Galactic Alliance 3: Honor Thy Enemy

by Doug Farren

  Rumors circulated fast and soon the crew were talking about the hero who was slowly losing his mind. On the rare occasion when Ken encountered a crew member they would stare at him; some with pity, most with disgust, and only a very few with compassion. Nobody tried to talk to him. The ship's councilor heard about his midnight walk-abouts and informed the Captain and Commodore Scarboro that it was a sign that something would break soon.

  On the night of the fourth day of their journey, exhausted from too little sleep and depressed from the memories that would not leave him alone, Ken found himself standing in front of the door leading to Tasha’s old stateroom. He could not remember walking there and he had no idea how long he had been standing there. He turned to leave but found that he could not. It was as if some invisible force was keeping him rooted in place.

  He stared at the door then at the control panel to its left. Above the panel was the nameplate of the current occupant – Elizabeth Warden. Ken reached out and stroked his finger over the nameplate.

  Unknown to Ken, the ship’s computer had noted his prolonged presence at the door and had quietly alerted Elizabeth. Donning a robe, she approached the door, disengaged the lock, and slid it open.

  Being a warship, the Dragon was compartmentalized. The doors separating the various compartments were more like hatches because they were armored. All other doors were thinner but could serve as a pressure boundary if called upon to do so. All doors on the Dragon were manually operated so they could be opened even in the event of a total loss of ship’s power. The lightweight door to Elizabeth’s stateroom/office slid into the wall almost silently.

  Still in a daze and having not heard the door open, Ken turned away from the nameplate and came face to face with Elizabeth. The shock of seeing her standing in the doorway hit him like a piledriver. For a brief moment he thought he saw Tasha standing in front of him. His face turned white, his stomach knotted up, and his vocal chords refused to function.

  Elizabeth had graduated at the top of her class in both Human and alien psychology. She was quick-witted and saw an opening in the shield that Ken had erected and maintained at full power since his beloved wife had become ill. Choosing her words with great care she whispered, “You miss her don’t you?”

  Ken’s shield collapsed as if it had been obliterated by a thermonuclear bomb. His lips started quivering, his legs became weak, and his eyes started to tear up. Seeing what was happening, Elizabeth reached out and guided him into her room. As the door slid shut Ken reached out and clutched the councilor burying his face on her shoulder.

  Eighteen months worth of pent up emotion spilled out of Ken. His body shook as he cried. Elizabeth ignored the growing wetness on her shoulder as she held him close. After fifteen minutes the sobbing and shaking started to slow then came to a stop. Elizabeth gently led him to a chair, handed him a box of tissues, then left to get some water. When she returned he was fast asleep.

  Six hours later, Ken woke up and, for a moment did not know where he was. Elizabeth was at her desk and heard him stir. “Good morning Captain,” she said keeping her tone light. “The head is to your right. I'll have your breakfast warmed up when you're done.”

  Still groggy and trying to piece together how he had ended up in the councilor's stateroom Ken discovered that his bladder was full and he was very hungry. Standing up he started to say something but was cut short by Elizabeth, “Not a word until after you have had something to eat. Doctor's orders.”

  Nature was calling quite loudly and Ken wasn't sure what he was going to say anyway. He closed his half-open mouth and went to find the head. A short time later he emerged to find a steaming plate of bacon and eggs along with a cup of coffee sitting on the small table in front of the chair he had slept in. His stomach told him to eat.

  As he sat down and started eating, Elizabeth took a seat directly across from him and said, “I took the liberty of getting you some breakfast while you slept. I hope I didn't microwave it too much.”

  Through a mouthful of eggs Ken replied, “It's perfect. Thank you. About last night… ”

  “Eat,” Elizabeth interrupted. While Ken had slept, Elizabeth had thought about how to proceed with Ken's recovery. She knew full well that she would need to use all her professional skills to help put Ken on the road to recovery. The trick, she believed, would be to keep him off balance and even slightly confused. Right now he was tired, hungry, and still trying to figure out what had happened. Because of the events of last night there was also an emotional attachment as well. She had to be very careful because if she pushed too hard he would resist and his shield would be rebuilt.

