“Just like the Korgians,” Daniel whispered, appalled. He knew she was also horrified by the order.
“Maybe this is why you could never get your Ethics Review Board proposal passed,” ventured Anastasia.
“Yeah, well, it sure would help us now,” Daniel sighed. “Maybe there would be some way we could stop this.”
“What are we going to do, Admiral?”
“First of all, I’m no longer an Admiral,” he corrected her. “They’ve demoted me.”
“Bastards.”
“Well, that’s not the worst of it. The worst of it is that I am ‘relieved of all duties indefinitely.’ They want to just shuffle me out of the way down here until the crisis is over.”
There was a flash of anger that coursed like a bolt of lightning through Anastasia’s sky-blue eyes. “Are they mad?” she cried. “Don’t they know you’re our only hope?”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but there’s really—”
“Do you still have the ZF-255?” she interjected.
Daniel could not help but smile. He knew Anastasia well enough to know where the question was leading. “I know what you’re thinking—no, you can’t sneak me on board. There’s—”
“Sure I could,” she replied, deliberately misconstruing Daniel’s use of the word can’t to mean “are not able to.” “Hell, I’ll cloak the damned ship and land it in your backyard if I have to.”
“No, no,” laughed the Captain. “I can’t let you do that. We’re all in enough trouble already. If you ever pulled a stunt like that, they’d probably try you all for treason.”
Anastasia opened her mouth in rebuttal, but the Captain held up a hand to silence her.
“You know I won’t let you do it, ‘Stasia,” he said firmly. “It’s out of the question.” She had known him long enough to realize that he would not be swayed.
“So what are we going to do, Admiral?” she repeated, intentionally referring to him by his former title.
“I don’t know, Ana,” he sighed. “I just don’t know.”
CHAPTER 10
The tumultuous sea of liquid metal swirled and gyrated in a pattern both dangerously beautiful and violently exquisite. It was all Daniel could see, as if he had fallen into an infinite abyss of the entrancing fluid. He strained his muscles to free himself from the writhing broth, which felt cold and slimy against his naked body. Suddenly, he was out of the quagmire, floating up and away from the horrible liquid.
As he receded from it, he could begin to see what it was: the convolving outer sphere of the Lucani Ibron ship. Inexplicably, he traveled away from the spherical vessel, and looked to his left to see the enormous Indomitable, which imposingly dwarfed the alien ship. The Indomitable, oddly, was not its normal lustrous white, but instead a dull gray, bland and nondescript except for its impossible size. Shining like a small star on the near side of the Juggernaut was a single tiny fightercraft, casting immaculate white light in all directions. Daniel was quite some distance away now, suspended somehow in space, and he could see a beam of light begin to emerge from the alien vessel.
Everything happened slowly, slowly enough that Daniel had time to look to see the light beam exiting the rear of the Indomitable before the white ball of light shot out and traveled along the anchoring light beam. He watched as it traveled slowly but inexorably toward the mighty Indomitable, watched as it disappeared with a brief flash into her immense nose. It took some time before the explosions began, the horrible, booming explosions that would be the death knell of the invincible Juggernaut. Boom, boom, boom, boom … .
• • •
Daniel awakened with a start. Groggily, he fought to regain consciousness, though the booming had not abated. His mind was clouded by fatigue, and took a moment to respond. Belatedly he realized someone was knocking rather forcefully at the front door.
By the time he had put on his robe and walked downstairs, Tara had already answered the door, an odd look on her face. Plato barked dutifully, though Tara held him back from the door’s opening.
Walking into the foyer, Daniel could see that it was a young Confederation soldier standing just outside. Though bright sunlight streamed in through the doorway, the Captain could hear the sound of rain rapping against the windows.
Tara stepped aside as Daniel approached the doorway. “Captain Atgard,” the soldier began, “I have been ordered to escort you back to Confederation Headquarters immediately.”
“What in the hell do they want with me now?” asked the Captain, rubbing his eyes as they slowly grew accustomed to the sunlight.
“I have no knowledge of ConFedCom’s intentions, sir,” he replied nervously. “I have just been ordered to—”
“Escort me back immediately,” Daniel finished for him. “Yes, yes, I know.” His eyes finally adapted enough to allow him to see the three other Confederation soldiers standing behind the Lieutenant, one of whom was a massive Vamalian whose three muscular arms gripped a heavy weapon of unknown design. A waiting aircar, pelted by rain whipped into sheets by the gusting winds, hovered outside.
Shrugging his soldiers, the Captain turned to walk back into the house. “I’ll be ready in a moment,” he called congenially over his shoulder.
The young Lieutenant exhaled heavily, slumping noticeably from his earlier rigid military posture.
Tara shook her head and smiled. She, too, realized the young soldier was just following orders, and was probably terrified about coming to retrieve the renowned Daniel Atgard. “Why don’t you come in for a drink while we wait?” she invited him.
“That would be very nice, ma’am,” he replied, obviously relieved. Catching himself, he amended, “But I really don’t think I should … .”
“Don’t argue with her,” called the Captain as he turned into the hallway, smirking. “You’ll never win.”
