Right Ascension

by David Derrico

  “Correct. Although, this time, they will not simply disappear. They will be back. And they will destroy the Apocalypse.”

  Daniel thought for a moment. “So you are saying they are just after my ship, and that Earth will be spared?”

  Gazing at him deliberately, the Chancellor replied, “I did not say that, Admiral. When the Lucani Ibron attacked Arcadia, they destroyed not only the Ultimate Nullifier, but also the laboratory and production facility that had designed and produced it, rendering us incapable of building another one, even if we had so desired. However,” the Chancellor cautioned, “your case is different. After destroying the Indomitable and the Apocalypse, I believe they will still want to ensure that no more Omega Cannons can be produced.”

  “But, Chancellor,” the Admiral pointed out, “there are research labs and production facilities all over Earth that could produce another Omega Cannon in a month. They can’t simply destroy one factory …” The Admiral’s voice trailed off.

  “Precisely my point, Admiral. They can’t prevent you from building another Cannon,” the Chancellor pronounced dismally, “without completely destroying the Earth.”

  CHAPTER 5

  As the Apocalypse lifted off from the Palatial Landing Field of Arcadia Prime, Admiral Atgard could not help but notice the sense of foreboding doom that hung over the crew of his ship. He had told his crew of the pertinent aspects of what he had learned about the Lucani Ibron from the Chancellor, without unduly revealing any extraneous information about the Arcadians themselves or their secrets. Looking at the austere faces of his bridge crew, he struggled to present an image of confidence when he was actually utterly unsure of whether any of them would ever see Earth again.

  As the ship emerged from the upper atmosphere and was once again enveloped by the vacuum of space, Daniel rose from his chair and paced toward the front of the bridge. “Nathan, input coordinates for the Turepon System. All possible speed.”

  Nodding, Lieutenant Latimer entered the coordinates as the Admiral continued walking past his station and to the center of the front of the bridge. His hands clasped behind his back, he watched the nearby viewscreen as the myriad points of light stretched into starlines. Imperceptibly bracing himself as the ship surged up to speed, he could feel the eyes of the crew on the back of his neck. He and his crew had been through a great deal together, and every one of them trusted him implicitly, but that did not alter the fact that they all believed they were being sent to their deaths, chasing an unconquerable adversary.

  Too composed to let himself believe that to be true, the Admiral knew that he had to find a way to convince the crew that their mission was not one of glorified suicide. No foe was invincible. The Indomitable had proven that.

  “Friends,” he said, turning to face them, “we have faced many enemies together. But we all know that neither we, nor anyone else, have ever opposed an enemy such as this. The Lucani Ibron may well have been colonizing the stars while we were evolving from primates. They may have an invincible ship, an unstoppable weapon, an unlimited technological base. They may have an armada unparalleled throughout the known history of the galaxy. But so did we, until two days ago.” The Admiral paused to study the faces of each of his crew in turn. Resoundingly, he continued, “What they do not have—what they will never have—is the indefatigable human spirit. The will to win, the strength to persevere, the determination to survive. Battles are not won with technology; they are not won with guns; they are not won with blood nor with iron. They are won by the incommensurable human mind.”

  He paused once again to study his crewmates. The four of them sat at rapt attention, and Anastasia looked not at, but through his hazel eyes.

  “These aliens may be the most advanced species in the galaxy. They may even be the original inhabitants of the Universe. But just because they were here before us does not mean that they will be here after we are gone.

  “Their attack came completely unexpectedly,” the Admiral continued, his voice gaining volume and strength. “They caught us with our guard down. They had the element of surprise on their side—but no longer.

  “Now it is we who are foraying into their territory. It is we who will come upon them as they lie unprepared. And it is we who will strike a blow for humanity!

  “You know,” the Admiral continued, his voice bated, “they say in the tactical manuals: never make it personal. They say to remain objective, impartial, unattached. But it was the Lucani Ibron who made it personal.” Though he spoke softly, Daniel’s words were filled with venom. “And to hell with what they say—those bastards killed my son!” The last few words rose to a crescendo, and the Admiral slammed his fist upon the console in front of Zach. “And maybe they made it look easy, and maybe they are more ‘advanced,’ but I don’t give a damn! Because I swear to you—all of you—they will pay for what they have done. I will make them pay …” The Admiral’s voice trailed off, as the adrenaline that had pumped through his veins like hellfire began to subside.