  Elizabeth had taken great care in choosing how she had dressed. She knew full well that she was a very good looking woman and was well aware of the effects she could have on men. As a psychological professional, she was normally loth to use her looks in her work but in this instance it was exactly what was required. She didn't want Ken to be uncomfortable, but she did want him to notice her. Not because she was interested in him but because it would help keep him off balance. She had chosen a top that showed just the slightest amount of cleavage and she had left her hair down. It wasn't provocative, but her outfit would have caused any Human male to give her a second look.

  Elizabeth waited until Ken had taken several bites of his breakfast then set her own cup of coffee down and cast her eyes around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “You know,” she said matter of factly, as if nothing at all had happened last night, “I've been occupying this room for quite some time and I've always wondered about what the other occupants were like. The ship's records haven't been much help but, from what I've read, I think I would have enjoyed meeting councilor Harper.”

  She had purposefully used Tasha's unmarried name and her title to prevent Ken from reacting. Because of the way she had phrased the question, Ken's mind brought up the memory of Tasha as he knew her when he was the Captain of the Komodo Dragon fifteen years ago, not the memory of Tasha as his departed wife.

  “You would have really liked her,” Ken said almost without thinking. There was a lot of psychology at play here and Ken had no inkling that he had been played like a fine violin. His mind was now thinking of Tashara as she was 15 years ago. He was still tired which kept him from being mentally sharp. He was sitting in front of a beautiful woman which put him at ease and triggered his subconscious masculinity into wanting to please her. The breakfast also acted as an additional distraction.

  Ken started to tell Elizabeth about Tashara the councilor. Without his even realizing it, the counseling session had begun. Using her considerable skill and years of experience, Elizabeth manipulated the conversation allowing her to permanently disable the mental and emotional barriers that Ken had put in place during Tashara's illness.

  Several hours later, Ken returned to his own stateroom, took a long shower, and then went to sleep. He slept without nightmares and without waking for almost 10 hours.

  * * * * *

  Doug had almost finished his omelet and was tipping his head back to polish off his coffee when Ken sat himself down in front of him. Doug, as well as a good portion of the crew, had known of Ken's visit to Elizabeth's stateroom but the councilor had said nothing. When asked, she had simply replied, “Yes, Captain Stricklen did visit me but I am honor bound as the ship's councilor not to reveal anything concerning the nature of his visit.”

  Not quite knowing what to expect, Doug set the mug down and waited.

  “I’ve been a real ass haven’t I?” Ken began.

  Doug took a moment to examine his old friend. Something had definitely changed. The gloom and doom which once surrounded Ken was gone. The man across from him was alert and focused.

  Doug was still debating how to respond when Ken continued, “Can you forgive an old friend for being such an ass?”

  Doug grasped the extended hand and shook it firmly. “Friends don’t need to ask each other for forgiveness. Apology accepted.”

  Ken took a bite
of his scrambled eggs and said, “Forgive me for not knowing, but how long before we arrive at the staging area?”

  Doug glanced at his chronometer, did the mental math, and replied, “If we are still on schedule we should be there in about thirty-six hours.”

  “And how long after that before the Kyrra drop the barrier?”

  “If they stick to the plan, the barrier should come down within 48 hours of our arrival. The longer the better for us as it gives us more time to bring in additional ships.”

  Ken was about to reply when he noticed someone near the door. Standing up he motioned and a moment later Captain Sheppard joined them. She shot Doug a questioning look as she took her seat.

  “I would like to apologize for being so inconsiderate to you and your crew,” Ken said. “I haven’t quite been myself lately.”

  “I understand,” the Captain hesitantly replied. “Would it be too intrusive if I ask what has caused you to realize this?”

