by Cameron, TR
Kate toggled the playback to the main display and walked in front to watch. Just as she had thought, there were unpredictable gravitic happenings throughout the sector. First, the artifact that their torpedoes had destroyed exerted a strong attractive wave. She had seen the effects of that pull, in how the Gagarin curved as it sped past, the force of the gravity altering the ship’s course and causing the missiles to retarget too close to the artifact, which pulled them in as they approached. The asteroid belt itself was home to several strange currents of attraction and repulsion that couldn’t be explained by the available information, but appeared systemic, as if the whole solar system was the center of some unexplainable gravitic power.
Kate was surprised to see that the alien ship also seemed to exert a repulsive gravity wave. The computer illustrated a weak pulse emanating from it. Finally, the projectiles that followed the Washington through the tunnel exerted their own gravitic waves. That’s one mystery solved, Kate thought.
At the conclusion of her shift, all three commanders met during the crossover. Kate reported her findings to the others, and both were impressed and alarmed in equal measure. Cross grumbled something about the admirals, but Okoye cut him off. “The two of you take one last day of shore leave. We embark tomorrow morning, and I need to be aboard to make sure everything’s prepared. There’s no need for you to be here as well. Go.”
Kate and Cross went.
* * *
Kate had figured she’d be aboard for the rest of their time at the starbase, so she had transferred her belongings back to the ship. She led Cross to her quarters, slipped into the shower, and came out dressed for a casual night on the town. Throwing a few things into a bag that she tossed over her shoulder, she left the Washington arm-in-arm with Cross.
Two hours later, they relaxed over a fine meal at Cross’s hotel restaurant. He shared the full tale of his adventure with the admiralty, and she told him the deeper details of her research into the Xroeshyn. They reminisced about the fun times they’d had at other starbases and teased each other about their prowess at various games of chance. She could tell something was bothering him, and she had an idea of the topic.
Over coffee and dessert, he finally broke his silence. “Kate, look, with the new duty rotation—” he began.
Kate stopped him with a raised hand. “Allow me to finish for you.” She dropped her voice lower to imitate Cross and put a clueless expression on her face. “With the new duty rotation, we’ll have less time to spend together. I know this means you’ll spend all of your off-hours lying in your quarters, hand to your forehead, moaning, ‘Woe is me. Oh, woe.’ Because of this, I feel guilty, but because I’m a particularly stupid specimen of my gender, I have only a tiny ability to actually express my emotions. So, uh, I just don’t want to feel bad, so if you could proactively let me off the hook, that would be awesome.” Kate looked across the table at Cross, then reached over and pushed up on his chin to shut his mouth.
“Did I get it about right, Ace?”
Cross nodded, looking like he still felt guilty. Kate wasn’t sure whether to pity him or laugh at him.
“Okay, Cross, I’ll only say this once so listen up. We’re two separate people. You don’t complete me, I don’t complete you. We’re each committed to things beyond one another. At times, these things will create physical distance or other complications. During those times, we’re each free to follow our hearts wherever they lead. During the times we can be together, we will renegotiate where we stand based upon these other factors in our lives. I know for a fact you never saw us settling down on a colony with the stereotypical white picket fence. You need to realize that I never saw that either.”
Kate leaned across and gestured him forward, so that their mouths almost touched. “I won’t deny that I love you, Cross. You’re a great friend, a pretty good occasional boyfriend, a lot of fun to socialize with, and a tiger in the sack. But that doesn’t mean that right now I want to be your one and only, or that I expect you to feel that way about me. So, let your masculine, patriarchal nonsense go, and take me back to your hotel room. We still have ten hours before we have to report to the Washington, and I’d like to sleep for at least three of them.”
Kate stood, pulling the speechless Cross to his feet. She hooked her arm in his, and he walked her to the door on auto-pilot. She looked up at him and smiled. “You know, honestly, you’re kind of sexier when you don’t speak. Perhaps that should be a thing for you.”
Once they reached the room, he conveyed how he felt about her using no words at all, which suited Kate just fine.
Chapter Seventeen
Dima Petryaev and the Beijing were on patrol at the front edge of Allied Asian Nations’ territory. He had communicated the fate of the Gagarin back to headquarters by using one of his own tunnel beacons, but had opted to stay in the field. He could admit to himself, if not to anyone else, that he was unsettled by the idea of an alien race. Further, he was concerned because the path from wherever the aliens were to where they might somehow know the humans had gone came right through the forward sectors of each faction.
It had required some small bending of the letter of the law of his orders, but he had locked himself into a patrol pattern that would take him back near the sector where the Washington and the Gagarin had met. Dima had a feeling if problems were to occur, they would start there, and he wasn’t mistaken.
The invasion began quietly, with the simultaneous encroachment of seven ships onto the forward edge of his sensors. The bridge of the Beijing erupted in announcements. Dima kept his ears open as he issued his own orders, taking in information from sensors, tactical, and helm officers. “All stop. Shields to maximum facing the unknown ships. Ready weapons, but do not target.” He hoped these were Union forces. His gut told him they were not.
