by Neal Jones
"My previous assignment was the Tascenth starbase," Varis said, shifting into a more comfortable position. "Three months ago, we received a distress call from an EarthCorps mining facility in the Emr system. That system, along with the Tascenth starbase, is located in the Kesghad sector, which borders the Ttor Expanse."
Gabriel leaned forward, his frustration forgotten. "I've heard of the expanse. It's an area that's completely void of any star systems, nebula, and other typical spatial phenomena. If I remember correctly, it was once claimed by the Jha'Drok."
Varis nodded. "They gave it up as part of the deal which was brokered in the Treaty of 2543. It was one of the easier concessions, probably because there's nothing of worth in it." She paused and sipped her tanper. "Commodore, what do you know about garidium?"
Gabriel thought for a moment, then shook his head. "The name sounds familiar, and I assume it's an element, but other than that I don't know."
"Garidium was first discovered almost two centuries ago, and the Federation scientific team who studied it believed that they had found a nearly inexhaustible source of energy. Unfortunately, they quickly learned that garidium was highly unstable, and it caused the destruction of an entire university complex."
Now Gabriel remembered. "That's right. I read about that disaster at the academy. Vesusk-four, wasn't it?"
Varis nodded. "Ever since, the element has been outlawed in the Federation. The amount which caused that disaster was only an ounce, so you can imagine what a few pounds would be capable of. The Emr mining facility was drilling for triinium ore, and by the time we responded to their distress call, we discovered the entire crew slaughtered. Nothing had been stripped from the triinium mines, but several metric tons in garidium ore had been mined from one of the continents in the southern hemisphere. A detailed analysis showed that the Jha'Drok had been on the planet for at least four months, probably six, and they had apparently kept the Federation prisoners alive to use as slave labor. We still haven't figured out how they managed to get the garidium out of the system without our border drones detecting them, but they were able to clean out most of the planet's garidium supply."
Varis took a long sip of her wine, and Gabriel ran one finger around the rim of his glass as he digested this information.
"We haven't heard from the Jha'Drok - officially - since that treaty of '43," the commodore said quietly. "And now, a hundred and thirty-five years later, one of their spies shows up on my starbase, and their covert mining operations are exposed on one of our worlds." He looked at Varis. "In all that time, there's only been what – six, a dozen – border skirmishes, if that?"
The brantar rose to refill her glass. "That sounds about right. None of them amounted to anything more than the Jha'Drok rattling their swords to remind us they're still around."
Gabriel stood as well, pacing to the viewport as he took one last sip of his tanper. "And now the Haal'Chai show up with brand new raiders that are built with technology that's more advanced than anything the FCE currently has on their drawing boards." A sudden thought occurred to him, and he turned to Varis. "Suppose that we were able to stabilize garidium. What kind of technological uses could we gain from that kind of science?"
The brantar shrugged. "I don't know. But didn't a team from FCE arrive this morning?"
"Yes. They did." He started for the door. "Thank you for the wine, brantar, and yes, I'll take the bottle. I'll come back for it later."
Varis smiled from behind the rim of her tumbler as she watched the commodore exit. Working with him was definitely going to be...interesting.
( 8 )
Garrett had just finished introducing himself to the team from FCE when Gabriel entered the chief engineer's office without bothering to press the door chime.
"Excuse the interruption, commander, but I don't have a lot of time, and I was reviewing your analysis of the raider. Did you run any tests for garidium?"
Garrett and his team exchanged puzzled glances. "No, sir, I didn't. Garidium is a highly unstable element. No one in the Federation – or any of the other foreign powers in this quadrant, for that matter – have been able to successfully stabilize it."
"Assume for the moment that someone has. Run tests for garidium and let me know what you find."
"Yes, sir."
The commodore walked out the door without casting even a parting glance at the FCE team. Garrett turned to them and smiled. "That was Commodore Gabriel, commanding officer of Exxar-One."
