A Call to Arms

by Bradley Hutchinson

  Elijah smirked superiorly as he sat down, nursing a mug of weak, white coffee, handing over a mug of black liquid to James, who hadn’t asked for it. “First and foremost, how well versed are you in the sciences?”

  “I’m not as smart as you, you know that.” James sneered and waved dismissively. “I really only remember what I learned in high school, but I’m sure my virtual-array can explain –”

  Elijah waved him off, frowning. “No need, I’ll try to dumb it down as much as possible.” In that single moment of arrogance, the resemblance between Elijah and his younger brother Elias was at its strongest… with just a hint of Troy for good measure. “For a start, the shield technology we’ve installed on that probe is highly experimental. Revolutionary, in fact... assuming it works…”

  “How?”

  “How are they revolutionary?” Elias quizzed. “Well, I guess it started when –”

  “No Eli, how will they benefit us? I don’t care how it works, as long as it does.”

  Elias smiled. He appreciated James’ pragmatic attitude. “Well, it can maintain its integrity in extreme proximity to the photosphere of a star… We’ve tried earlier versions of it on Bastion’s star, where it got within a few hundred thousand kilometres, but this is the first test of this version of the prototype.”

  James whistled – that was a significant improvement. Even a dreadnaught like the Carpathia could only handle a few minutes within the corona of a star, and that was some distance out from the photosphere. Such an advancement would give them a definitive tactical advantage over the N’xin Hegemony, assuming it could be applied to a more tactical aspect.

  “Surely there’s more to it than that?” James knew there was no way that the High Command would have recalled a top-of-the-line cruiser so far from the frontlines to field-test new shield technologies, no matter how advanced they were… especially if such tests were already taking place in the safe confines of the Commonwealth.

  “I wouldn’t drag you all the way out here for that, silly.” Elijah nodded as he sipped away at his drink. “You know what solar flares are, right? And what coronal mass ejections are, yes?”

  James nodded curtly, his lip curling into a snarl. “Any idiot who goes into space has to know what they are, Elijah. They’re ejections of radiation and energy from a star, caused by an accumulation of charged particles that interact with the star’s plasma.” James shrugged. “These ejections cause havoc on most sorts of delicate or unshielded systems… and if it’s bad enough, even on shielded ones.”

  James thought back – the colony on Churchill had been ravaged by an unexpected storm of solar flares and coronal mass ejections around the turn of the century, losing most of its more sophisticated equipment for several days until repairs could be made.

  “Overly simplistic, and missing out on some key components, but essentially correct.” Elijah took another sip, then gave James a conspiratorial look. “It would be a potent weapon, yes?”

  James cocked his head. “Yes, I suppose it would be an effective weapon… except that they cannot be controlled or artificially created…” James trailed off at the smug look that had returned to Elijah’s face. “Or can they?”

  Elijah nodded, his eyes gleaming in delight at his cleverness. “We’ve had the capability to do so for decades, actually,” Elijah said. “Possibly even longer. What we’ve lacked is an effective or reliable method to deliver the means to the star – as you know, until today, we haven’t been able to get any closer to a star than the edge of its corona… not close enough to trigger a severe enough plasma reaction – the corona disperses any energy stream we target at it, and the solar winds just disperse any charged particles away from the star.”

  “How severe will the flare activity be?”

  Elijah shrugged. “If we replicated today’s test in Sol or Bastion, there’d be a decent amount of chaos on those worlds – loss of long-range and local communications, navigational systems, and so on.” He cocked his head in the direction of the ceiling, taking in the whole ship. “We’re more than triple the distance between Earth and the sun, so we’ll be fine.”

  “Sounds good… could the N’xin duplicate such a weapon?”

  “Possibly, though if our understanding of their culture is at all accurate, they’d probably eschew such a science as a sort of blasphemy or something… you know how they prefer to get their hands dirty.”

  James nodded robotically. “I’d still prefer – as would High Command, for that matter – a Plan B sort of thing, Eli. I don’t want to have to rely on a single super-weapon that could be just as easily used against us if the N’xin ever grow brains.”

