by Smith, Glenn
“Are we?” Benny asked, letting his own coffee sit and cool. “The inherent ability to act in the absence of orders is an important trait of a good leader.”
“Yeah, I know,” Dylan said as he followed Benny’s example and set his coffee aside to cool. “They taught us that in the Primary Leadership course at the N-C-O Academy. But that distinction seems a little flimsy in this case if you ask me. I mean, look at the specifics of the mission—at the finality of its consequences. Do you honestly believe the president would have left any doubt in the admiral’s mind if she’d decided against pursuing it?”
“Honestly? No, I don’t,” Benny admitted, shaking his head. “I think she would have very clearly and specifically ordered him to stand down, but maybe she didn’t make her decision prior to him sending us out here.”
“Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that,” Dylan confessed.
“Granted,” Benny continued, “the admiral’s career has had its share of bumps and rough spots over the years, but until we receive information to the contrary, I’d prefer to give the admiral the benefit of the doubt.”
“Yeah,” Dylan agreed. “That’s fair, I guess.”
“There’s no guessing involved, Dylan,” Benny clarified. “It is fair and we owe him that. As you say, look at the specifics of the mission.”
Benny paused for a moment to consider what else to say, and what not to say. While he was right about everyone assigned to the outpost having a special security clearance, none of them had a need to know the details of Dylan’s mission. Even though it had been stopped cold, the Timeshift Resolution was still classified ‘Top Secret,’ and that classification would remain in effect until someone with the authority to do so downgraded it.
“Or better still,” he almost whispered when he continued, “consider the alternative. You know what’s at stake here, Dylan. You know what the Coalition worlds are facing. If you ask me, Admiral Hansen had a pretty damn good reason for going forward, orders or not.”
Dylan did as Benny suggested. He considered the alternative to going forward with the mission. The pictures that flashed through his mind—pictures of war, pictures of the slaughter of millions, pictures of the destruction of whole worlds including the Earth—were every bit as bleak as those Admiral Hansen had painted for him during his mission briefing. Benny had a point. “I guess I can’t argue with that,” he finally said.
“Exactly. And if I know Admiral Hansen half as well as I think I do, then I have to believe that he thought the mission to be absolutely necessary.”
“Oh, he thought it necessary all right,” Dylan ardently confirmed, nodding his head. “You’re definitely right about that, Benny. But for someone so high up in the chain of command to have even maybe disobeyed the orders of the Commander-in-Chief...” He shrugged. “I guess I’m just not used to seeing something like that.”
“Given where you come from, that’s understandable. You’re used to strict obedience.”
“You’ve got that right.”
“But we’re not talking about the Rangers here, Dylan,” Benny reminded him. “Or about the Corps, or even the Military Police. We’re talking about a three-star admiral. Still, even if he did disobey presidential orders, I’m sure he didn’t do so lightly.”
Dylan picked up his mug and sipped his coffee again—still very hot, but drinkable—then asked, “So what do you think will happen to us now?”
Benny shrugged. “My guess is we’ll be ordered to return to Earth immediately.”
“Think we’re in trouble?”
Benny shook his head. “I doubt it,” he answered as he reached for his coffee. “As far as we knew we were obeying the lawful orders of a superior officer. No one can punish us for that.”
Dylan snickered. “Sure they can,” he said. “You’re talking about the military, remember? If someone high enough up in the food chain wants us punished, they’ll find a reason to punish us. You can bet Akagi will push for it.”
Benny sipped his coffee, then asked, “That’s a pretty cynical attitude to have, don’t you think?”
“Based solely on past observations.”
“The past observations of an N-C-O, correct?”
“Yeah. So what?”
“So you’re a commissioned officer now,” Benny explained, visibly disappointed. “You need to keep such attitudes to yourself for the sake of your subordinate troops’ morale.”
“What subordinate troops?” Dylan asked. Then he pointed out, “I’m not in a leadership position here, Benny. I don’t have any subordinate troops. And no offense intended, but if being a commissioned officer means I can’t speak my mind, then I’d rather resign my commission.”
