by Rolf Nelson
First officer: Should we inform the passengers, sir?
Captain Soto: Of what? We’re about to die? We have a UFO? We’re stuck here for at least a month, and that’s most of the food we have? We have an ancient Orion-class warship we can’t possibly outrun screaming down on us, with unknown intent, from an old robot military base? No. Ignorant, happy, and quiet is fine by me. Crew is already on alert.
First Officer: Right, sir. Wait it is.
They watch tensely as it gets closer, larger and shines even more brightly. They look from the screens to out the portholes where they can see it with the unaided eye. Tajemnica flies rapidly out of the darkness, growing from a faint flickering dot into a full-sized ship surrounded by its own blazing aurora. Everyone on the bridge inhales sharply, winces, and braces in anticipation of a collision that doesn’t come. Tajemnica stops, hanging in the very near distance, nearly nose-to-nose, glow fading fast.
Com Tech: Signal, sir!
The main screen changes from an external camera view of Tajemnica to Helton, standing at the command station, nothing but blank bulkhead behind him. He’s dressed casually, unshaven, a little rough looking, but smiling and cheerful.
Helton: Welcome to Piper! Sorry if we gave you a scare. Ship just got a tune up, wanted to see what she could do. Need a lift?
DISSOLVE TO
INT - DAY - Tajemnica bridge
Helton: Sure this’ll work?
Stenson: (OC) No. Not sure about any of this. But we have to test it eventually, and the Colonel wants to get back out of The Deep to follow up on that contract message the Borealis had.
Quiritis: Ready as we’ll ever be. Give the word.
Helton: Word.
Bipasha: Smartass captain for a smartass ship.
Helton: What’s the word, then? Can’t use “engage” ‘cause I’m married. How about “time to swim in The Deep end.”
Allonia: I like that.
Quiritis nods, and works the controls.
CUT TO
EXT - NIGHT - Space, in high orbit above a gas giant
The starliner Borealis is floating in space, gas giant now far away in the background. Beside her floats Tajemnica, looking small and insignificant. Space around the Borealis brightens slightly, and then space starts glowing much more intensely around Tajemnica. The drive fields intersect and interfere with each other, and the field from Tajemnica extends, enveloping the starliner, growing more intense as it goes. The interference patterns brighten, then with a flash they disappear as the fields lock together. The illumination continues to intensify and spread as it pulls in tighter around the two ships, winking them out of this universe. The field dies away.
FADE TO BLACK
One Day War
Challenge
FADE IN
EXT - DAY - Space, transfer point in the dim light of a star five AUs away
A large and complex space station with many rings, branches, and docking points, drifts in its slow orbit around a distant yellow-orange star. Attached to the transfer station are dozens of ships: large passenger liners, deep space freighters, a military cruiser, sleek in-system craft, station tugs and maintenance craft, and just about every other type imaginable, including the Borealis. Nestled in among them, nearly alone on a branch with only two sleek interceptors on it, is Tajemnica’s angular form.
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Officer’s mess
Helton, Lag, Kat, Harbin, Bipasha, Allonia. The wall and table screens are filled with text and a star system planetary diagram with a dozen planets on it. The fourth planet is alone on one side of the star (12 o’clock position), with most of the planets are almost completely on the far side (between 5 and 7 o’clock positions). A gas giant is at the 3 o’clock position at the outside edge.
Kat: Language is pretty clear. Open offer. Anyone can show up to fight them at that time and tech-level.
Allonia: But that’s ridiculous, isn’t it? There must be billions that despise them. Even most other Muslims think they’re freaks. It’d be suicide.
Kat: Supporters can show up, too. No limit.
Bipasha: That nut has been tossed off how many planets? He can’t have that many, can he?
Lag: You might be surprised. Crazy, but very charismatic, talks a great afterlife. Pushes the Sharia “convert, submit, or die” very vigorously. Sells it well to the scraps of society; failures like being told they are victims, it’s not their fault, and they should be the rulers. Demagogues sell that line with lots of disastrous ideologies.