"He's a lot taller in person," said team's only female member, a Tanzanite. One pair of hands rested on her hips, and the other pair was clasped leisurely behind her neck.
"You know those holo-cams," said Doctor Bishop, the team's only human member. "They subtract at least five inches and add ten pounds. All right, Kiran, now that the introductions are out of the way, why don't you show us this raider? We've wasted an hour already!"
Garrett laughed as he led them to the door. "Follow me."
( 9 )
Rosenberg entered the staff briefing room and was pleased to see that his senior officers were all present. Doctors McMullen and Rayburne were sitting opposite Doctor Eppler and a Chrisarii woman in civilian clothes. They were all silent, and the men looked as exhausted as Rosenberg felt. The Chrisarii's expression was neutral, her hands folded on the tabletop.
"I apologize for being late."
"It's all right, Ben," Rayburne said. "We've already covered the daily business, and Doctor Si'Kora has introduced herself." He nodded to the Chrisarii.
Rosenberg nodded. "Good. I've selected Doctor Si'Kora to replace Doctor Lom. Welcome to our team."
"Thank you." Si'Kora smiled, but it faded quickly, and she nodded politely once more to her colleagues.
"I'll meet with you this afternoon to go over some specifics regarding your position," Ben continued. "Since you've all discussed the daily business, I see no need to keep you any further. Unless anyone has something they want to add to the agenda, you're dismissed."
Everyone stood, but only Si'Kora left. Rosenberg glanced at his officers, puzzled. "Is there something you'd like to discuss, gentlemen?"
The three of them exchanged a glance, and McMullen was the first to speak. "Did you conduct a full background check on her before promoting her?"
Rosenberg blinked. "That's not standard procedure, so no, I didn't."
"Well, let's hope she doesn't blow up the ER because we're treating the victims of Lom's jihad," McMullen replied. He was the youngest of Ben's senior staff and Lab Chief of the medical sector.
The CMO slammed his compad on the table so hard that it cracked the screen. When he spoke, his voice was calm, but his words were clipped, and they fired at McMullen like pulser blasts. "If you choose to make another remark like that, doctor, I will bring you up on charges of insubordination and harassment. Is that clear?"
McMullen swallowed. "Yes, sir."
"Good." The CMO glanced at the other two men. "Either of you have a problem working with a Chrisarii?"
"No, sir."
"No, sir."
"Good. Dismissed."
The trio made a quick exit, and Rosenberg sighed as he sank into his chair at the head of the table.
( 10 )
"That's it?" Gabriel instantly regretted the sharpness of his tone, but since it was Hazen he was talking to, he knew the admiral would forgive it.
"I'm sorry, Marc. Truth be told – and off the record – I think that what we've got is a case of too many cooks in the kitchen. The brass has requested Parliament's help, mainly because of how diplomatic relations with the Chrisarii have been affected by the Vorik murders and the suicide bombing, and as of an hour ago, Parliament has authorized an ad hoc committee to look into this whole situation. And now, because of the Jha'Drok prisoner, FCI has gotten involved. Vice Admiral Bullock has been in seclusion with Senior Director Caine for the last two hours." Hazen sighed and rubbed his temple. "Right now, Marc, just do –"
"- the best you can," the commodore
finished. "I should have that engraved on a plaque to sit beside my computer."
Hazen smiled wanly. "For what it's worth, you've handled yourself much better than I expected. In fact, as far as the brass is concerned, you're doing a good job. Most of them understand the pressure you're under, and I've been surprised by the amount of support for you that they've expressed to me."
Gabriel was so stunned that he almost sat before he realized that he was standing in the middle of his office. He had decided to have this conversation with Hazen via the wall screen instead of the terminal on his desk.
"I'm glad that I could deliver some good news," Hazen said after a moment.
Gabriel shook his head. "Are you sure that you've been relaying all of my reports correctly? Admiral, this station has been everything but a war zone, and after yesterday's incident, I fully expect to have most of the population up in arms by this time next week. How the hell can you and the brass think that I'm doing a good job??"