“Captain Sedelnikov and Lieutenant Graves, please report to Commander Akagi’s office immediately,” the deputy commander’s voice called out from the speakers in the ceiling, cutting off Benny’s response. “Captain Benjamin Sedelnikov and Lieutenant Dylan Graves, report to Commander Akagi’s office.”
Dylan sighed. “What now?” he asked rhetorically.
“Perhaps Commander Akagi has received his clarification,” Benny surmised as he stood.
“This fast?” Dylan asked as he, too, stood up.
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
They pushed their chairs in under the table, then headed for the commander’s office, leaving their coffee behind.
* * *
“Come in, gentlemen,” Akagi said, smiling warmly as he stood up behind his desk.
Dylan and Benny looked around as they entered Akagi’s office for the first time. It was small and sterile, more the size of a walk-in closet than of an office, and completely impersonal. A small standard-issue falsewood table with shortened legs and a computer terminal on top served as the commander’s desk. There were no paintings or prints hanging on the dreary gray walls, no antique books lined up on the nearly empty shelves, and no family holophotos or little bobbles or trinkets or knick-knacks of any kind anywhere. There wasn’t even a Federation flag or a Solfleet crest behind him. Overall, the office looked more like an afterthought than a commanding officer’s domain—like a small, impromptu workspace that had been hastily thrown together long after the facility’s construction had been completed.
“Please forgive the starkness of my office,” the commander politely requested. “I don’t spend a lot of time in here. As I explained earlier, I’m much more of a scientist than I am an administrator. I prefer to spend my time at the Portal or in the research labs.” He gestured toward the pair of thinly padded fold-out chairs in front of his so-called desk. “Please, gentlemen, have a seat. Make yourselves comfortable.”
“You’re in an awfully good mood all of the sudden,” Benny observed as all three of them sat down.
“With good reason, Captain,” Akagi expounded. “Things are finally looking up.”
“What do you mean, sir?” Dylan asked. Benny was right. Akagi was in an awfully good mood, acting much friendlier, much more personable than he had at any time since their arrival. He was obviously very pleased about something, and Dylan suspected it was something more than just the fact that his mission had been scrubbed.
“I just heard from the president’s office again,” Akagi told them. “Admiral Hansen has been arrested.”
“Arrested!” Dylan exclaimed. “For what?” In truth there couldn’t be much question as to ‘for what,’ but he’d asked anyway.
“This so-called mission of yours, whatever it might have been, wasn’t just unauthorized, Lieutenant,” Akagi calmly explained. “The president’s go-ahead was a specific prerequisite to its initiation. Not only did she never give that go-ahead, she specifically told Admiral Hansen not to go forward with the mission, before your mission briefing.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk. “By disclosing the existence of the Portal and sending you out here with orders to go through it, Admiral Hansen willfully disobeyed a presidential directive.”
“You seem awfully pleased about that, Commander,” Be
nny charged.
Akagi turned his eyes to Benny. “Not at all, Captain,” he rebutted. “It’s never a pleasing thing to hear that a fellow officer is in trouble with the law.”
“Bullshit,” Dylan mumbled.
Akagi glared at Dylan. “Excuse me, Lieutenant?”
“I said bullshit, Commander,” Dylan boldly repeated, glaring right back at him. “Captain Sedelnikov is right. You look like you couldn’t be more pleased.”
As if by some black magic incantation, the enmity and spite that Dylan and Benny had quickly grown accustomed to in Akagi at once reemerged in his demeanor. “Look here, you cocky little junior grade son-of-a...”
“At ease, Commander!” Benny barked. “The lieutenant’s right and you know it. You said it yourself yesterday when we arrived. Admiral Hansen has been...how did you put it?...‘grilling’ you every few days over the comm-channels.”