  Stricklen stuffed another forkful of eggs into his mouth, chewed and swallowed it before replying. “It’s amazing what a lack of sleep and insomnia can do.” His smile surprised Doug as he continued. “Let’s just say that the ship’s councilor had a very unexpected appointment at around three o’clock yesterday morning. She’s quite good at what she does.”

  Scarboro and Sheppard glanced at each other. Seeing the look on their faces Ken defended himself and the councilor’s honor. “Hey! It’s not what you think. I was wandering the passageways in a daze and found myself in front of Tasha’s, now Elizabeth’s, stateroom. I… kind of lost it when she opened the door.”

  Doug tried to imagine the scene that had taken place and actually came quite close to reality. He knew enough about psychology to know that the healing process had only just begun and it would be some time before Ken was fully recovered. But the good news was that Ken was now on the path to recovery. Doug’s only concern now was whether or not there would be any lasting damage. Holding in one’s emotions for so long can scar the personality of even the most hardened individual.

  “I’m glad you cleared that up,” Sheppard said. “I was beginning to wonder if I should congratulate her or reprimand her.”

  All three broke into laughter and at that point Doug knew that his friend would be okay.

  Crossing Over

  “Approaching target coordinates,” the helm announced.

  The Dragon slowed then dropped out of stardrive at the designated coordinates. Using a button on her command console, Captain Sheppard switched the main viewscreen to long-range tactical mode.

  The star chart that overlaid the tactical data identified a star 1.6 light years from their current position. The data associated with this star was displayed in yellow because the navigational computer could not determine if the star was actually there. This was due to the effect of the Kyrra fold’s influence on space.

  The computer’s map had been updated to account for the ‘missing’ space so it knew that the star was actually located where it appeared on the map. But, since gravity was unaffected by the hyperdimensional field, the star’s gravitational influence could not be detected by the Dragon’s exquisitely sensitive Hess sensors since it was gravitationally located nearly 1,200 light years away. A large collection of green icons peppered throughout the display indicated the location of the Alliance ships.

  “We are being hailed by the Rin’Bak,” the communications watch said a moment later. The Rin’Bak was a Tholtaran juggernaut, the largest and most powerful ship ever built by an Alliance race. The juggernaut was a truly gargantuan vessel measuring twenty kilometers at its widest point.

  “Main screen,” Sheppard directed.

  The face of a Tholtaran Fleet Commander appeared on the bridge’s main viewer. The Tholtaran home world was lit by a star rich in ultraviolet light. The Tholtaran’s had evolved a thick leathery skin and sunken eye sockets to protect themselves against the rays of their own sun. Their race had warred among themselves for centuries until they finally achieved planetary unity before joining the Alliance. Their society was still based upon a militaristic structure.

  In addition to their leathery skin, Tholtarans were short in stature averaging 150 centimeters in height. They were bipedal and near Human in general shape and construction except for their larger ears. During the Tholtaran – Human war many Humans referred to the Tholtaran’s as Dumbo’s based upon the fact that their skin and ears resembled an ancient animated film version of an elephant.

  “Fleet Commander Chomack, this is Captain Francine Sheppard of the Komodo Dragon. We will be maneuvering to position ourselves for entry into Chroniech space.”

  “Captain Sheppard,” the Tholtaran replied. “The fleet has been assembled and is in position to deal with any Chroniech ships which may cross into our space. I would personally like to convey my hope for a successful mission. Good luck.”

  “Thank you Fleet Commander. Just make sure you don’t mistake the Kyrra ships for Chroniech.”

  Although Human jokes were, for the most part, a mystery for many Tholtaran’s, this particular individual had worked with Humans long enough to recognize one. His leathery face cracked a smile and replied, “Not to worry Captain. If too many ships appear on our screens we will try to remember which ones are friendly. Chomack out.”

