by Selby, Caleb
“That is when Larep instituted the compensation program to make up for their actions,” commented Kesler with a weary shake of his head.
Tarkin nodded. “The program was intended to restore trust between our peoples but instead, it promoted a victimized mentality with almost all of my people overnight. As word spread that your government was trying to rectify the wrongs done to a handful of Branci by a handful of Namuh, people flocked to the Namuh Consulate to file claims, mostly fraudulently. Only several hundred Branci were actually kidnapped and abused but almost every single Branci filed compensation claims with Larep for one grievance or another. Branci, who had never even met the true victims, demanded stipends from your government, which your overwhelmed and narrow-minded delegates agreed to. When it was done, almost the entirety of my world had become a welfare state and we were stripped of our dignity in the process. Forty years ago, you couldn’t have found a nobler, or more proud people than the Branci. But now, unable to provide or care for ourselves without your people’s help, we have become a parasitic sub-race indeed worthy of your loathing.”
Kesler nodded slowly, surprised by Tarkin’s scathing critique of his own people but also amazed by the eloquent way in which he spoke, making simple sense of the complicated social issues that had eroded away at the Federation for years. “So tell me Tarkin, how did you manage to avoid this trap that so many others have fallen into? You credited Nebod before, but what of your father?”
“Nebod was my inspiration but my father taught me honor,” answered Tarkin. “He taught me that if something is worth having, it is worth earning. He taught me that taking something you did not earn fosters contempt for the very thing you have received and a hollowed out soul that always wants more but is never satisfied. Earning what you have is the greatest source of joy one can ever achieve. He lived by this and died by this.”
Kesler shook his head. “I wish more Branci had father’s like yours.”
Tarkin nodded sadly.
Kesler was amazed by Tarkin’s insight and by his character. Never before had he seen such devotion and patriotism from Namuh or Branci alike. Kesler couldn’t help but wonder how many equally zealous Branci candidates he had dismissed from service over the years due to his own bigotry. If even a tenth of them had Tarkin’s passion, how much better would the fleets be today?
3. Pirates!
The room was unusually dark for midday. The deep blue drapes of the president’s private office were drawn shut and all of the lights were off, except a small recessed light fixed within a tall bookshelf in the corner of the room. Behind the President’s desk sat a lone figure clad in a stately black robe trimmed with a dreary gray. A silver box sat upon the desk and the seated figure held a hand firmly atop the box as if guarding it from an unseen assailant. He sat there perfectly still, staring at the door, waiting for the inevitable visit.
“Come in Minister Boide,” Defuria said slowly when the knock finally sounded.
Light spilled into the chamber from the lit hallway as the Defense Minister entered the stately room. He wore a heavy cloak that concealed his face and hands from view. Boide carefully closed the door behind him and slowly approached the desk. “Did you manage it?” he implored anxiously, lifting the cloak and looking at the chair’s occupant.
“No,” Defuria replied coolly. “Fedrin is not coming back. He knows something is up. We’ll have to handle him the hard way.”
“My apologies,” Boide stated nervously as he sat down in a polished wooden chair positioned in front of the desk. “I tried my best, I really did. I just don’t understand how he could have managed to escape! I set the charge where the Iovara was supposed to dock and she moved berths before I realized it. I killed all her atmospheric pilots and yet they still found someone to fly her out of the atmosphere. I fed the traffic fighter pilots the story about Fedrin being a Krohn agent so they would shoot her down without objection but they were shot down first. I really don’t know what more I could have done.”
Defuria sat still, saying nothing, the scornful look on his countenance making up for his lack of words.
“I wonder if maybe he had outside help,” said Boide reluctantly. “I wonder if our nemesis has once again interjected themselves.”
Defuria looked at Boide critically, a single eyebrow raised. “You think the Sions helped him?”