• • •
Casually tossing the last of his things into his silver duffel bag, the Captain silently wondered what the eminent minds at the ConFed Capitol Building had in store for him this time. Perhaps they had come to their senses, he reasoned, but more likely they needed him for something. Or maybe they would demote him again. He shrugged dispassionately.
He walked back into the foyer to find his wife walking in through the door, a tray covered with empty glasses in her hands. “I thought they might be thirsty,” she smiled, putting the tray down and offering Daniel an umbrella. He shook his head, and she reluctantly put it down and embraced him. “I can’t believe you’re leaving again,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Just when I thought you might be staying for a while.”
“I know, Tara,” he replied. “I know. Maybe they just want to yell at me a bit and then they’ll let me come back.” He tried unsuccessfully to make himself sound convincing.
“Is that what you want?” she asked carefully.
Daniel sighed as he released her. “You know I belong up there, Tara. Maybe they’ll realize that too.”
Tara shook her head, thick tresses of her brown hair falling over her face. Daniel knew there were many things she wanted to tell him, but all she chose to say was “I love you.”
“I love you too, Tara,” he said solemnly, kissing her once more. “I love you too.”
With that, he walked out the open door and off the porch. The rain, which had mostly abated, sent a brief but violent shiver through his just-awakened body. Squinting slightly, Daniel followed the Lieutenant into the large aircar. He felt unusually energetic as he strapped himself into the seat, figuring that at least he felt refreshed and ready for whatever inanity ConFedCom had in store for him. Daniel admitted he was rather surprised that they had wanted to see him again so quickly. It was also unusual that they had sent a detail of four soldiers, including a Vamalian, to get him. The most surprising thing of all, thought the Captain, was that he had slept until noon.
• • •
The aircar ride was short and uneventful, and the trip down the transport tube went much as before: a silent
escort accompanied him to the sub-basement and remained on the transport tube as the Captain continued through the checkpoint and down the metal-walled hallway. This time, however, one of the guards directed him to proceed to the second hallway, at the end of which was the President’s personal meeting room and office.
The door at the end of this hall also was flanked by two guards who opened the door and granted the Captain entry. This door, unlike all the others he had seen in the sub-basement, was made of a dark wood instead of the familiar cold metal. As soon as he had walked inside, the guards promptly closed the door behind him.
Daniel had only been in the President’s personal office twice before, and only once in the five years Stadler had been in office. It was much as he remembered it, however—everything was kept meticulously clean and ordered, the Presidential Seal dominated the center of the plush rug in the middle of the room, and the rich wood desk was almost completely devoid of papers, data plates, or anything else that might prove useful to getting anything done.
“Do sit down,” requested the President, sitting in an ornate wooden chair behind the large desk. He motioned to the lone chair across from him. The Captain obliged, sitting quietly on the chair and clasping his hands neatly in his lap.
“Perhaps I was a bit harsh yesterday,” the President began, not quite managing to sound apologetic. “Perhaps I acted in haste.”
Daniel remained silent. He must want something, he thought, and I had better wait to find out what it is.
The President was also silent for some time. His eyes passed over Atgard, measuring him wordlessly. Finally, he rose from his seat and walked around to sit on the near edge of the desk to the Captain’s left. “Daniel,” he began, “why don’t we both try to make this easy on each other?”
“What is it you would like me to do?” asked the Captain coyly.
The President sighed. “Very well. Look—I don’t want to fight with you anymore, Daniel. I never did.” He paused for a moment, shaking his head wearily. “I think we need each other, and I think we both need to be big enough to put our personal differences aside on this one. I need to respect your autonomy … and you need to respect my authority.”
Well, at least he was blunt and honest, Daniel thought. He respected that.
The President continued. “I know you’re one of my best people, Daniel. That’s why I entrusted you with the Apocalypse. I know you are as well respected as any officer in the Confederation.” He shook his head again. “I sure as hell know how loyal your crew is.”
Daniel’s head perked up a bit. So that’s what this was about … .
“Look, Daniel, here’s the situation,” said the President quickly. “Commander Mason has cloaked the Apocalypse and is refusing to communicate with us until you are put back in charge.”
Daniel tried in vain to subdue the smile that fought its way to his lips, but he could not help but be overwhelmed by his crew’s unflagging loyalty.
“I see you support their insubordination,” shot the President. “It appears they learned the trait from you.”
The smile disappeared from Daniel’s face. “I’ll follow your orders, Mr. President, as long as they are orders I can live with.”
“In that case, it’s not really following orders at all, now is it?” he demanded.
“I must answer to higher orders than yours, sir.”
“And don’t I?” asked the President, raising his voice. “What in the hell do you think I do? Do you think I’ve asked you to do anything out of weakness, or malice, or personal gain? Do you think I take my decisions lightly?”
Daniel thought about Stadler’s words. He did not doubt the President’s intentions. And he did realize that if the chain of command was ignored, there would be anarchy. But he could never bring himself to follow orders he believed to be unethical.
The President rose and walked to the side of the room, pacing along the left wall. He stopped beneath a portrait hung prominently in its center. “Sometimes, a leader must take a great evil upon himself,” he began, “in order that others may be saved.” He turned to look at Daniel. “Even if it costs him his own salvation, both in this world, and the next.”