  Elijah frowned, as if he was suddenly apprehensive. “Like what?” His tone was suspicious.

  James shrugged. “I don’t know. Takagi and a few others have been pushing for more research into more… exotic weapon systems.”

  “Exotic in what way?”

  James paused, frowning as he chose his words carefully. “Off-the-record?” He waited for Elijah to nod, and then he continued, “Bioweapons. They reckon if we drop a few of them on their settlements, they’ll scream for peace.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “I don’t think the N’xin are too concerned over civilian casualties,” James admitted darkly, his gaze falling to the contents of his mug. “And that’s not even getting into the morality of the matter.”

  Elijah nodded slowly. “Of course, you’re opposed to such a measure.”

  It was several seconds before James answered, his voice strained. “I guess I am… It’s complicated, Eli. In war, most things are.” His eyes flashed as his virtual-vision activated. “We better get back to the bridge, test will start in ten minutes.”

  Elijah looked like he had more to say on the subject – no doubt he wanted to pursue James’ train of thought, but James had no interest in talking about his moral philosophies. His duty had always been clear, and there was no sense in trying to muddy the waters.

  “So… you’re absolutely sure this’ll work?” James asked as they made their way back to the bridge.

  “Positive,” Elijah promised. “The beauty of these devices, James, is that we can target specific parts of a star to semi- direct flare activity – we’ll never be able to control its direction entirely – and we can do it at whim – as long as the device remains intact, it’ll last until its power core runs out.”

  “And how long will that be?”

  “Dunno, it depends on how often the thing is fired…” Elijah admitted, shrugging. “The first one we built is still running after a year of sitting idle, though, so, you know, those hit-and-fade things you gung-ho military types do can be rinsed and repeated ad nauseum to your hearts content.”

  Sotto-voiced, James replied, “Splendid.”

  *

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Beautifully destructive,” James reminded Captain Carmichael quietly, but even he had to admit that he was deriving a sense of euphoria as he watched the filtered long-range feed of the T-Tauri star. The diminutive star was convulsing silently, spitting out spasms of fiery plasma tendrils into space.

  “We’ve got three separate areas of activity,” Elijah called out from the main science station. He could barely contain his enthusiasm. “The probe is far enough away for us to start a fourth, though it’ll run out of power after that.”

  James looked at Lauren, who hadn’t left the command chair as she watched all this implacably. She shrugged casually. “Your mission, Captain. I’m just driving the boat.”

  James turned back to Elijah. “How bad are the expulsions?”

  “James, if this was occurring in the Sol system, any settlements on the sun side of Jupiter would be getting near-lethal doses of radiation, and significant disruptions to inadequately shielded electrical systems. Communications would be significantly degraded.”

  “We’re safe here, yeah?” Lieutenant Murdoch asked, their Chief Navigator, breaking into the conversation. He�
��d been a silent fixture on the bridge for a few hours now, but had clearly been a bit pensive as the tests had unfolded.

  “Yes, of course,” Elijah said haughtily, frowning at the notion of having to address a subordinate. “If we didn’t have this shielding, though…”

  “How long would it take for the star to return to normal?”

  Elijah pondered that for a moment. “A few days, at least, depending on the star and the ferocity of the ejections… significantly longer for the background radiation bands to settle down, however.” Elijah tried to smile at the lieutenant in reassurance, though the effort came across as a little patronizing. “We’re perfectly fine here, Lieutenant… and the system is completely barren, so nothing will happen here.”

  It occurred to James at that moment that the weapon Elijah was bringing to the table was, if used correctly – or incorrectly – could easily be used to bring about an ELE – an extinction-level event. The implications mildly unsettled James; it was, after all, one thing to fight for the survival of your species, it was quite another to survive by wiping out another sapient species.

  Ease up there, we’re a long way from deploying dooms-day weapons.

