Mr. Lorde,
Please accept my apologies on behalf of my office, as well as a majority of the council members. As you know, we are in a perilous position between service to the population as well as to the OSIRIS. Actions taken outside of the OSIRIS’s will are extraordinarily dangerous, both from an operational as well as legal and political perspectives.
The council has occasionally taken votes and actions that are in contrary to the OSIRIS’s will and it is never as straightforward as one may think; good or bad, it has been a dependable standard and more often than not council resolutions have contributed to the problems at hand instead of bringing them to an end. However, you made an effective impression with myself, as well as many of my fellow senators. I believe the current situation deserves our attention.
Although in official channels you may feel that you do not have the backing of our office, I can only tell you here that your team has my full support to continue your investigation. Whatever the reasoning, this price is too high. Please contact me if you require any other assistance and I will do what I can. I look forward to hearing your next report.
B. V. Holland
The note was promising, Lorde decided, although it appeared that even the council feared the OSIRIS’s influence. Having no official paper trail was an interesting touch, but the prospect for secretive assistance from his leadership was a welcome sight.
11
Concluding his shift, Commander Graves had spent four hours preparing what he considered the most important report of his career. He had taken the chief’s advice in logically thinking through all of the various eventualities and precipitating events and was confident in the thesis, as well as the final product. A deeper dive into the subordinate orders to which the fleet had been subjected uncovered additional questionable pronouncements and assessments, which upon additional scrutiny caused him pause and strengthened his resolve.
He paced the length of their ship’s briefing room, staring down at the array of materials he had prepared to support his assessment. Only Captain Richards maintained the authority to pull the plug on their operation, stop their entire fleet of ships, and save New Loeria. Part of him hoped that their subordinate commanding officers across their companion vessels were performing their own evaluations of the order, perhaps to emerge on the far side of the jump with the requisite information in hand and the independent will to put their commissions on the line.
It was a fleeting hope but ultimately beyond his sight. Graves needed to assume that the fate of the operation would rest on his shoulders. If he failed, New Loeria would be lost.
He compulsively scanned across the documents and diagrams again, attempting to dissuade the feeling that he was missing something deathly important. The sensation uneasily passed, so Graves gathered up his supplies, carefully stacking them in a logical order so as to present a unified case to the captain. There was no more use in putting it off.
Graves met Chief Baldric in the corridor separating the bridge from their meeting room. The chief looked over the stack of evidence, his level expression giving neither his denial nor imprimatur toward the operation. He stopped before the central hatch at the entrance to the hallway.
“Remember what I said, sir.”
“Absolutely,” Graves replied with a nod and gathered his stack of evidence. “I’m all in on this.”
“Are you sure?” Baldric cautioned, “Once you walk through, there’s no going back.”
“I understand,” Graves said, staring through the metal door. They passed not another word but together entered and approached the captain’s position.
Captain Richards detected nervous energy brewing between each of his guests as they opened the unexpected gathering. Taking his attention from the operation of his ship, he turned to face the pair. “Commander, what is the meaning of this?” he asked.
“Sir, I believe we are operating under dangerously flawed orders which are bordering on an act of war, if not a crime against humanity. I have collected evidence to support this ascertainment, which I’d like to present.”
Richards’ expression didn’t waver from the stony visage of a veteran commanding officer. His posture remained stoic but attentive. “This had better be good. Proceed,” he responded with flat, unwavering direction.
Handing over the first device, displaying a copy of the order, Graves detailed his investigation, quickly moving from the primary command into the subordinate orders which continued to nurture his skepticism. The concerns raised by Chief Baldric were also dissuaded, showing they were to make no effort to determine lawful military targets, nor that the environmental protection recommended for their ground forces was for anything more than survival in the face of their own munitions.
Keeping a moderate, unexcited rhythm was easier said, but Graves completed the overview without thinking that he could have done better. He finished and waited in silence as the captain reviewed the bevy of information he had delivered and heaped upon their leader.
“So, in your world, what do you want me to do?” Captain Richards finally asked.
“Sir, it is imperative that we negate the order as it stands. We finish the jump and tell the rest of the fleet to stand down. From there, we can either return to base or await further instructions from the OSIRIS or the council. Perhaps they will come to the same conclusion and issue a retraction.”
Richards nodded. “I see. And when I tell you that such an act is nothing short of insanity and utterly out of the question, what is your response?”
The last shred of confidence fell from Graves’ face with the statement from his commanding officer. “Sir, please, is it possible you don’t understand the magnitude of what we’re about to do?” he began to stumble over the words.
“I absolutely understand.” Richards got to his feet for the first time in the meeting. “I should ask the same of you.” Graves’ sullen look remained and the man didn’t respond. The captain continued, “By virtue of taking this duty and wearing this uniform, we are obligated to follow orders of the OSIRIS without question. That is our charge. Wars are won and lost by less seemingly-benign acts.”
“It’s not even a real order!” Graves shouted back. “We’re here to apply discretion. Two-fifty-six isn’t in the instruction set. What all else could be corrupted? Can’t you see what this could mean?”