“Peter the Great,” murmured Daniel, looking up to gaze upon his stately likeness.
“Yes,” said the President. “He realized that great decisions are never black and white. Believe me, Daniel, I see your side. Killing those Creelarians would have been a great tragedy.”
“It would have been genocide,” Daniel corrected him.
“Yes,” Stadler sighed, walking over and sitting back in his chair. “But what do we face now that you didn’t fire?”
Daniel was silent.
“I know there is no right answer to this one, Daniel. Sometimes there just is no right decision.”
Daniel shook his head. “I couldn’t do it, sir,” he said softly. “I just couldn’t do it. I can’t kill two billion innocent people.”
“Even to save ten billion more?”
“It’s just that …” The Captain sighed as he looked across the room toward another portrait, this one of the Indomitable and her hidden Omega Cannon, the Cannon that had destroyed the entire Korgian race in one horrifying instant. “I’m just not so sure we’re all so innocent anymore.”
• • •
Before he knew it, the shuttlecraft had arrived. Daniel had spent the time staring out the viewport, not looking at the magnificent view of Earth below, but instead at the empty space around her.
Up ahead was the Apocalypse, and as the shuttlecraft docked with the larger vessel, Daniel realized just how glad he was to be going back aboard. It was, after all, where he was supposed to be. Even one day away had seemed like an eternity.
Daniel stepped off the vessel and the airlock sealed behind him. After a brief delay to equalize the pressure, the inner airlock door opened with a hiss, revealing Anastasia and Alexis. Anastasia said nothing, but instead hugged him vigorously. Behind her, Alexis called, “Good to have you back aboard, Admiral.”
Daniel smiled. Though Stadler had officially re-granted him the title, he realized that it scarcely mattered to his crew. “It’s good to be back,” he said. He looked at Anastasia sternly. “You know, you could have been court-martialed for that little cloaking stunt … .”
Anastasia feigned an innocent look. “Were we cloaked? Alexis, did the Quantum Refractor engage itself again?”
Alexis smiled and played along, thoughtfully stroking her chin with her hand. “You know, it has been doing that quite a bit lately. Maybe I should get down and check it out.”
“Yes, maybe you should,” laughed the Admiral. “It would be unfortunate if that were to happen again.”
“I’m pretty sure I can fix it now,” said Alexis. “I don’t think we’ll have any more problems.” With that, she smirked and walked away.
Daniel looked at Anastasia. “So did you have everyone in on this?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said seriously. “The vote was unanimous. In fact …” She looked down the short hallway in the direction Alexis had gone. “Most of them insisted on it.”
• • •
Once back on the bridge, in his familiar command chair, the Admiral got to work immediately. “Dex, has the ZF-255 been returned to the docking bay?” he inquired.
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “The ZF-255 is secure and the shuttlecraft has disengaged.”
“Very good, Mr. Rutcliffe. Nathan, plot a course for the Tu’oth System, all possible speed.”
“Aye, sir,” he replied, and Daniel thought he sensed an inordinate amount of enthusiasm from the normally reserved Fedoran.
“What are we going to do?” asked Anastasia. “What will we do once we get there?”
“Well,” began the Admiral, “luckily the President had a change of heart. He has left the specifics in my capable hands.”
“The specifics?” she asked, cocking her head slightly.
“Well, Anastasia,” he said coyly, his right
eyebrow raising half a centimeter, “when you get right down to it, isn’t everything specifics?”
Dex laughed loudly. “I guess you’re right,” Anastasia agreed. “So what’s the plan?”
“I plan to find out what in the hell is going on here,” Daniel replied. “I plan to find out what our friends on Tu’oth’roor are up to.”
“How are we going to do that?” Dex asked.
“I’m glad you asked,” answered the Admiral, swiveling in his chair to face him, “because you and I are going down there to find out.”
CHAPTER 11
The Admiral’s eyes were fixed on the fluorescent numbers that slowly counted down on his display console. The background hum of the hyperdrive engines permeated the bridge, broken only by the almost inaudible tapping of Nathan’s fleshy tentacles on his navigation console.
“Should I prepare to return to sublight speed, Admiral?” he asked, the characteristic hint of nervousness evident in his modulating voice.
“Not yet,” replied the Admiral deliberately. His gaze still rested on the display, which showed a yellow dot rapidly approaching a large, shaded ellipse. Just below that, the numbers ticked inexorably toward zero.
Nathan cleared his throat, an odd, phlegmatic sound. “My display reads five seconds to optimal realspace emergence point, sir.”
“Yes,” murmured the Admiral absently. “So does mine.”
The Admiral, perfectly composed, watched as the numbers counted down to zero and the yellow dot representing the ship flashed orange. A short ping from the bridge speakers followed shortly thereafter, preceding the familiar, monotonous voice of the computer. “Minimum recommended hyperspace exit point exceeded,” it reported. “Twenty seconds to hyperspace destabilization.”
Though the computer said it calmly, “hyperspace destabilization” actually meant that the ship would be destroyed, passing too close to the deadly gravity well of the Tu’oth System.
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