  James looked on without commenting, even as Murdoch looked unconvinced, and nodded at his older brother. “One more, then, Elijah. We don’t want to attract unwanted attention. From foes... or friends.”

  Elijah smiled. “Coming right up.”

  *

  “Even our best-case scenarios didn’t predict this sort of reaction.”

  Admiral Hawthorne relaxed back into his seat in his office as he gazed implacably at the diminutive hologram of Elijah Hunter, which was surrounded by the other miniature holograms of his senior staff.

  “How effective are we talking?” Hawthorne asked.

  “If this had been in the Sol system, the planetary shields of Earth would fail, and most of the planet would be living in the Dark Ages for a few months… more likely years…. and there’d be extensive ecological damage. We’d be looking at a potential global-extinction event.” James Hunter frowned. “The same would go for most stars our colonies orbit, too, for that matter… The less shielding they have, the more extensive the damage will be, naturally.”

  “Is there anyway the N’xin could defend against this thing?” Captain Shanthi, standing next to Hawthorne, asked as she leaned in to be picked up by the communicator.

  “Sure, but it’d be expensive to develop and maintain a shield system that could defend an entire planet for prolonged periods of time. Bordering on unfeasible.”

  “I’m more interested in the new shielding technology that allowed this test to happen,” Captain Numberi said. “Even if the N’xin were able to develop an effective countermeasure to these solar flares –” Hawthorne noticed that Elijah rolled his eyes at this point, and Hawthorne privately wondered why – “How soon can we begin mass-production?”

  “Almost immediately, at least for HB&S,” Elijah answered, frowning. HB&S was one of three major shield-generator manufacturers in the Commonwealth at the moment, with a fourth start-up company slated to begin production within two years. “But, you must understand, the larger a vessel you want to shield, the larger the generator and power requirements are going to be. At this point, this technology is incompatible with anything smaller than a cruiser-sized vessel.”

  “Before we get too excited, I’d like to point out that it’d take months to refit the whole fleet with this technology,” Captain Numberi pointed out, crossing his arms. “How long would it take to refit a single vessel?”

  All eyes turned to Captain Daavid, who, having spent decades helping design and build spacecraft in the Commonwealth, was the engineering expert among their group. He was a shorter man of fair hair, green eyes, and a perpetually dour expression – Hawthorne rather suspected his face would crack if he was forced to smile.

  “Depends on the class of ship,” Daavid said automatically, his gaze clearly not focused on any one person as he perused his virtual-vision. “But it takes two days – or more – to take out existing generators… make it seven days, probably more, to install and hook-up the new ones… and that’s assuming the power systems don’t need to be configured or overhauled and –”

  Numberi waved Daavid off like a wasp, silencing him with a frosty glare. “I rest my case.”

  “Can anything be done to adapt current defence technologies?” Hawthorne asked.

  All eyes had turned back to Elijah Hunter, who shrugged. “You’d have to shoot me the specs – most current Naval technology is still classified… you may have had this technology years ago if we hadn’t been basing our designs off out-dated –” James Hunter leaned into frame at that point and whacked the elder Hunter on the arm, and Elijah took in a calming breath, breaking off his tirade. “It may be possible to gain more efficiency in current defence technologies, but it won’t offer anywhere near the new gains the new design offers.”

  Hawthorne regarded Captain Daavid steadily. “Yosef, we’re going to have to work on a refit program for the fleet.” Hawthorne sighed. “In the meantime, I suggest we begin outfitting all compatible warships currently under construction with these new shields.” Daavid nodded, no doubt already in the middle of sorting out the logistics of such an undertaking. “Meanwhile, Mr. Hunter, how many of these CME devices can you equip the Navy with?”

  There was a moment’s pause as Elijah looked confused by the question. “We still have five prototypes left. Considering the ferocity of the solar storms, and their longevity, that should be a sufficient arsenal until a new batch can be manufactured.”

  “How long would a new batch take?” Shanthi asked, and Elijah looked perplexed, as if he was surprised that more than five would be needed. I imagine the creators of the Manhattan Project looked just as perturbed when asked to build more than a single nuclear device.