Though he looked about ready to scream at the top of his lungs—Benny had no doubt hit pretty close to the mark—Akagi held his tongue...for a few seconds at least. But then he stood up and leaned slightly forward on his hands. “You know what, Captain?” he asked, sarcastically overemphasizing Benny’s rank. “I have nothing but admiration and respect for you and I’ve gone out of my way to show you that respect because you deserve nothing less. But I’m getting a little tired of your treating me like some kind of inexperienced junior officer. You may hold a higher rank than I do, but yours is a retired rank. Technically, I’m not required to obey your orders or abide by your decisions, and I’m certainly not required to let you push me around.”
Benny stared at him for a moment in silence, then stood up and leaned close, mirroring his posture and nearly touching his nose with his own. “My rank is semi-retired, Commander, so would you like to bet your career on it?” he quietly asked as he continued to stare him in the eye without even blinking.
The contest of wills lasted only a moment longer before Akagi backed off. “The two of you have been ordered back to Earth for debriefing,” he said as he straightened.
“Says who?” Dylan asked. “You or Central Command?”
“Central Command,” Akagi answered flatly as he sat down again. Benny followed suit. “But I sure as hell won’t cry over your departure.”
“Comm-room to Commander Akagi,” the panel on his desk suddenly called out.
Akagi reached out and tapped the ‘channel open’ button. “Go ahead.”
“We’re receiving another message from Earth, sir.”
“Pipe it in here, Mister Petrakos,” Akagi said, sitting straight with an air of superiority about him as he turned his monitor so his visitors could see it as well. Whatever the message might be, he was obviously expecting it.
“Yes, sir.”
The seconds passed in silence as they waited. Then a face appeared on the screen. An ashen, sweat-soaked, soot-smudged face wide-eyed with urgency. It clearly was not the face that Akagi had been expecting to see, and Dylan and Benny were every bit as surprised as he was.
“This is Vice-Admiral Icarus Hansen at Mandela Station to Commander Akagi!” he shouted. “Be advised, we are under attack! This station is taking heavy damage! The Lunar and Martian colonies are...”
A sudden explosion of thick, billowing smoke and flaming debris blew Hansen out of the picture as the roar of the thunderous blast echoed through Akagi’s office.
“Oh shit!” Dylan shouted as he leapt to his feet.
Hansen returned to the screen a few seconds later, bleeding heavily from a pair of cuts on his cheek and forehead. “The colonies are being bombarded from orbit and there’s a Veshtonn invasion fleet on its way to Earth! We don’t stand a chance here, Commander! You’ve got to send Lieutenant Graves on his mission! It’s our only chance of survival! You’ve got to...”
The screen flashed white, then went blank.
“Get him back, Crewman!” Dylan shouted as he charged the comm-panel.
“It was a recorded message, sir,” Petrakos advised him. “The signal is gone and the channel isn’t open anymore.”
“Keep trying to raise Mandela Station, Mister Petrakos,” Akagi instructed. “Akagi out.” He closed the channel.
“Well, that certainly changes things,” Benny said as Dylan sat back down.
“No it doesn’t,” Akagi contradicted, shaking his head. “Doesn’t change a damn thing.”
“What do you mean ‘no it doesn’t?’” Benny asked, bewildered. “You heard the admiral! There’s a full-scale invasion of Earth underway!”
“The admiral!” Akagi exclaimed. “Captain Sedelnikov, the admiral has been arrested for disobeying presidential orders and has obviously escaped from custody! He might even have killed someone to affect that escape! I’m not doing anything based on the frantic and probably fraudulent orders of a fleeing felon.”
“Was that explosion fraudulent, Commander?” Dylan asked as he stood up again. “Was the blood on Admiral Hansen’s face fraudulent?”
“Possibly.”
“Oh, come on! You can’t possibly believe that...”
“Comm-room to Commander Akagi,” the panel called out again.
Akagi blew his breath out noisily and thumped the ‘channel open’ button with his knuckle. “What is it now, Mister Petrakos?” he impatiently asked.
“Another incoming message from Earth, sir. It’s the...”
“If it’s another recording from Admiral Hansen, I don’t want to...”