Boide shrugged as he sat back in his chair. “I think it’s possible. I mean, they swept in unannounced all those years ago and delivered the Namuh from the hands of the Refrac Empire when all hope seemed lost. Why wouldn’t they help them again?”
“Because they’ve let them dangle so far in their war against the Krohns!” Defuria snapped. “If the Sions really had the resources to help save Fedrin, surely they would be able to stop the Krohns too!”
Boide shook his head defensively. “I’m not saying that they did help, only that it’s a possibility.”
“It’s not a possibility!” Defuria snapped. “The Sions have no presence here! And blaming your complete and utter failure on a nemesis that hasn’t set foot in this sector for well over a decade is in poor taste.”
“I did my best!” Boide protested with arms outstretched. “Maybe if you had given me more resources I could have managed. You asked a lot from me, more than I could ever deliver.”
Defuria raised his hand for quiet. “You are just embarrassing yourself Boide. Please...please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
“What do you speak of?” asked Boide, not trusting Defuria’s sinister tone.
Defuria smiled sadistically. “Must I spell it out for you?”
Boide looked at Defuria uneasily and then stood up. “You told me I would get my share!” he shouted, pointing at the small box and glaring at Defuria. “You have no right to deny me what I’ve earned! No right!”
“Earned?” Defuria exclaimed and then laughed loudly. “You must be joking!”
“Give it to me!” Boide screamed as he suddenly leapt toward the box, snatching it up and retreating toward the door. “You can’t stop me from taking what I’ve earned!”
Without protest, Defuria looked on as Boide fumbled with the latch to open the box. As the lid opened, a blinding burst of light poured out from the box and enveloped Boide who promptly fell to the ground in burning agony.
The whites of Defuria’s eyes flashed a deep black and he stood to his feet and approached the thrashing figure on the floor. “It appears you were right,” he commented with a twisted smile. “I can’t stop you from taking what you’ve earned!”
“You...you deceived me!” Boide called out.
“It wasn’t hard,” replied Defuria with a sigh. “As always, you lack imagination.”
“I...I did what you asked!” Boide screamed. “I’ve always done what you’ve asked!”
“No, no you really haven’t,” Defuria calmly replied as he knelt down beside Boide just as his assumed face faded away, revealing his true hideous self beneath. “Fedrin was the target,” Defuria continued. “Not the ships, not the commanders, not the crews, not the docks. It was Fedrin, Boide! It was always Fedrin!”
“The pain is more then I can stand!” Boide yelled out to the deafened ears of Defuria. “Please, just kill me! I...I renounce my claim on my share! You can have it!”
“Oh, I know I can have it,” Defuria answered with an evil smile. “I’ve already taken it as a matter of fact.”
“Then just kill me!” Boide screamed. “Just kill me!”
Defuria shook his head, ignoring Boide’s pleas. “Ships can be rebuilt! New commanders can be trained! Docks can be repaired, but leaders? Oh, leaders are a rare commodity indeed, Boide and point of fact, are far more deadly than a hundred ships!”
“How...how was I to know the Iovara would change docking points?” Boide pleaded in one last effort to sway his sadistic execution.
“That should never have been a factor!” Defuria snapped. “Destroying half the fleet to kill one man? Are you serious Boide? Wh
y not just destroy the planet while you’re at it, or the sun for the matter. It’s like performing brain surgery with a dull axe with you around!”
“I’m...sorry,” Boide said as he tearfully reached for Defuria’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Goodbye Boide,” Defuria replied and stood to his feet.
Boide struggled to look up into the countenance of his assailant one final time. The light from the device saturated every shadow and crevice of Defuria’s face and suddenly Boide’s eyes grew with a great revelation. “You are...you are...a traitor,” he muttered just as he succumbed to the burning light and melted away. When it was done, only a small pile of dying embers and blackened ash remained.
