slipstream connection with you.”
“Put him through,” I say.
“Aye, captain.”
Without warning, a life-size Admiral Flynn erupts in the center of my office, courtesy of the new holoprojectors outfitted on The Seeker while in orbit of Earth. The tall man is standing right in front of me, his hands held behind his back and looking smart.
“I’m glad you weren’t hurt by the board’s decision,” I say, genuinely meaning every word.
The day after we had received our judgment, I contacted Admiral Flynn to find out is he had suffered for his supposed instructions. It turned out they had only issued a stern warning and a note in his file, which doesn’t matter much now that he was a full-fledged Admiral. I was thrilled to find out he hadn’t been demoted or sanctioned or even put on trial, because even Admirals report to the Terran Council. A supposedly powerful Admiral could be brought down by the Union. As ultimately, we all report to civilians.