Hazen cleared his throat as he leaned closer to the screen. "Marc, I have to be honest with you, and the reason I'm telling you this now instead of when I gave you your orders is because I knew you wouldn't understand what I'm about to say until you were hip deep in this shit." He paused. "The committee of officers who were tasked with the project of building Exxar-One and then overseeing its personnel assignments were stunned when construction was actually completed on time. They had expected setbacks of greater damage and significance than the minor terrorist incidents that did occur. They were even more surprised when the station came on line without incident, but most of them still expected the worst by the time you were given your assignment as commanding officer." He paused once more, locking his gaze with Gabriel's. "No one – and I repeat – no one on that committee expected Exxar-One to be intact by this date. The fact that you and your senior officers have managed to hold that station together this long is a miraculous feat by the brass' standards, and most of them are ready to give you a commendation in your permanent record. You'll probably get more than that if you can survive this whole situation, but don't let this go to your head too quickly. My guess is, we have yet to reach the darkest hour of this long night, but the fact that you've made it this far is commendable. So take some comfort in that. In the meantime, I suggest you and Major Saveck hold another press conference. As long as the two of you can present a united front, it just might be enough to keep your crew in line. And as long as they stay on top of all this, the civilian population won't be too much of a problem. I wish I could give you better advice, but there's no quick solution to a mess like this. You and I both know better."
Gabriel sighed as he nodded.
"I have to go, Marc. Keep me updated, and if you still want to request a transfer when all of this is over – assuming, of course, that the situation resolves itself sometime in the next couple months – then I'll do everything I can to make it possible."
"Thanks, Will. I'll probably take you up on that. Gabriel out." He terminated the call and shut off the screen, then stopped in his tracks as he replayed in his head what he had just said. His use of the word "probably" surprised him. A transfer is what he had wanted from the moment Hazen issued him this assignment, so why hadn't he said "definitely". His frown deepened as he plopped into his chair and faced the computer screen. A dozen different windows were opened, and four compads were stacked next to the keyboard. Another stack of hardcopy reports were next to the pads, and as he stared at the mess, Gabriel arrived at an uncomfortable – yet sensible – realization:
He was starting to enjoy his new job.
At first thought, this revelation was absurd. Who the hell would look forward to dealing with suicide bombings, press conferences, civil unrest, high profile murders and, on top of all that, stacks of daily paperwork which were never less than three inches thick? Only an idiot who possessed a miraculous immunity to the indigestion and heartburn that was brought on by such a constant level of stress would enjoy the position in which Gabriel now stood. Only a moron would relish four hours of sleep a night, persistent headaches, and a lack of anything resembling "free time".
And yet, the more Gabriel thought about it, the more sense it made. He had earned top grades in most of his classes at the academy because of his work ethic. His desire to make his father proud had driven him to excel at everything. If that meant sacrificing a few nights at the local bar with his fellow cadets in order to brush up on McCormack's Diplomacy Protocols for the mid-term, then so be it. Each success only made him hungrier for the next challenge, and he had always known that he wanted a command of his own. The naval brass didn't hand out starships to just anyone. One had to prove oneself capable of handling the pressures and rigors of commanding a ship and crew, and Marcus Gabriel had passed every exam, every board of inquiry. There had been a few setbacks, but they were minor, and only four years had passed since Admiral Hazen had placed the third silver bar on Gabriel's epaulet.