“You have complicated my job immensely,” Defuria said as he kicked his foot through the pile, causing the ashen flakes to fly through the room like a sudden blizzard. Defuria then shook his head and casually walked back behind his desk and began to skim over several star charts already spread over the surface. “You have complicated everything,” he muttered again as he located an item on a chart. “Computer,” he said after reading the fine print on the chart. “Establish a direct tele-link with the NPF Tribulation of the Second Fleet, care of Vice Admiral Caton,” Defuria paused pensively before adding, “And setup a secondary link with Commodore Tropnia of the same ship on an encrypted frequency.”
“Transmissions initializing,” the computerized voice replied. “Please standby.”
Defuria opened a drawer in his desk and retrieved another silver box and sat back in his chair and stared at the transmission screen. He gently stroked the lid as he waited for the transmission to commence.
“It’s a game of time now,” he said aloud. “Who will get to our Chief Admiral first?”
***
“Status report?” ordered Kesler as he stepped onto the bridge floor followed closely by Tarkin.
“The outer satellite grid just picked up several rogue signals entering sector sixteen,” answered Ensign Gallo.
“Refrac Pirates?” Kesler asked casually as he assumed his station and looked at the signals himself.
“Almost for sure,” Gallo answered with a nod. “They must have evaded the Northern fleet and slipped in behind the patrols.”
“They’ll probably make a play for the shipping lanes again,” remarked Jonas as he walked up behind Tarkin and Kesler. “They always run heavy with fuel and supplies this time of the year.”
“I agree,” Kesler said as he reached for a scanner switch at his station. “Do we have a breakdown yet?”
“Just came in,” Gallo answered, looking intently at one of his screens. “Looks like two frigates and a small compliment of light star fighters.”
“Carrier frigates,” said Kesler, nodding to a string of numbers on a small screen next to Tarkin. “We haven’t seen any of them in a while.”
Tarkin glanced at the screen. “Will they be a problem?” he asked.
“Not usually,” Kesler answered. “But considering the majority of our forces in this system have just been decimated, it’ll be somewhat of a challenge to corner them.”
Tarkin looked perplexed. “Why can’t the Northern Fleet just come back and help hem them in? They have enough ships to do it.”
“The Northern?” Jonas exclaimed followed by a laugh. “They can hardly maintain a steady orbit much less engage in coordinated tactical operations!”
Tarkin looked around the room for an explanation. None was offered. “I don’t understand,” he then confessed. “What is so wrong with the Northern Fleet?”
Kesler shook his head. “It’s made up entirely of obsolete ships drawn from the dissolved First, Fourth and Fifth Fleets plus what ever else they could find. Most of the ships in it predate the Refrac War and haven’t had much in term of upgrades or retrofits since.”
“Their basically junk used for training,” Gallo added.
Tarkin shook his head. “I knew the ships were old but I guess I had no idea the fleet was so impotent.”
“They don’t really broadcast that fact to everyone,” Jonas said and then laughed. “Their presence alone is a good deterrent for smugglers and the occasional Refrac Pirate band.”
“Until now,” Tarkin jibed, nodding at main monitor.
Kesler nodded reluctantly. “It does seem they are calling our bluff more and more lately. Soon it won’t even matter. The Northern is too slow to pursue anything faster than a freighter.”
“They must be getting desperate for supplies,” remarked Jonas, reaching in front of Kesler and pulling up a new data screen. He pointed at the readout as he spoke. “These are very old style Refrac frigates, probably leftovers from the war. They have no shielding and only basic armor components.”
“So no threat then?” clarified Tarkin.
Jonas shrugged. “If we can close with them, it’ll be a pretty one-sided engagement...my favorite kind!”
Kesler nodded as he looked over the data. “Is Fedrin still in the middle of his tele-conference?”
Gallo nodded. “He’s been in there for the last hour! I did send a message down to him a little bit ago about the pirates so he should be aware but he hasn’t sent any orders yet.”
Kesler looked up from the screen and then shrugged. “Obsolete or not, these pirates could easily take out half of our freight lines in the sector if we don’t get to them first. We need to act...and soon!”