Harbin: Dustbowl is a hellhole, but he can’t get exiled because he’s the government.
Helton: Dustbowl? I thought it was New Medina.
Lag: Officially. Early colony there was founded by a radical religious sect, called it that. Once it was sort of going they kicked off or killed all the unbelieving hired labor and technicians. The sect promptly died off; they didn’t know how to use the machines and weren’t willing to work hard enough or learn. The buildings were taken over by another radical religious sect that liked the architecture, who did the same thing with the same result. Not enough terraforming machines, not enough water, same problems. They thought “God will provide” meant free stuff and didn’t include work or technology. Next group who took over was at least smart enough to make sure some of them could run the machines and grow food, so they squeaked though the Blackout. They were taken over by this nut claiming he’s the Mahdi, Allah’s final prophet, bringing the end times and all that. Still a very dry world. Low grav, thick air, easy farming in a few well-designed river valleys downhill from TFPs, but mostly a hellish dust world. Not enough water to trap and release heat or transport it globally, so it’s mostly hot in the day, cold at night, dusty year round.
Allonia: But this fight offer… It’s stupid. If they lose, they all die. If they win, they don’t gain anything!
Helton: Megalomaniacs are never after what makes sense to you or me.
Lag: I suspect you’re right. Timeline is tight. Tech limits are very low; a bit more than Roman era, no archery or siege weapons. One big flat spot. One day.
Harbin: And with that planetary alignment there’s no sneaking up around planets, but ships can transition unusually close to the planet. No telling what’s going to show up until it’s right on you. As a naval battle-field goes, not pretty.
Lag: (Thinking out loud) So he wants carnage. Why? Too many followers?
They all lean back to ponder.
Bipasha: They can’t make any money on it, even with video rights, which they don’t lock up.
Harbin: Don’t capture any land.
Kat: No specific people or groups challenged, so he’s not after a particular person.
Allonia: Capture people? Hostages and ransom?
Kat: Hmmm… Maybe, but wording on that is pretty standard. Wouldn’t make a lot, unless they broke contract and went down the piracy road. Risky. He’s a nut, but not a stupid one.
Helton: What if it’s not about the battle, but the challenge?
Lag: Meaning?
Helton: Some sort of propaganda value. Expect anyone to take it up?
Lag: On a timeline this tight, that restricted, no time for intel gathering or training… Not many. Certainly no professionals I know.
Helton: So, if every experienced swordsman looks at it, says “it’s a trap!” and ignores it, then either no one or a handful of wannabes with a grudge show up, and… what? What does he gain?
Ship AI: (OC) An old media tactic. Issue an absurd and general challenge with ridiculous claims, then when no one shows call all your opponents cowardly, weak, and immoral, by name, and congratulate your followers on their bravery and toughness for scaring them off. A media victory. If a few amateurs show up, beat them and claim a huge battlefield conquest, parading bodies and prisoners, gore and spectacle for the camera, saying they were the best the enemy had to offer. If you lose, run and do it again, while claiming a giant conspiracy of unbelievers that used trickery to win.
Harbin:
That’s him. Dishonorable. Most of the suicide and civilian bombings in the last five years are his followers. He makes stupid wars turn ugly, stirs up hate and division. Many will want to go after him. I lost a cousin three years ago to one of his chemical bombs.
Lag: A status fight, not a territory fight.
Bipasha: Sounds like a stretch. Level compliance guys with cameras would be everywhere.
Lag: But if he’s got his supporters running the observer teams and most of the cameras, they can effectively write the story by what they show and say. Like drones around the schoolyard bully.
Helton: Soooo… while this challenge is out there, what about going after just him, now, knowing he’s there?
Kat: Complicated legalities. Not smart. Much cleaner to get him on the field. Any assassination attempt that misses would play right into his hand if the propaganda angle is right. We can only be partially sure he’ll be there on that day. Likely hiding far away until the last second.
