by Cameron, TR
In a whisper, he said, “What am I forgetting? What else can we do?”
She shook her head at him. “You’ve done all you can. We’ve done all we can. All that’s left to us is to retreat, regroup, and find a new answer to these beings.”
He leaned back with a sigh and rocked to fit into his seat. Strangely, it had always felt just fine to him when he was third in command.
As the timer clicked down to zero, he said, “Open it up.”
On the main screen, an orifice in space appeared, triggered by the release of a specific frequency of energy from a trio of dishes mounted around the front of the ship. He took a deep breath and blew it out. “In we go. Execute.”
* * *
Four days later, the ships that had escaped the massacre were docked at Starbase 13. They had taken the wormhole transit to the next stop, then tunneled to the nearest base. Cross was sure that everyone breathed the same sigh of relief that he did when the tunnel drives functioned.
They’d gotten a day and a half of quality rest and relaxation, protected by the fleet elements stationed in the sector. All of the ships, Union and Alliance alike, were undergoing replenishment. Their crews were on shore leave with starbase personnel acting as skeleton commands aboard the Union ships. The Alliance ships preferred to maintain their own staff, but also rotated personnel onto the base for downtime.
Cross was in his most impressive dress uniform, and Kate was beside him in hers.
“How are they treating you down there,” he said into his headset, which was connected to Captain James Okoye.
“Oh, you know, a hospital is a hospital is a hospital. These damned doctors aren’t going to let me leave anytime soon though.”
“Well, you broke your back and your brain,” Kate commented. Even with the impressive technology available to the medical teams, brain trauma and a broken back were not things that healed quickly. For the time being, Okoye was a consultant, not a combatant.
“The former bothers me more than the latter,” Okoye replied.
“A sure sign of brain damage, if I ever heard one,” Cross quipped.
Cross and Kate fell silent as they walked through the doors into the meeting hall. It was identical to the space where they’d met the admirals the last time, just a little dingier and a bit more well-used. The same could be said of the admirals themselves.
“A very different bunch of uniforms here today, Captain” Cross murmured just loud enough for the microphone to pick it up. Only a third of the admirals that had been present at Starbase 14 had survived the attack and consequent explosion of the Toronto. A number of new admirals had been seated, and there were also several empty chairs.
This time the examination table had three seats behind it, and Cross’s face broke into a guarded grin as he saw Dima Petryaev enter from the opposite set of doors. He and Kate walked over to the AAN officer and shook hands, accompanied by hard looks of shared commitment. In the back of his mind, Cross wondered what the admirals would make of that. They had not yet chosen to discuss the peace terms that first Okoye, and later Cross, had offered.
“Please be seated,” the admiral in charge of the council said. The display screen on a side wall lit up, and an image of Captain Okoye appeared. He looked relatively dapper for a man with a broken back, and the dark blue bandage around his head kind of suited him, Cross thought. “We welcome Captain Okoye to these proceedings by remote, and also welcome Captain First Rank Dima Petryaev of the Allied Asian Nations Navy.” Both captains nodded as their names were mentioned.
“The purpose of this meeting is to ascertain the events of the recent debacle in which Captain Okoye and Lieutenant Commander Cross embroiled elements of our fleet. We will also determine our path going forward.” Okoye’s expression didn’t change, but Cross jerked a little at the word “debacle.”
“If I may be permitted to address this assembly,” Dima Petryaev said, smoothly cutting in, “I believe I can answer some of the questions that you no doubt have. When I offered an early warning about the attack on your starbase, it came with conditions. I had your officers over a barrel, and they were forced to agree to return the favor if they discovered something. By doing so, they saved many lives in the attack on your base, and many lives in the attack on my base. It is a testament to the honor and bravery of your men—and women” he said, gesturing at Kate, “—that they fulfilled this agreement. Treating one another as allies, rather than perpetuating the enmity of decades of war, is necessarily the first step toward creating a united front against this alien menace.” He looked each admiral in the eye after finishing, one by one, then sat without another word.
The admirals looked at each other, and then up at Okoye’s image. “Is this true, Captain?”
“True enough.”
“And you, Lieutenant Commander? Do you testify that this is true?”
“I do.”
“Very well. Does anyone wish to ask further questions of the officers assembled before we declare this question closed?”
One of the admirals opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again when his nearest comrade glared at him.
“On to the next issue, then. How shall we go forward to confront them?” He squinted at the small display screen in front of him. “Our experts, such as they are, suggest that the likelihood of a larger alien invasion is somewhere between probable and imminent. Would you all agree with this position?”
Kate put her arms on the table, folding her hands together. “I have had perhaps the greatest opportunity of anyone in the UAL to examine these aliens at close range. Although I wouldn’t attempt to say that I understand how they think, it seems clear to me that they completed a probing attack against us, and a probing attack against the other dominant grouping of our species. In the reverse situation, it’s very much what we would do prior to a full-scale invasion.” She paused and swallowed hard. “It’s my personal belief that they will be coming, they will be coming soon, and they will be coming in force.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Would you characterize the battle as a success?”