“This is the last thing we need right now,” Jonas added with a shake of his head.
“Agreed,” said Kesler.
“The Refrac Pirates were not the only thing I wanted to bring to your attention,” Gallo again spoke up.
“Oh?” asked Kesler, walking promptly back to Gallo’s station.
Gallo pressed a button beneath one of his screens and then pointed.
“Well isn’t that just lovely,” Kesler quietly said. “From bad to worse.”
“Just wouldn’t be right otherwise!” commented Jonas from the back of the bridge.
***
The three Vice Admirals looked at Fedrin over separate tele-link screens critically, waiting to hear what their Chief Admiral, and at present, enemy of the state, had to say next.
“You have to believe me,” Fedrin pleaded with the men. “I am just as much a victim here as anyone else! I’ve been set up to look guilty to erode my credibility with you. You must understand this! You must believe me!”
“Fedrin,” spoke Caton, the Vice Admiral of the Second Fleet. “How are we to answer the questions set to us by our crews? Regardless of what we believe, the facts just don’t add up in your favor.”
“You say you saw the Defense Council appearing as aliens?” Nidrid, leader of the Northern Fleet and eldest of the active admirals, asked skeptically.
“Demons would be a more accurate description of them,” said Fedrin as he recalled the horrific sight. “It was only for a moment but I saw them just as clearly as I see you all now.”
“But why can’t we see them as you saw them?” Caton pressed. “With each of these fantastic situations you narrate, it becomes harder to believe what you say, let alone convince others of your veracity.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say!” snapped Fedrin. “I’m only telling you what happened and what I saw. If that’s not good enough for you I don’t know what is!”
“We aren’t challenging you Fedrin,” Vice Admiral Sherman of the Third Fleet said in a reassuring tone. “We just need answers for our officers and crews. We must be able to answer their misgivings so that they can execute their duties with full confidence in their leadership.”
Fedrin shook his head helplessly. “I can provide no proof for what has transpired other than my word. And I would hope that with you three, if with no others, that would be sufficient.”
The three Vice Admirals looked at each other uneasily as Fedrin continued. “Something’s going on at home gentlemen. Something darker and more sinister then I think we can imagine. At some point in the near future, we will need to retu
rn home and set things right. My forces, such as they are, will not be able to do this alone. We will need the combined forces of all the fleets when the time comes. Can I count on you?”
All of the Admirals sat in silence for several moments, contemplating Fedrin’s request. It was a big request; of that there was no doubt. And the consequences for success or failure were both immense.
“Fedrin you are young and inexperienced when it comes to being Chief Admiral,” Nidrid said frankly. “However, you were Nebod’s choice to replace him upon his death. Based solely on that fact, I pledge the Northern Fleet when you call for it. I will be sure my men do not have any occasion to doubt you or your credibility.”
“Thank you Nidrid,” Fedrin said sincerely, nodding toward the elderly Admiral. “Thank you.”
“I wish I could offer what Nidrid does,” lamented Admiral Sherman. “Alas, my ships are tethered to our location by tactical necessity as you know all to well. But I do support you and your endeavor, whatever it may involve. I will lend any and all support I can in lieu of my fleet when the time comes!”
“And I thank you also,” said Fedrin sincerely. “And don’t think that just because of todays tragedies I have forgotten your supply problems. It is high on my list of priorities to address.”
“I was wondering about it,” confessed Sherman. “We’ll need help within the week or these big ships will be nothing more than oversized coffins.”
Fedrin nodded knowingly. “We’ll be there, Sherman. Someway, somehow, we’ll be there. I promise!”
Sherman nodded.
Fedrin then turned to face Caton, the most headstrong yet sincerely passionate of all his Admirals. “How about it Caton? Will you join us in freeing the Federation from our new assailants?”
Caton looked at all the Admirals and then slowly shook his head as if weighted down by something he didn’t want to share but knew he had to.