Helton: So he’s safe for a little while. Smart. At least safe from professionals, then he gets a propaganda win.
Lag: Current data on how far the message has gone, or projections on number of troops trained for this level that are available, or could get there in time?
Ship AI: (OC) Best guess, a few hundred well trained. The 13th Mountain Shield Company is off contract near New Medina. Lots of uncertainty, otherwise.
Lag: Damn. Excellent soldiers, but nowhere near enough. Last reports I saw said he might have thirty to fifty thousand followers at his complex. Even with guys that highly trained, a few hundred on an open field against fifty thousand is not a good match. Not a Thermopylae situation where quality counts more than quantity.
Helton’s eyes narrow thoughtfully, he rubs his chin for moment.
Helton: How long would it take to train guys from scratch?
Harbin: It takes years to fully train a good soldier.
Helton: No. Just some men in good shape for this.
Harbin: This tech level? Six months or so to be really good.
Helton: This battle. This planet. This one place. This one time. Few unknowns. Minimal maneuvering. This exact tech level. If they are already in decent shape, how long?
Harbin and Lag look at Helton hard, trying to figure out just what he’s getting at, or how he’s thinking about getting there. After a pause, Harbin answers.
Harbin: …Maybe three months to be solid. More or less, depending on the men, facilities, and the NCOs available.
Helton: How many would be the minimum you’d want to land with?
Lag: No less than two thousand. What do you have in mind?
A grin spreads slowly on his face. He pauses dramatically.
Helton: Time travel.
Gathering an army
DISSOLVE TO
INT - DAY - Borealis main dining room
Large and tastefully done with hundreds of diners. At the Captain’s table there are a dozen guests with Captain Soto, including Penger Trask and his wife (not seated together). They are clearly having a good time. In the background, through windows and on screens are various ships coming and going from the large orbital space station they are attached to. Helton and Lag walk briskly toward the table. As they approach, Captain Soto’s face lights up as he greets them.
Captain Soto: Ah, and here we have the hero of the hour, the man who rescued us from the swirl at Tau Piper! Welcome, welcome! Please, have a seat!
Soto motions to a waiter to bring more place settings. Trask smiles as he recognizes the pair of men, and waves cheerily in greeting. The pair walk to the table and waste no time getting right to the point, expressions blank.
Lag: We need your ship.
Captain Soto’s brow furrows and eyebrows shoot up, then several emotions play across his face.
Soto: I’m not sure I understand.
Helton: We’d like to charter your ship, the whole thing, for about three weeks universal time, starting now. About half your crew with it. Flight ops, food service, laundry, docs, massage and physical therapists, mostly. No live entertainment or luxury services. How much?
Captain Soto looks at them acutely, expression grave.
Soto: We do not normally permit charters. Are you serious?
Lag: As an incoming nuke. We can end a couple of wars, stop most terrorist bombings. How much?
Soto: This sort of thing would need a very high level of approval-
Penger Trask: I’ve worked with these two before, Captain. If they say it’s life and death, it is.
Helton: And I recall doing you a favor quite recently, where you would have been left stranded a lot longer than that.
There is an expectant silence at the table as everyone looks at Soto, deep in thought.
Helton: Your ship has less than two thousand passengers on board. There is space available for more than twice that on the station, and slots available on liners over the next two weeks for people to continue on their way. We are in a hurry.
Soto: How long expected subjective?
Helton: Three to four months.
Soto eyebrows shoot up. Again, his face is a play of emotion as he runs numbers, possibilities, and expectations.
Lag: We can provide most of the food along the way.
Soto: You are going someplace dangerous, I expect. Crew will want to be paid up front. Some passengers and crew will raise objections on contractual grounds… A hundred million in advance, for things to happen fast.
Lag and Helton wince at the price and condition.
Penger Trask: Done.
The others look at the CEO in astonishment.