  “May God have mercy on their souls,” whispered Dex bitterly.

  “God can not help them now,” the Admiral replied icily, turning slowly to face him. “No one can.”

  • • •

  Daniel waited for the doors to open as the transport tube came to a halt. With a soft hum, the doors slid apart and the Admiral stepped into the Engineering Section. Turning to look at him was Chief Engineer Darren Alexander, who stood behind his Assistant Engineer, Alexis St. Claire. Alexis was seated in front of him, her attention focused on a computer console, and did not immediately notice the Admiral’s arrival. Daniel stepped out of the transport tube, tacitly wondering how two people so diametrically opposite in appearance could be so similar in their expert knowledge of engineering science. Darren was slightly overweight, his age overly apparent, as evidenced by his fully gray hair and wrinkled skin. Alexis, in contrast, was the antithesis of old age—her petite frame and crimson hair spoke of a positive energy made possible only by the unspoiled purity of youth.

  After a moment, Alexis noticed the Admiral’s approach, looking up at him and flashing a broad smile. Daniel returned her smile and walked over to them.

  “Are you overworking her again, Darren?” asked the Admiral facetiously. “Because if you’re not, there will be hell to pay, let me tell you.”

  Alexis looked up at him and scowled. “Of course he is, Admiral. He said some hot-head on the bridge wants us to make this rig go faster, so … .”

  “Daniel is not just some hot-head, Alexis,” Darren corrected her, grinning. He gave her an insincere stern look and spoke mock-seriously, dropping his voice even lower in pitch than usual. “He is Admiral Hot-Head, and if he wants this ship to go faster, then that’s exactly what we’re going to make it do.” Daniel and Alexis exchanged grins.

  “I’m glad to see you are both in such good spirits,” said the Admiral after a brief pause. His voice had sobered up noticeably. “But I really do need any extra speed you can give me.”

  “We all understand how important this is, Daniel,” said Alexis, “and we understand what we’re getting ourselves into. Hell, we even understand why you want us to get us all into it even more quickly!” The Admiral could not help but chuckle. Suddenly solemn, she added, “Admiral, we know what’s at stake. But I, for one, refuse to act as if we’re already dead.”

  Over her shoulder, Darren cocked his head and grinned. He, too, knew that Alexis was as fiery as her flame-red hair. Always upbeat, Alexis brought a tangible energy to the ship. The Admiral hoped she would never allow age to dull her dynamic personality. At age 29, she was the second-youngest member of the crew, but her knowledge of propulsions systems was unmatched.

  “You know,” Darren began, “this situation reminds me of the time when—”

  “Here we go again,” muttered Alexis, grinning.

  Just then, there was a ping from a control board on the opposite side of the room. “That’s the problem with young people these days,” Darren sighed. “
They just don’t appreciate the experience of their elders.” Shaking his head, Darren turned and walked ponderously to the sound, studying the readouts displayed on the screen.

  Abruptly looking up at Daniel once he was gone, Alexis spoke bluntly. “We’re all scared, Admiral. But we have faith in you. And we’re ready to do whatever you need. Don’t worry about us nerds down here,” she said, smiling slightly. “After all, I know you didn’t come down here just to get an update on the propulsion systems.”

  Putting his hand on her shoulder, Daniel looked into her emerald eyes. “You are the wisest young person I know, Alexis. And I plan to make sure that you become the wisest old person I know. Your faith in me is appreciated. I will not let you down.”

  “I know,” she said earnestly, putting her hand on his. “I know.”

  • • •

  Their visits to the Turepon and Saracyn Systems went without incident, but, unfortunately, also failed to turn up any new information. Now five days after the attack, the Admiral lay awake in his bed, several hours before their scheduled arrival in the Tu’oth System. Still not in contact with Confederation Command, the Admiral hoped this entire venture was not in vain. He fought to push from his mind the thought that the Lucani Ibron could be obliterating Earth at this very moment while he was out roaming about the stars. Would history remember him as the coward who ran from mankind’s greatest threat? Or the hero who delivered humanity from its darkest hour?