The captain’s voice continued to rise. “That’s enough! It’s decided.”
“But…”
“Listen here!” Richards thundered, stepping toward the commander. “This is our assignment and it will be done. The OSIRIS demands it.”
“The OSIRIS has no soul!” Graves snapped. “How can you let this be your legacy?”
“By serving humanity every day of my life,” the captain responded, straightening up and staring down at Graves through his piercing eyes. “That is our legacy, the beginning and the end. Defying the will of the OSIRIS is treason! Is that your choice?”
Graves watched a line of security forces channel in through the hatch at the corner of his vision. A peaceful retrograde was no longer possible. He felt a line of sweat build across his hairline. “It is,” he said and went for his sidearm, drawing down on the captain’s face before the soldiers could respond.
“What do you think you are doing?” Captain Richards demanded again. “Drop that and get back to your post.”
“Sir, I find your adherence to our orders to be in the highest regard of fleet tradition, but at this moment, they are also beyond our oaths of service. Your conduct is now beyond the law and finds you subject to removal from the bridge.” The declaration was Graves’ final card to play in front of the security team.
“Commander,” Richards began, without a quiver of fear in his voice, “we are here to face the darkness and join it if need be.” He stepped closer, nearly to the muzzle of the weapon. “You should know to never draw a weapon unless you plan to use it.”
Graves’ hand shook.
“Well, do it! If you think I am t
he traitor, then shoot me where I stand! Here on my own bridge!” Richards bellowed. “Shoot me and save your fucking planet! Do it!”
The commander’s hand grew white from the grip and the battle raging within his head. The captain’s determination was clear; there was no more time for negotiations and no chance to save New Loeria. Graves clenched his jaw and pulled the trigger.
No retort exploded in greeting. Instead, a nearly silent click echoed through the milled block of steel. Graves’ heart jumped and he lost concentration.
“You are such a gaddamned fool,” Richards pronounced and wrenched the weapon from his executive officer’s shaking, weakened hands. Two guards dove for the commander, tackling him and driving his shoulders hard into the ground. From the deck, he caught the captain’s eye.
“I know more about you than you will ever know.” Richards smiled. “I read your entire file before you even showed up, and I’m guessing you didn’t do the same.”
Graves didn’t respond as the guards wrestled his hands behind his back.
“Your first psych eval showed significantly high persuasion towards anti-authority rebellion and a steadily eroding obligation to integrity.” He paused and studied the weapon. “I gave you the benefit when you first arrived since I had no choice, but your subsequent reports over the last two years have shown additional degradation. Seeing this kind of breakdown would come in only a matter of time, six months ago I had the armory outfit your weapon with blank rounds.” He studied the weapon up close and pulled the trigger himself, an air of contentment washing over him as the hammer cycled, again without retort. “This is why you’ll never serve humanity.”
The guards clamped a set of cuffs on Graves’ wrists and cinched the metal bands down tight.
“For both of our protections, of course.” Richards kicked at the metal instruments before glancing back over to the chief, who remained in position to the side. “Did you have a part in this?”
“No, Captain, I simply advised your executive officer of his duties, as well as the ramifications of his proposal.”
“Then return to your duties. I have nothing else for you,” Captain Richards said coldly. “Guards, secure the commander. I don’t want to see him for the rest of this voyage. I’ll expect his trial to be announced upon our return to base. It shouldn’t take long.”
Graves felt himself be hoisted up by the backs of his arms and dragged back to his feet. The pain grew in his shoulders as the ligaments were stretched to their limits. Whatever he had attempted to do, he decided, was over. The fight was drained from his spirit as surely as the pistol was ripped from his hands.
Part of his mind blamed himself for the miscalculation. He was embarrassed; it was a fool’s mistake to not check the weapon ahead of time. How had he never noticed before? More than that, he had no recollection of such warnings in his permanent record. Nothing fit together anymore.
His life was immaterial in the whole experience; he was finite, fallible, and ultimately mortal. Judging by Captain Richards’ assessment, that last part would be tested sooner rather than later. Part of Graves’ mind compared the possible ends to his life, whether the captain would make good on his promise to drag him back to stand trial before the council or simply execute his authority as part of the current assignment he didn’t know. Regardless, his lone existence did not matter as compared to the colonists who stood to be exterminated.
Graves looked through his blurred vision at the plates in the floor as they wound their way deeper into the ship, down to the holding cells which until recently he had maintained the responsibility to inspect. It was a sick fate. Sicker still was as he spied Chief Baldric, reading over some report and pacing the service hallway off to the side. The man refused to acknowledge their approach. He wanted to call the senior NCO out for leaving him hanging at the bridge but thought better of it, as there was nothing he could have done to change the captain’s mind.
Baldric didn’t raise his head in acknowledgement at their approach. He thought nothing more than animosity toward the chief’s presence as he and the three escorting soldiers passed by. That was until Graves heard a sharp crack behind his head and a grip upon the cuffs fell away.