“Captain Petryaev,” said the tactical officer, “ship configurations are similar to the one that destroyed the Gagarin. They are tagged as alpha-one through alpha-seven.” The battle display on the main monitor updated to show the tags. “Standard shield frequencies not detected.” Dima raised an eyebrow at his tactical officer, who stammered as he resumed speaking. “Of course, we must assume that the ships have defenses we’re just not sensing.” Dima nodded. He never missed a teaching moment.
“Thank you for the information, Lieutenant Yegerovich. Communication officer, are you picking up any transmissions from that sector?”
The rapid reply showed Junior Lieutenant Loh Zian had been working on that question even before he asked, “No sir.”
“Hmmm.” Dima mused for a second, then thought out loud. “So, we have one of two situations. Either they already have their plans set, and don’t need to communicate, or we cannot detect their transmissions.” Nods of agreement appeared and Dima continued speaking. “If it is option one, what does that mean?”
The crew knew that he never asked rhetorical questions. Junior Lieutenant Evelina Germanova spoke up from the sensor station, “It means they may be waiting on an external trigger, such as reaching a certain time, to begin whatever it is they are here to do.”
Yegerovich picked up the thread, “Perhaps they’re making final checks after arrival before moving on.”
The helm officer pointed at the main screen, which showed a heavily magnified view in which the alien ships looked surprisingly like ants. “I think they may be waiting for that.” Every head turned to face the display.
A tidal wave of energy in shimmering hues of blue, red, orange, and yellow flew through the sector. It left behind an eighth ship, automatically tagged as beta-one by the battle computer. The artistic way the aliens traveled through space made their own tunnel drives look like something a child would create. Zian swore quietly in Chinese while Dima’s executive officer echoed the sentiment in her aristocratic Russian.
“Keep an eye on our friends, Exec. Call me if anything happens. You have the deck.”
“Aye, sir, I have the deck,” Senior Lieutenant Svetlana Ivanova replied.
>
Dima strode from the bridge, heading at a fast walk to his quarters.
* * *
Several minutes later, he requested that the ship’s last remaining tunnel beacon be used for something other than its primary purpose. When the communication officer signaled it was recording, Dima spoke into the camera of his computer pad, “Admirals. This is Captain First Rank Dima Petryaev, commanding the AAN Beijing, sending to you from our forward exploration sector.”
He leaned forward, hoping to portray an intensity that would convey the gravity of the situation. “In the sector where the Gagarin departed for unexplored space, there are now eight alien ships. We are unable to identify their defensive capabilities and have so far been unable to detect any communication among them. It is my initial assessment that this is an attack force, with the best-case scenario being that they are targeting either the UAL ship Washington, DC or the UAL as a whole. The worst case, gentlemen and ladies, is that the attack force is either one of opportunity or one that specifically wishes to eradicate us as a species.”
He took a deep breath before he continued, making certain to temper his words. “To guard against the possibility it is an attack force of opportunity, I recommend evacuating our ships from the projected path of the squadron, which I will append before launching this beacon. To guard against the possibility it is a force determined to eradicate humanity, I recommend and request that you forward this information on to the admiralty of the United Atlantic League.”
Pausing to consider his words, he steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “I know this may seem counterintuitive, and it flies in the face of the old adage that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. However, consider for a moment the potential ramifications if this is the first wave of a conquest force. If we don’t at least equip the UAL to blunt that attack to the best of their ability, we put ourselves in a less advantageous position than if those two sides inflict significant damage upon one another. Eliminating the aliens’ element of surprise will allow us to gather far more information about their capabilities than allowing them to attack the Union forces unhindered.”
His body pressed forward to convey the sense of urgency he felt. “If I’m wrong, and these aliens are here only for the UAL, we have only to watch. Should the Union prevail, it will doubtless be weakened, leaving it ripe for our own conquest afterward. In the absolute worst case, providing a warning to the Union admirals is the first step in creating a partnership that may help us to avoid our own destruction by this unknown alien threat.”
He leaned back and spread his hands. “I beseech you to act immediately upon receipt of this message, and send word to the Washington, DC and to the Union admiralty. In my opinion, it’s the best play that we have at this time, even though it requires us to sacrifice a possible short-term masterstroke for a more likely long-term strategic victory.”
Drawing upon every skill he had to convince them to act as he advised, he made his last pitch, “I also recognize that I am but the leader of a single ship, speaking to the leaders of our entire military. Nonetheless, I believe this is a pivotal moment, when actions taken or withheld will have effects that resonate into the future. Please consider my request. With deepest respect, Admirals. Captain First Rank Dima Petryaev of the AAN Beijing, signing off.”
Dima watched a replay and grunted at the forced formality of the message. What he really wanted to say wouldn’t sit well with the admirals’ egos. He hoped that he had been persuasive enough to convince, but not pushy enough to offend.