“No, sir! It’s not recorded, and it’s not from Admiral Hansen. It’s a live message from the president.”
“The president?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Well what the hell are you keeping her waiting for, Mister Petrakos? Pipe her through!”
“Yes, sir!”
This time there was no momentary silence. The president’s face appeared on the screen immediately. She looked exhausted and very, very stressed. “Commander Akagi,” she began. “A Veshtonn invasion fleet has broken through the solar system’s outer defense perimeter. Europa and Ganymede are gone and the Martian and Lunar colonies have been virtually annihilated. Mandela Station is breaking up in orbit as I speak and there’s a very real danger that Earth might soon be overrun. As of this moment and under my direct authority, you are hereby ordered to disregard my previous message and permit Lieutenant Graves to proceed through the Portal in pursuit of his mission. Do you understand?”
Akagi opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t seem to find his voice. “I...uh...”
“I said, do you understand, Mister Akagi?” she asked again.
“Yes, ma’am,” he finally answered. “I understand.”
“Good. Do it now, Commander, and may God help us all. Mirriazu Shakhar, President, United Earth Federation.”
The screen blinked off.
“As I said,” Benny reminded the commander, “that certainly changes things.”
“Can’t argue with him this time, can you?” Dylan added.
- - - - - - - - - -
All glory to the Holy Vul-Khashka-Veshto, the sixty-sixth Pod Priest praised with a sneer.
The report from the thirteenth Pod Priest had been scripture filled with glory. Much of the Tseirran demons’ spawning world now burned with the flames of sanctification and soon their Gateway into the realm of the blessed interlight would fall to that same fate, as proclaimed and commanded by the High Priesthood itself.
The Blessed once more found themselves on the verge of cleansing the interlight of yet another evil—another wicked pestilence that had poisoned and polluted the realm for countless eons, even before it had begun to spread itself outward into the interlight. And now the High Priesthood’s final blessing had finally come. The Zielepchtah Crusade was to begin at once by holy commandment. The Tseirran demons were to be eradicated.
All glory to the Holy Vul-Khashka-Veshto.
Chapter 74
Dylan, Benny, and Commander Akagi lagged a few meters behind the Security Forces squad’s alpha fire tea
m as they once again walked through the tunnels toward the Portal—the tunnels that somehow felt darker and colder than they had before. The squad’s bravo team maintained a minimum distance of ten meters behind them, bringing up the rear. With Earth’s solar system under attack, all Solfleet forces everywhere had gone on high alert, and now that Dylan’s mission had officially been sanctioned by the president—had been classified as vital to Earth and Coalition security, in fact—Akagi wasn’t taking any chances with his safety. It was an unexpected reversal on his part, but to his credit, one that demonstrated his professionalism...at least as far as Dylan was concerned. Benny, on the other hand, didn’t seem to agree with that assessment. “Probably worried about how he’ll look to the president if you get killed or wounded and can’t carry out your mission,” he’d whispered to Dylan as soon as Akagi called his Security Forces commander and requested the squad.
The alpha team leader waved them forward, and as they turned into the last tunnel Dylan reflected back on the president’s despondent message. A Veshtonn invasion fleet had broken through. Europa and Ganymede were gone, she’d told them. The Martian and Lunar colonies had been ‘virtually’ annihilated, whatever that meant. Even Mandela Station had been destroyed, and the Earth was in danger of being overrun. Tens of millions of human lives had already been lost.
This was it. This was the end that Hansen and Royer had warned him was coming—the end of human society and culture. The end of mankind.
“Comm-room to Commander Akagi,” Crewman Petrakos’ voice called over the comm-link as they approached the stairs.
Akagi tapped the link on his collar. “Go ahead.”
“Sir, we’ve lost contact with the orbital patrols again.”
Akagi cursed under his breath, then asked, “Did they say anything about heading over the horizon?”
“Affirmative, sir.”
“All right. Keep trying to raise them and update me again in a few minutes. Akagi out.”