  After three hours of maneuvering, the helm reported that the ship was now at the precise position directed by the Kyrra.

  “Very well,” Sheppard replied. “Transfer helm control to the ship’s computer and activate the auto drive initiation program.”

  The helm made some adjustments on his console then reported, “Helm is now under computer control.”

  Sheppard glanced at one her screens then pressed a stud on her console causing an attention tone to sound throughout the ship. “All hands this is the Captain. We have arrived at the coordinates provided to us by the Kyrra. According to their timetable, the hyperdimensional barrier could be altered any time between twelve and thirty-six hours from now. When this happens, the ship will automatically perform an emergency transition to maximum FTL drive.”

  “In order to be prepared for this event the ship will be placed at battle stations at the beginning of the next shift and will remain so until we are in Chroniech space and free of any threats. Until then, take this opportunity to get some rest.”

  Six hours later, as the next watch rotation began, the ship performed an unusual evolution. Normally, when a warship went to battle stations, it was a quick event characterized by a frantic burst of activity initiated by a loud alarm klaxon. Instead, the Dragon went from a normal status to full battle readiness slowly and silently.

  Weapon systems were powered up and prepared to deliver death to anything that threatened the ship. Armored, air-tight hatches were closed to segregate the ship into many independent compartments. The electrical system was realigned to provide reliable power even if a portion of the ship’s distribution grid was damaged. Sensitive detectors spread their feelers out into the depths of space. The crew donned spacesuits always keeping their helmets at arms length.

  Ready for anything, the crew of the Komodo Dragon waited. With electronic patience the ship’s computer kept a watch on two key stars. Hour after hour crept by.

  Ken was in the head when the computer detected the shift in the position of the two guide stars. An electronic command was flashed from the main computer to the ship’s drive system initiating a sequence of events. The Dragon’s matrix field sprang into existence providing a framework upon which the complex, interlaced, main drive fields were created. While the matrix field formed, the ship’s alarm klaxon sounded warning the crew of what was about to happen. Less than three seconds after detecting the star shift the ship vanished from normal space and raced toward the heart of the Chroniech empire.

  An emergency transition to FTL drive was hard on equipment and people. Under normal conditions a ship would take six to eight seconds to make the transition causing only a slight feeling of twisting compress
ion among the crew. Ken felt as if his insides had been first squeezed then quickly released and a wave a nausea and dizziness hit him.

  “Damn it to hell!” he muttered to himself as he grabbed the urinal to keep his balance. He had wanted to be on the bridge when the transition occurred and had just left to use the head.

  Luckily, the bridge had its own bathroom facility and Ken was only a single closed door away. He quickly finished and was opening the door as the helm made a ship-wide announcement, “All hands, the ship has automatically transited to FTL. We are entering Chroniech space.”

  “Resound battle stations,” Sheppard ordered as Ken stepped away from the door and back onto the bridge. “Tactical, report all contacts.”

  Ken settled into a corner of the bridge and watched as the ship seemed to come alive. Captain Sheppard activated the ship’s tactical display. The large viewscreen shifted from the standard forward-looking view of space to one more suitable for making combat decisions. The ship’s tactical computer continuously digested the vast amount of information being fed into it from the long-range sensors allowing it to show the location, course, speed, and estimated type of each and every ship detectable.

  The instant the stars had shifted, the navigational computer’s star map had been reloaded with the Kyrra updated stellar data. The tactical display now showed the stars that had been revealed by the dropping of the Kyrra fold. The ships of the Alliance battle force appeared as green icons on the huge display. Three red icons suddenly appeared indicating the presence of Chroniech ships.

  The data on the main viewscreen was presented in a two dimensional format. To get a better understanding of the tactical situation the Captain could use the three dimensional tactical globe. The consoles on the bridge were laid out in the shape of a large parabola with the Captain’s chair located at the focal point. The chair was raised slightly higher so the Captain could have a clear view of all the consoles.