* * *
Three hours later, Dima was on the bridge when the alien ships moved. “Tactical, project the path of those ships. Once you have it, upload it to the tunnel beacon. Communication officer, when the beacon has the information, launch it.”
He sat down in the command chair and waited for his crew to complete his orders. When he felt the thrum of the departing communication, he addressed the helm officer. “Follow, but maintain distance. Maximum range to keep them in our sensors.” He turned to his executive officer. “Crew rotations at four-hour intervals, Exec. We need our people fresh since we cannot anticipate the aliens’ actions.”
He thought for a second before deciding this was important enough to break a few rules.
“Communication officer, should we get within hailing range of any Union ship, please establish a connection and inform me.” He knew two UAL officers by name after all. He gave a short laugh, thinking that they would be very surprised to hear from him, if random chance awarded him that possibility.
Chapter Eighteen
The three commanders of the Washington were separated, Captain Okoye in a briefing with the admirals, Kate on board, and Cross wrapping up his hotel stay when his communication alarm went off. Cross frowned, wondering who needed to reach him as he stepped out of the lobby and triggered playback of the recording.
Unexpectedly, it was audio only, and the sender data was blank. He recognized the Russian accent when he heard it, from their brief encounter after the Washington exited the wormhole.
“Captain, Lieutenant Commander, I hope this message finds you well and your ship rebuilt. The next time we meet, I can guarantee you that the outcome will be different.”
Cross frowned. This was a very strange thing to say, given the positive nature of their last meeting. Captain Dima Petryaev’s voice continued after a short pause.
“I send this to warn you that another lesson for the Lieutenant Commander is imminent. As he requested, the opposing player will pose a much greater challenge than did the Gagarin. Until I see the Washington in my targeting sights again, good luck to you both.”
It took Cross several seconds to parse the words, and realize that Petryaev was trying to preserve his own deniability while sending a message about something else entirely. Something very scary, he realized as a cold shiver traveled through him. He broke into a run and hit the buttons to connect to Captain Okoye. The Captain’s comm was unavailable, a typical precaution to avoid distraction during meetings with the admiralty. Cross barked an obscenity, startling a pair of cadets as he dashed past them. He contacted Kate instead.
“What can I do for—”
Cross interrupted her. “Kate, sound emergency recall on my authority as executive officer. Get everyone to the Washington as quickly as possible. We will depart as soon as I arrive. My ETA is,” he checked the map on his comm display “twelve minutes. Preflight the ship and secure approval for undocking with any excuse you can think of.”
“Affirmative. Emergency recall, preflight, undocking approval. See you in twelve.”
Thirteen minutes later, Cross was aboard the Washington, entering on her lowest deck. He opened a communication channel to Kate again. “Status?”
“We’re ready to go. Seventy-three percent of the crew is on board, enough to operate all vital systems. If we can wait another seven minutes, we will get above eighty percent.”
Cross growled at the lack of specificity in Dima’s message and said, “Okay, seven minutes then. Captain Okoye?”
“We had an ensign break into the meeting. He’s not pleased with you, neither are the admirals. He should be on board in six minutes, but specifies that he is continuing his briefing by remote and will not be immediately available when he arrives.”
Cross cursed again. The captain must not have had time to review his messages, or he would head straight to the bridge. Given the vagueness of the timing, it wouldn’t be a problem. Probably. “Acknowledged. When everyone’s on board, pull out. I will grab a uniform and be on the bridge shortly. If we’re clear before I arrive, put us on a vector between here and where we reverted from tunnel space after the Gagarin. Shields to full, weapons ready.”
“Affirmative. Want to tell me what this is about?”
“You have to hear the message for yourself, Kate. I’ll fill you in when I get there.”
* * *
Cross stepped onto the bridge and into a cacophony of voices blaring from the speakers. He glanced at the c
ommunication officer, and Lieutenant Ana Fitzgerald brought him up to speed.
“Enemy vessels detected, similar or identical to the ones that destroyed the Gagarin. Starbase defenses mobilizing, all ships cleared to launch on designated vectors.”
Cross threw himself into the captain’s chair and looked at Kate. She nodded, answering his unspoken question about her promise that the captain and eighty percent of the crew should be aboard by now. He could see on the main screen that the Washington was in motion, backing out of her berth. He reached down and tapped a spot on his display.
“Helm, take us to the position I’ve marked and hold. Maximum safe speed. Remember that it will be chaos with all of these ships clearing the area. Comm, inform the starbase, the Rio, and her escorts of our plan. Tactical, sound battle stations and prepare to engage the enemy if they come within weapons’ range.”
All Cross could do was wait. His crew would scramble to their duties, and the captain was probably conferring on an entirely different topic now that the enemy had been sighted. He allowed himself a small smile at this proof of the admirals’ shortsightedness, then adopted a neutral expression appropriate to the commander of a starship.
The copy of Dima’s message reached Kate, and he watched her eyes widen as she listened. She nodded in affirmation of his choices. Cross returned the gesture, always willing to accept a little positive reinforcement.