Penger Trask: (To Helton and Lag) You saved my ass once, while taking risks to save others you didn’t know. Risks you were not being paid enough to take, but did because it was the right thing to do. I don’t know what you see coming, but if I can return the favor… (turning to Soto) consider it cash in the bank, Captain Soto. I know they are good for it, even if they don’t have it in their pocket this second.
The people at the table might be wealthy, but even they are not used to something that big, moving so fast. They hold a collective breath. Captain Soto sticks out his hand to Helton, they shake once, and it’s a done deal.
Helton: If you’d please make an announcement, we’d like to be detaching in an hour or less. We really are in a hurry.
Penger Trask: (Drolly) Are you ever not in a hurry?
Helton: Alternate Thursdays. Eat fast, unless you want to hitch a long ride.
FADE TO BLACK
Field Day
FADE IN
EXT - DAY - Training field on New Texas
Aerial view of a vast grassy plain in full, bright sun. A hectic Day One in an extremely large boot camp. There are thousands of young men in companies of a hundred or so running various speed, agility, and strength tests. Each company has a handful of guys in uniform, and they are racing individuals and teams against one another in a high-speed, highly competitive, multifaceted selection process. The guys in uniform are mostly broad shouldered, thick necked, mature men with short hair and severe expressions. The recruits range from 18 to 30 years old, and while mostly fairly fit looking, they are not all of a type. All ethnic backgrounds, builds, hair styles, and styles of dress are represented. Recruit have big alphanumerics on them, two letters and two numbers, separate companies having a different pair of letters. The uniforms running each test company have head-mounted cameras watching the action and carry simple tablets or e-readers that they occasionally consult. The recruits are being harshly tested and compared, sorted, ranked, and measured. The recruits are all sweating heavily, and numerous water barrels scattered around are being used.
They are running wind sprints, endurance test, simple obstacle courses, shoving matches with shields in a ring, shield wall spear practice, shield exercises, and every other devious and exhausting drill the men of the 13th Mountain Shields can put them through.
CUT TO
EXT - DAY - Tajemnica ramp near the edge o
f the training field
Lag, Harbin, and Helton watch the expanse of recruits. A company runs by the ramp in a very uneven formation. One of the guys falls out of line a moment, pukes, wipes his chin on the back of his sleeve, and doggedly gets back into the race.
Helton: All I can say is holy shit.
Lag: Why surprised? It’s your plan.
Helton: Our plan. But a plan is one thing, seeing it in action is… big.
Harbin: Don’t be modest. It’s your plan. We just filled in details.
Lag: And Taj helped no small amount on execution.
Helton: Joint effort, for sure. But picking up the 13th, making it here and having a sorting-out process for nearly ten thousand men in less than a week is unreal.
Lag: Being here before and having a reputation helped. Contacting every possible volunteer on the planet with a custom direct message, after a basic prescreening by medical and academic records helped immeasurably. They all show up, each with parts of the testing equipment. Poof, it happens. You’re right, though. With Taj helping run the screening data collection and an experienced infantry company to manage it on the ground, it’s got to be a record.
Helton: Didn’t think we’d get this many this fast.
Harbin: They had a suicide bomber recently. Lost more than twenty people, including a pair of pregnant ladies. It’s fresh on their minds. Records screen turned down three times this many applicants.
Lag: Don’t think they mind selling a few thousand sides of beef at a good price to support their men, either. Free training, excitement, revenge, be a part of history. Long list of reasons to be here.
Helton: So two days of this?
Harbin: Genetic and paper tests only tell you so much. Push a guy hard for a while in a highly competitive environment and the real person shows up.
Helton: But two days with no food, just hydrating and competition?
Lag: This battle will be an endurance test. We’ll be outnumbered ten to one at best. Possibly forty to one. Endurance and mental toughness when you can’t take a break will be more important than a little extra strength. They have to be fast enough, strong enough, smart enough. But for this fight there is no substitute for endurance. Keep going or die.