Kraada Tak sat in a large comfortable chair made of the skin of some animal native to one of their conquered planets. A delicate glass full of amber liquid rested in his hand, and he swirled it while he waited for his answer.
“I would, Uncle,” Indraat Vray responded. She, too, was seated in luxury and equipped with the burning liquor prized by the upper echelon of the Xroeshyn. She took a measured sip while waiting for her uncle’s next query.
“I would hope for there to always be complete honesty between us, Niece. What I’m about to tell you should be kept strictly between the two of us.” Indraat arched an eyebrow, as if to indicate that sharing any information she received wasn’t even in the realm of possibility, and he should be aware of that already. At least that’s how Kraada interpreted it.
“We lost more ships than I expected, and this has me concerned. Drovaa Jat, with the support of the emperor, has judged this enemy less dangerous than those we’ve faced in the past, and plans to commit a comparatively low number of resources to its destruction. While I understand that his mandate includes the defense of all our people, and that we cannot predict who we might come up against in our explorations, I worry that his investment in this endeavor is not as strong as it could be.”
Indraat shrugged. “And is that all that bothers you, Uncle?”
“You are very perceptive, Vray. There is one thing more. Drovaa has deliberately placed you and your ship on the front line, and shall continue to do so, to ensure you will be blamed for anything that goes wrong. You must protect yourself against this in every way possible, as it will have dangerous consequences for the both of us.”
Indraat laughed, surprising Kraada. “As a member of your family, and as a woman in charge of a starship, I am always in that position, Uncle. This is nothing new.” She leaned forward in her seat, placed her drink on the table, and rested her forearms on her knees, meeting his ga
ze. “Whether we succeed, or whether we fail, our family will emerge in a positive light. You can count on me for that.”
Kraada gave her a thin smile in response. “That may require you to set aside your personal honor, Niece.”
“What is personal honor compared to the honor of our family, and service to the gods?”
“You are truly my blood, Vray, and I’m proud to say it is so.” He checked the clock on the wall and levered himself out of the all too comfortable chair. “It’s time for me to battle my friendly foe yet again. I’ll have a message for you before you leave. You should return to your ship and be ready to go, for events will move fast after this meeting.”
* * *
A short while later, Kraada and Drovaa were once more in the small conference chamber beside the throne room, laying out their perspectives for the emperor that neither of them truly respected. “We’ve achieved a decisive victory against this enemy with minimal investment of resources,” the marshal offered, “and this should be our plan going forward. I propose to allocate no more than two-eighths of our forces to this invasion.”
Kraada was already shaking his head before Drovaa finished speaking. “This is our promised foe. We cannot afford to lose even a battle, much less the overall war. We should commit twice the resources we need, in order to guarantee a swift victory.”
Drovaa faced him and raised his arms in disbelief. “And if we do, Hierarch, who will defend that which we have already claimed? Who will protect our home planet against invaders known and unknown? Would you leave our emperor, and our people, defenseless in the face of whatever enemies may appear?”
“Of course not,” Kraada replied. “Our technological might and our superiority in tactics and strategy will carry us through any enemy that comes our way. We can easily commit at least half of our forces, endangering nothing we currently hold. You are too reticent to risk your ships, my friend. This is a holy war, ordained by the gods.”
“Ordained by you, you mean,” Drovaa said, accusation in his tone.
Kraada let the silence linger long enough to become uncomfortable. Then, softly, calmly, he offered a reply, “Yes, ordained by me. The chosen leader of our faith. The privilege and the responsibility are both mine, and I shirk neither. Can you say the same, Marshal?”
The emperor raised a hand and cleared his throat. “It will not do for the leaders of the church and the military to be divided. Let us not devolve into personal attacks. I am confident each of you is fulfilling your duties in as honest, true, and complete a fashion as you can.” He turned to the marshal.
“Drovaa, realistically, what is the largest force available to commit to this invasion and still defend our people?”
The marshal sighed and took a moment to consider. “Your grace, I believe I could reallocate as much as three-eighths of our total ships to this endeavor, but no more. We have a large territory to protect, and it would be irresponsible in the extreme to leave our colonies, bases, and home system improperly defended.”
The emperor turned to Kraada, “Will this meet your needs, Hierarch?”
He had reviewed all the potential results of this meeting ahead of time and had his answer close at hand. “I believe it will, if we include a fortress to act as our forward base.” Drovaa’s head snapped around, and he glared at Kraada.
“We do not have any fortresses available for this assault, Kraada.”
“I don’t agree that is the case, Drovaa. What about the Sapphire Sky?”
Drovaa's eyes narrowed, and the grimace that Kraada was sure lurked behind his lips failed to materialize, but only just barely. “Sapphire Sky is permanently detailed to the home system, you know that.”