Now there were four bars, and as much as Gabriel hated to admit it, he was getting some kind of perverse pleasure from being at the center of all this chaos. In fact, he had never been one to sit on his ass for any length of time. During his tenure aboard the Dauntless as her captain, he had only taken shore leave when his senior staff had ganged up on him, led by Doctor Burke, of course. And even then Gabriel had tried to sneak a few quarterly reports or crew evaluations into his briefcase before leaving his quarters. The uniform and the various burdens and responsibilities which came with it had consumed Marc from the moment had had received his letter of acceptance into the EarthCorps Naval Academy, and as he pressed the command on his keyboard to send his computer into its sleep mode, he realized that he didn't want it any other way. If he were truly honest with himself, he would admit that he had started to get bored with his command of the Dauntless. Since the war had ended, and because the Dauntless wasn't officially classified as a science and exploration vessel, there hadn't been a lot of crisis situations in the last four years, certainly not ones like what Gabriel was facing now. While he and his crew had had their share of excitement, there had been many occasions when the captain had secretly wished for something more, a challenge or a crisis that would last for more than a few days or a couple weeks.
Now, after his wish had been granted, and after almost a month of wading "hip deep in this shit", as Admiral Hazen had put it, Gabriel was mildly surprised to learn how well he was actually adapting. He'd never thought of it before, but Hazen was right. The station was still intact. There wasn't much else to celebrate at the moment, but that fact alone was worth something, and Gabriel narrowed his eyes in a thoughtful expression as he rested his elbows on his desk and his chin on his fists. The admiral was also correct when he said it was time for another press conference, but Gabriel was going to include more than just himself and Saveck. He pressed his commlink and opened a connection to Ambassador Zar.
( 11 )
Ben arrived home to find his wife and daughter playing with Lego blocks in the middle of the living room floor.
"Look, daddy!" Emalie exclaimed, holding up something that resembled a house with a rocket boosters attached to the foundation.
"It's a rocket house," Jennifer explained as she got to her feet. She looked at Ben and nodded to the kitchen door.
"You wanna build somethin', daddy?" Emalie scooped up two armfuls of Legos. "Mommy bought me a whole bunch of sets!"
"I will in a minute, tater tot. I'm going to help mommy get dinner started and then I'll come play with you. We'll have a whole hour. I promise."
The little girl seemed satisfied with this and immediately began adding a pair of wings to her rocket house. Ben followed Jennifer into the kitchen, and he didn't need ESP to sense the almost visible aura of tension surrounding his wife. Whatever it was they were about to discuss, he wasn't going to like it.
"You bought her Lego sets? She already has two buckets."
Jennifer began punching commands into the food processor's console. "She wanted to know why
I was picking her up early from preschool. A shopping trip was the best excuse I could think of at the time. I didn't expect her to throw such a fuss when I arrived."
"So she really likes it there." Ben grabbed the plates and silverware.
"Yes." Jennifer grimaced, clearly not happy with this fact.
"Why did you pick her up early?"
"Ben, I'm taking Emalie back to Earth. We're going to stay with my mother."
It took him a moment to digest her statement. "When are you leaving?"
"Monday afternoon."
"This is because of the bombing."
"Yes, but that's not the only reason. It's this whole place, Ben. I couldn't take Emalie to get toys and an ice cream sundae without having to witness protest groups on the promenade with armed soldiers close by to keep the peace. All I've been able to think about for the last two hours is what would have happened if one of the protestors had decided to get violent. What if a stray pulser blast from a Marine's rifle had hit Emalie?" Her voice broke and she turned away, swiping at her eyes.
Ben moved to comfort her, but Jennifer pushed him away. He had walked through the promenade on his way home, just to see for himself what his colleagues had been talking about that afternoon. A group of human civilians had gathered near the Chrisarii cathedral to protest the violence. Ben was not at all surprised by his wife's response to the situation.
"I understand your decision," he said softly, "but you should know that I'm not requesting a transfer. This is my assignment for the next three years. I'm sure that this is all going to die down eventually. When it's over, you and Emalie can come back."
The processor beeped, signaling that dinner was ready. Jennifer walked to it and pressed the key that opened the door. She set the platter of baked chicken and the bowl of rice in the center of the table. She faced her husband. "We'll see."
"What? Jen, no! This absence is temporary. You and Emalie are coming back. It'll be two months, at most, before all of this dies down."