  Such weighty concerns often visited the Admiral in the middle of the night as he struggled to sleep. A notorious insomniac, Daniel rarely slept, and even when he did, he did so fleetingly and for short stretches of a couple of hours at a time. He found that the quiet solitude of his nights gave his mind the proclivity to ponder many onerous and vexatious ruminations. Indeed, partly from design, partly from necessity, and partly from sheer will, the Admiral had adapted to require very little sleep, as his inexhaustible intellect seldom allowed him the luxury of unfettered slumber.

  But how could he sleep, knowing that awful alien death ray loomed just beyond the horizon? How could he relax when the fate of his crew, his planet, and his species rested squarely on his shoulders? I have promises to keep, thought the Admiral wearily, and miles to go before I sleep. Miles to go before I sleep.

  Just as he began to settle into a fitful rest, the doorbell chimed softly. The door opened, and Anastasia entered.

  “I took a chance you were up.”

  “Lucky guess,” countered Daniel dryly.

  “I couldn’t sleep either,” Anastasia added. “So I knew you would be awake.”

  “I’ve barely slept since it happened, ‘Stasia,” Daniel lamented. “I can’t stop trying to think of what I should do.”

  “I think you’re doing all that can be done, Daniel.” Venturing a guess as to what was troubling him, she added, “For what it’s worth, we all think you’re doing the right thing. I think you’re doing the right thing.”

  Looking up at her, Daniel nodded imperceptibly. Though he was normally comfortable and confident in his decisions, the Admiral could not deny that he was inordinately plagued by this one. Though he had convinced himself there was nothing to be gained by waiting at Earth, it seemed somehow more … honorable to at least be there to defend her on her day of judgement.

  “We can’t just wait around for them to come back. Besides, that’s never been your style, remember? The renowned Galactic Tactical Competition Champion, Admiral Daniel Atgard, meekly waiting for his adversaries to come to him at their leisure? That hardy seems fitting.” She offered him a slight smile. “You’ve always believed that the best defense is a strong offense, Dan. And you’ve been right more than your share of times.”

  “But I can’t afford to be wrong this time, Anastasia. This isn’t some competition or simulation.”

  “You’ll do your best. We all know you will.”

  Daniel looked at her disconsolately. “What if that’s not good enough?”

  “Then you’ll just do better, Daniel,” Anastasia assured him confidently. “You always do.”

  • • •

  Slowing to sub-light speed some distance from Tu’oth’roor, the Apocalypse headed directly toward the capital planet of the Vr’amil’een. Never particularly friendly to humans, the aggressions of the Vr’amil’een had noticeably subsided after their Armada was dealt heavy losses in 3025. That overwhelming show of force, combined with not-so-subtle threats regarding the use of the Omega Cannon, had served to subdue the reptilian species for the past 15 years. Admiral Atgard realized, however, that the opportunistic and belligerent Vr’amil’een might not be as civil to the Apocalypse now that they believed the humans’ flagship and sole Omega Cannon to be destroyed.

  “Tactical scans, Dex,” requested the Admiral. Never one to take unnecessary risks, he had the Apocalypse on full combat alert.

  “Sensor scans calculate 314 ships in system. Forty-two warships, none larger than Corvette-class. None of them are powering weapons or moving along attack vectors.”

  Daniel studied the tactical panel carefully, his wrinkled brow revealing his intense concentration. Though there was nothing unusual so far—including the otherwise conspicuous absence of any Cruiser-class ships or larger, as per the Vr’amil’een Treaty—he did not intend to allow himself to grow complacent. “Slow to one-eighth light speed. Let’s go in nice and easy.”