His heart skipped. Instantly, Graves knew the chief had disabled the first guard from behind. Before the others could react, he drove himself full-force into the one to his right, shoulder-checking the man in the back. The guard slammed headfirst into the wall and went to the deck with Graves landing hard on top of him. He looked up only to see the chief reel back and nail the second soldier with a blackjack to the side of his helmet.
“Gaddamnit, you can’t negotiate your way out of a sack!” Baldric exclaimed as he dug for the key to the restraints. “Now you seriously owe me one.”
Graves’ head was fuzzy from running into the wall but he attempted to pull back at the gesture provided by the chief. “Thanks. Name your price,” he replied, relieved to have his hands free. “Now what?”
“Save it. They’ll be looking for us. You, actually,” Chief clarified. “Maintenance passages are on the other side of the corridor wall. We’ll secure the guards there, take their COMMs and helmets, and buy us an hour or two.” He got to his feet and crossed the hall, opening a conformal hatch along the side. Hidden in the shadows on the far side was a long catwalk made of corrugated steel and riveted guardrails.
Together they dragged the soldiers inside and secured them in place, tossing the communication systems in their helmets over the edge of the guardrail, into the darkness below. “Come on,” Baldric ordered as he closed the door behind them. “The service passages get less traffic than the rest of the ship and there are fewer security feeds to track us. How do you want to play this? I really doubt the captain will be willing to reconsider.”
“Agreed; they’re going to go through with it,” Graves replied as they sped through the dimly-lit passage. “Primary goal: we need to be in position to stop them from striking New Loeria. When they get in range, we’ll have to stop the bombardment, either by disabling the cannons or disrupting the firing solution.”
“How do you plan to do all of that?” Baldric asked.
“I don’t know and I don’t care; just get me to them,” Graves said with a shrug. “Besides, I’m a dead man. If it comes down to it, I’ll jump into the breach myself.”
12
“Have you found anything yet?” Maddie asked Erikson as she entered OSIRIS’s maintenance floor. “Time’s wasting.”
Her subject spun around from the makeshift workstation he had been provided by the rest of the crew which was still diligently working to unravel the perplexing string of logic behind their command. “Not quite yet,” he said with a nod toward Shafer who followed from the landing. “We’ve found some interesting information but nothing that I’d consider actionable at this time.”
“Not good at all,” Shafer said. “Maybe we should have stayed upstairs and kept accosting Sullivan over Telfer’s disappearance.”
“He can wait.” Maddie shook her head as she approached Erikson’s messily-assembled desk. “If he got picked up by some EMTs, then he’s at the clinic down town and safer than the rest of us.”
“Ahem,” Marcus interjected, turning toward their group. “If you’re lost, you can speak for yourself. The rest of us are getting somewhere.” He waited as the MOC operators circled up around him before continuing. “As you know, we’ve got a number of curious entries that have led us to this point. Imaginary commands, falsified orders, and a huge number of intertwined results and upstream events brought us here, but we’re finally starting to make sense of some of it.”
“Do tell,” Maddie replied.
“Well, as I’ve said before, it’s not all encrypted, so there are a few of the contributing factors we’ve been able to isolate, specifically these.” Marcus brought up a list of archived commands on his screen and slowly paged through the blocks of text.
“What are we looking at?” Erikson asked. “These look like fleet comma
nds.”
“Exactly. While we’re not yet able to tell what these actions were supposed to solve, they all played a part in the run-up to the current mission. Each of these were all given at the squadron level or below, so not full fleet deployments, ordering overland assaults on disparate targets… I don’t know what they were, but we do have the coordinates from the requested operations. All were adjudicated by patrolling fleets and all were registered as completely destroyed in the aftermath.”
“All bombardment orders? So OSIRIS wanted a bunch of other targets destroyed recently? What were they?”
“I just said it’s not that simple,” Marcus said. “Between encrypted layers and logical errors, it’s a miracle we found anything at all.” He smiled up at his captive audience. “You’re lucky we’re so damn good at this.”
Maddie tried to suppress a roll of her eyes. “Of course you are. How far off are the target sites? If we make an inspection, could we figure out what OSIRIS is trying to accomplish?”
“That’s certainly possible. I mean, it won’t tell us anything about unlocking the order, but it might be enough to hypothesize about OSIRIS’s overarching goals.”
“You don’t think it ends at the OSIRIS wanting to take out a planet?” Shafer asked.
“No. While such an act is extreme by normal standards, there is room in the system to allow for those types of events,” Marcus explained. “Wars, viruses, invasions, etc. can all move the calculations of these operations from the heinous to the appropriate.” He noted the cross looks of disgust growing on the operators. “Even so, it would be unconscionable to think this act was developed by accident or that it stands alone as a solution without a clear and present problem.”
Their collective expressions were still marked with concern before Marcus threw up his hands. “If you want, take a shuttle, make an inspection, and see what it is they destroyed. I’m not in a position to stop you if you’ve got nothing else better to do. The closest target is only a day’s flight away, so you’d probably get an answer faster than the rest of us waiting for the encryption to break.”
The Deftly Paradox Page 6