“I know it’s convenient for it to be so, since you consider it your own command. However, I would suggest that everything you can accomplish on board that ship, you can accomplish on the ground, freeing it for the invasion. Alternately, I suppose, we could detail more ships to the invasion force, rather than bringing them to the home system to replace the fortress.”
Drovaa’s lips twisted in defeat. “Fine, Hierarch. You may have the Sapphire Sky for your invasion.”
“And three-eighths of our ships.”
“Yes,” Drovaa forced out between gritted teeth.
“Well done, gentlemen,” the emperor said, toasting them with the ever-present drink in his hand. “Everything is better when we can get along, isn’t it?”
The leaders of church and military glared at each other. Kraada knew that he had shattered the fragile bonds that had connected them by usurping Drovaa’s authority, and they were friends no longer.
* * *
Many hours later, after the premature victory dinner the emperor demanded they suffer through, Kraada was safely ensconced in his own office, his priestly garments replaced with comfortable clothes for lounging. The remains of a small plate of fruit sat abandoned nearby, as he bent to his task.
He had retrieved his official stationery, a heavy parchment embossed with the seal of the church. He wrote in a flowing script, a letter of well wishes to his niece as she departed for war. Occasionally, he paused to check the book beside him, and then continued to write. Anyone intercepting this message would find it to be the blandest of communications.
Those who possessed the proper cipher, on the other hand, could read rather more into it. A simple word substitution code, it required both sender and recipient to have copies of the same book, and naturally, to know which book was being used. The key to the book was in the date—for the family had a text for each day of the month. The number of words in the first sentence, which was never part of the hidden meaning of the message, indicated the page on which to start.
In Indraat’s case, since she was aboard ship, her copies were electronic. They had been carefully scanned from the original print versions, an affectation she’d been teased about more than once by fellow officers. Once decoded, it read:
“Remember your vow. Tensions are high. Sacrifice of opposing representative may be required. Act on own initiative. Full support.”
The use of the family code, combined with the flowing script of his own hand, would be enough to authenticate the message when it reached his niece. After waiting a proper interval for the ink to dry, he rolled it, dripped wax upon it and impressed the signet of the hierarch. He then slid it carefully into a ceremonial tube and called for a courier.
When one arrived, Kraada was standing, staring into the fireplace. He turned and handed the junior priest the tube. “This goes from your hands to the hands of Indraat Vray, Commander of the Ruby Rain, at the spaceport. Deliver it as quickly as possible.” He nodded and left, quick footsteps receding as he ran from the cathedral.
Kraada paced, worrying. He hadn’t intended to push things so far with the marshal. It was important to Kraada’s long-term strategy that Drovaa remain on the board, and he would’ve preferred he remain an ally. But no matter. The playing field was always influx, and only the bold emerged victorious. Armed with that thought, he retired to his bedroom to seek guidance in the Dhadas, and to consider his options three and four moves further along in this most vital of games.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The meeting space was dingy, almost deliberately low-technology. The AAN admirals conversed among themselves, standing around in groups of two or three, smoking cigarettes, cigars, pipes, and anything else that would help keep them awake and functional for just a few hours longer. Dima sipped his tea, sat in the corner, and waited for the start of the battle.
Several other first rank captains were present, and as they circulated, shaking hands and making sure the admirals knew who they were, each of them stopped by to greet Dima. He’d trained at least half of them. The rest respected him from the times their paths had crossed. Guarded looks transmitted silent questions, but he had no replies to offer. Not yet.
He had a feeling, though, that he would wind up doing things his superiors might not like, unless they rose above the collected actions o
f the admirals of the last century. He wasn’t optimistic about this outcome.
Finally, the senior officers found their way to the rectangular table at the front of the room, and the captains took their seats in the audience with their staff members and other lower military rank officers.
“Comrades,” a large man with bushy mutton chops and a matching shock of white hair on his head began, “we’ve received reports that the alien enemy discovered by the Gagarin has again entered human space. Our furthest pickets launched tunnel beacons, then retreated into adjoining sectors. They are taking it in turn to creep into maximum sensor range, then send us updates each half day.”
Admiral Sergey Laskin folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Here’s what we’re sure of. They are here, and they are here in substantial force. Our first estimate is there are over 200 ships in that sector. If we were to scramble all of ours, we still couldn’t meet them in a one-to-one basis.”
Murmurs arose in the crowd, and the admiral held up a hand for quiet.
“We have two advantages here. First, we have a lot of space to trade for time. Earth is a long way away from their current position, and there are substantial defenses between here and there. Our newest ships are at our rearmost shipyards, being retrofitted with wormhole drives so we won’t be blocked by that enemy tactic again. Vessels that can use the network are moving up, and will rally here within three days before deploying forward. We don’t expect an attack anytime soon, which is our second advantage.”
“Our pickets report the aliens appear to be orienting toward Union territory. It’s our intelligence division’s best guess that they will continue along that front, rather than dividing their forces and attacking both of us. This provides the opportunity to continue to retrofit our ships and to husband our resources until we see a moment to engage in a decisive strike against them, alone or in partnership with the Union.”