  Zach complied, and the ship’s engines abated to a soft, resonating hum. The viewscreen showed the dark and foreboding planet of Tu’oth’roor, the mass of which almost completely eclipsed the sun. One of the advantages of a defending world in an assault was that the enemy had to come in far from the system’s center of gravity, and thus could not shield their arrival by coming in with the sun at their backs. Though some of the more advanced Confederation scanning systems, such as those on board the Apocalypse, could somewhat compensate for the immense radiation spewed forth by a star, having the sun at one’s back in an assault was a decided tactical advantage. Of course, the Admiral reminded himself, this was not an assault, and the Vr’amil’een would probably not even be expecting the Apocalypse, although their previous visits to other systems had hardly been done in complete secrecy. If they were watching, they would have been able to track the uncloaked Apocalypse's arrival for hours.

  “What is it, Admiral?” asked Anastasia. “You haven’t lifted your eyes from the tactical screen since we’ve arrived in-system.”

  “None of the ships are making any aggressive moves, Admiral,” added Dex. “Maybe they’re too worried about the Lucani Ibron to think about settling old scores.” The Admiral wondered if the Vr’amil’een had any idea Lieutenant Commander Rutcliffe, whose strategies routed their Armada 15 years ago, was aboard the sleek human ship that approached them.

  “That’s just it,” Daniel replied after a delay. “They’re too quiet. The Vr’amil’een don’t normally let a ship get this close without challenging it and demanding authorization.”

  “Remember, Admiral, they haven’t fired on a ship in ten years,” Dex put in. “Not since they destroyed the Devonshire and we passed the Ultimatum.”

  “No, they haven’t fired,” the Admiral said distractedly, his adept eyes still scanning the display. “But they still challenge unknown ships that enter their system. More a point of pride for them than a tactical maneuver … evolved from their sexual dominance rituals …” The Admiral’s eyes narrowed. “Zach, adjust course 20 degrees to starboard.”

  “Aye, Admiral,” replied Zach.

  “Sir, I haven’t detected any ships change course to intercept. And they’re not laying a trap, either … I extrapolated their current headings and our present course and there is not—”

  “Exactly, Dex,” the Admiral interjected. “Not one of the 42 military vessels has changed course so much as a degree since we’ve jumped in.”

  “But, sir, that doesn’t mean that they’re up to something. In fact, the Vr’amil’een are a notoriously aggressive race. As soon as
they know they have a tactical advantage, they will push it immediately. That’s how I got them to fall into my trap 15 years ago.”

  “Vr’amil’een military strategy is based on a state of constant readiness,” countered the Admiral. “As such, they make sure to change ship headings at random intervals to throw off an attacker’s advanced tactical calculations. It is almost numerically impossible that not one of those ships has not changed course since we have arrived. But you are right, Dex, they will push a situation as soon as it turns to their advantage, which means one of two things: one, they do not plan to attack us, or two,” the Admiral looked squarely at Dex, “the situation has not yet turned to their advantage. Zach, increase speed to two-thirds light. Let’s see if we can get their attention—or at least throw them off … get them to play their cards a little sooner than they had planned.”

  The hum of the Apocalypse's powerful engines magnified as the planet started to enlarge visibly. Suddenly, as the angle changed to place Tu’oth’roor out of the path of the sun, the profile of a large ship became visible on the viewscreen as it cleared the edge of the planet. A massive, oblong vessel, Battlecruiser-class at least, the ship sported numerous visible energy cannon emplacements and missile racks. Almost before the alarm klaxons began to sound, the Admiral’s resonant voice rang out. “Shields up! Evasive maneuvers!”

  As the Apocalypse pitched at a violent angle, bright lances of light began shooting out of the side of the Battlecruiser. Promptly joining the fray were the remaining 42 ships of the Vr’amil’een Armada.

  CHAPTER 6

  The veil of space enveloping the Apocalypse, ordinarily jet black, was ablaze with a hundred brilliant lances of light. Veering wildly, the nimble ship managed to evade most of the guns and lasers, but an ever-increasing number were finding their marks, rocking the well-shielded Apocalypse with each impact.

  “Zach, change course 32 degrees to port,” barked the Admiral. “Continue evasive maneuvers. Dex, return fire; concentrate on the Battlecruiser.”