  Finally, Elijah spoke. “Less than a week, I suppose, once we get the materials ready – with the exception of the new shield generators, everything we need is either readily available, or easily acquired… but my lab doesn’t have the capacity to mass-produce anything.” He looked at his brother before turning his attention back to Hawthorne. “How many of these things do you think you’ll need?”

  “We’ll get back to you on that, Doctor, but for now, just get the balls rolling for mass-production. I’ll have someone from the Corps of Engineers contact you about building a factory.” He smiled at Elijah Hunter’s befuddled look. “Never hurts to have a stockpile ready… just in case.” Hawthorne nodded at James Hunter. “Mr. Hunter, if you’ll excuse us, I just need to borrow your brother for a few minutes.”

  Elijah frowned, almost as if he intended to say something else, then shrugged and stalked off out of view of the holocam, and James took up his position in the centre of the feed from the Endurance. Everyone waited a few seconds for Elijah to get out of earshot, continuing when James had nodded their all-clear.

  “So, now that we have this new weapon – and new shield technology, down the track – how does this affect our strategy?”

  “The new shields are useless to us at the moment, at least in regards to Fleet deployments,” Captain Botha, from the Chimera, said. A stern man, with thinning hair and an arrogance that was only exceeded by his skill as a tactician, he was an unpopular, but necessary, part of Hawthorne’s team. “Any tactical plan we develop has got to rely on the status of fleet as it currently stands.”

  “I concur,” Captain Numberi offered, and got affirmation by Captain Garret, transmitting from the Carpathia, and Fleet Captain al-Arsuzi, from the Odyssey. Vice-Admirals Ginsberg and Yunis – representatives from Naval Intelligence – offered their silent consent a minute later after consulting their own people.

  “Very well, then,” Hawthorne said after a moment’s thought. At the moment, the Commonwealth High Command did not have a solid strategic plan once their current operations were concluded. “Continue with your current assignments, and you are to present a new strateg
ic proposal by the end of next week. I’ll present them to the High Command.”

  One by one his officers disconnected, and Captain Shanthi retreated back to the bridge to get the ship underway. Captain Hunter remained connected, however.

  “Something I can do for you, Captain?” Hawthorne asked, reaching over for a datapad that needed his attention.

  “I still maintain that attacking J-24 is our best way of crippling the Hegemony fleet.”

  Hawthorne sighed – two months earlier, Hunter had presented an audacious plan to the Strategic Operations group, pushing for an immediate, overwhelming assault on the Hegemony stronghold. If successful, a victory at J-24 would be as big as the Commonwealth’s victory in the Horus system.

  Unfortunately, J-24 was even better defended than Horus had been, and was easily reinforced from other systems in the sector – the only way Hawthorne could see a way to eliminate the garrisons in J-24 was to launch concurrent attacks on the whole sector… and the Navy didn’t have anywhere near the kind of resources such a campaign would require.

  Hawthorne smiled ruefully. “And I still maintain that any assault on J-24 would be doomed to failure with what we have to bring to the field at the moment… maybe, in a few months…” Hawthorne sighed at the obstinate look that crossed Hunter’s handsome features. “You’re committed to this, aren’t you?”

  “I’m committed to ending the war, Admiral. J-24 is the most expedient method of doing that.”

  “In your opinion, Captain,” Hawthorne pointed out, anger seeping into his tone.

  “An opinion shared by many of my colleagues, Admiral.”

  Hawthorne sighed vexingly. Hunter had become rather single-minded of late, whether due to an inflated ego, or simple battle fatigue. “If it was feasible, Captain…” Hawthorne closed his eyes, exasperated at rehashing old arguments. “Present me with a feasible plan, Captain, and I promise I’ll seriously consider it presenting it to the Strategic Operations group, and the High Command.”

  Hunter smiled, showing teeth – a predator’s grin. “Already on it, Admiral.” Hunter frowned. “One more thing, Admiral… what’s with the beard?”