by Trevor Wyatt
“Yes,” she smiled, her voice so gentle that it made his heart ache. “I never expected something like this, but I’ve felt it since New Sydney. Yes, Jeryl, yes,” she repeated, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him against her, their bodies becoming one as they surrendered to the moment.
Through thick and thin, Jeryl thought to himself, I’ll always love you.
***
When Jeryl strolled into the CNC, all eyes were on him. Nodding back at his crew, he went straight to the captain’s chair and assumed his position, resting his elbows on the armrests.
“Go ahead,” he told Mary. She was the only one that kept standing, shifting her weight from one foot to the next.
“Sir,” she started, her voice fraught with tension. “We’ve received new orders from Armada Command. We’re needed at the Kalerian system. The Sonali have just attacked a farming colony, Kalera, and we need to protect one of the last convoys of refugees exiting the system. They’re two vessels and both of the transport ships have had their FTL drives damaged. We’re to escort them to the Nasser Station for repairs.”
“Understood,” he replied, leaning back against his seat. “What about the Sonali? Have they left the system?”
“No, sir. They’ve abandoned Kalera’s orbit, but they’ve been picking off all various targets in the system randomly. Most of the refugee ships have escaped, but this particular convoy is stranded. So far they’ve managed to avoid detection, but the Sonali will find them soon enough. They’re being pursued by a Sonali dreadnought.”
“Very well,” Jeryl nodded, ready to take charge. He wasn’t keen on taking his battered fleet against a Sonali dreadnought, but it wasn’t like he had a choice.
This was war, after all.
“Patch me to the rest of the fleet. We’ll coordinate and make the jump into the Kalerian system fast.”
“Sir,” Mary said, the nervousness in her voice growing with each passing second. “The orders we’ve received apply to The Seeker alone. The rest of the flotilla has been told to head straight to Davos Station.”
“That can’t be right,” Jeryl muttered, gripping the armrest tight. What was Command thinking? How was The Seeker alone supposed to stop a Sonali dreadnought?
“Command is expecting an assault on a nearby colony,” Mary replied, sounding as if she was trying to excuse the cadre of Admirals in charge of operations. It made sense; if Command was expecting a Sonali offensive, they couldn’t send a whole flotilla to protect two transport ships. Still, Jeryl didn’t like the idea of heading out by himself. But these were his orders.
“Very well,” he sighed, slowly going up to his feet. “Helm, plot course for the Kalerian system.”
“On it, Captain! One minute for us to enter FTL 5, and then 30 minutes for us to reach the Kalerian system. We already have the transport’s coordinates locked in.”
“This isn’t good,” Jeryl heard Ashley say from behind him. He turned around to look at her, and found himself smiling.
“It’ll be okay,” he told her, even though he wasn’t sure if anything would ever be okay. War had a way of destroying everything, and all he knew was that, with Ashley by his side, he was ready to take on the universe.
“It’ll be okay,” she repeated after him, her lips slowly curling into an hidden smile.
Half an hour later and they jumped out of FTL. The Seeker’s shadow projected onto the two large transport ships that floated in space as if they had been abandoned. In an attempt to deceive the Sonali and avoid their sensors, they had disabled all non-essential systems and allowed the ships to simply drift in space till help arrived.
“Sir, The Archimedes is trying to reach us,” Mary said over the loud chatter of the CNC personnel, referring to the biggest of the transports.
“Patch them through.”
A second later and a figure took over the viewscreen in the CNC. It was the figure of a man in his fifties, his grey hair disheveled, and the wrinkles in his forehead cutting so deep it almost seemed the man had been slashed by a butcher’s knife.
“My name is John Kaneta, and I’m the Archimedes’ Captain,” he said fast, sounding as if he was out of breath. “Thank you for coming, Seeker. We’ve been stuck here for hours.”
“I’m Captain Jeryl Montgomery,” Jeryl introduced himself, more than ready to do without all the peasantries and get down to business. “How many aboard The Archimedes?”
“Ten thousand, sir. And five thousand more aboard The Red Sun,” Captain Kaneta replied, his speech short and clipped. “We’ve managed to escape Kalera while the battle was taking place, but our sensors picked up a Sonali dreadnought in pursuit. We got a few hits while in orbit, and our FTL drives are ruined.”
“What about sub light drive?” Jeryl asked, his eyes trained on the sensors panel; although that was the last thing he wanted, he expected to see a Sonali ship there anytime soon.
“The engines can take sub light drive,” Kaneta replies, and the lines on his forehead deepened some more. “We just didn’t want to risk it with the dreadnought on our trail. We’d be easy pickings without an escort.”
“Very well. We’ll escort you out of the Kalerian system, and take you toward the Nasser Station for repairs. Two days, at the most, and we’ll get there.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Kaneta said, a tone of relief on his voice. “We’d be lost without—”
“Sir!” One of the Ensigns shouted, going up to his feet so fast that Jeryl could almost swear he heard the young man’s knees pop. “There are seven Sonali ships heading toward us!”
“Seven? Are you sure?” Jeryl asked, and then cut off the communication channel to The Archimedes as he saw Kaneta’s face grow pale, panic taking over the man’s eyes.
“Positive, Sir. The dreadnought and six frigates as support,” the Ensign replied, looking at his Captain with a panicked expression. He knew, just as Jeryl did, that there was no way The Seeker could stand a chance against those numbers, especially after all the damage suffered during their last face-off with the Sonali.
Looking back over his shoulder at Ashley, Jeryl saw the tension in her face. The Sonali had them backed against the wall, and that had been done on purpose. The only reason the Sonali hadn’t laid waste to both The Archimedes and The Red Sun was because they were setting a trap. They knew that the Armada would send a military vessel to escort the civilian ships out of the system, and that was exactly what they wanted. Now The Seeker was at the mercy of a dreadnought and six frigates.
“How long till they reach us?”
“Two minutes, Sir.”
Battle stations, everyone, Jeryl wanted to say, but the words died in his throat. That was suicide, plain and simple.
“Patch me in to The Archimedes and The Red Sun, Mary,” Jeryl commanded, the palm of his hands growing sleek with sweat. The moment Mary opened the comms channel, Jeryl didn’t wait for the two civilian captains to speak.
“There’s one Sonali dreadnought and six frigates heading toward us,” he started, each word feeling like a sharp knife cutting through his throat. “We’ve sustained heavy damage during our last conflict, and we don’t have the necessary firepower to stand against the Sonali.”
“You’re abandoning us,” Kaneta whispered, his unblinking eyes brimming with disbelief. “We’ll die...all of us!” He continued, his voice trembling as he realized the only decision Jeryl could take.
“Try and establish contact with the Sonali, negotiate a surrender,” Jeryl said, trying to speak over The Archimedes’ captain.
“The Sonali don’t negotiate,” the man said through gritted teeth, his eyes focused on Jeryl. Now, more than disbelief, there was anger in his tone. “We’re dead, and you know it.”
“I’m sorry, Captain,” Jeryl whispered, and without another word he flicked a button on the panel on his chair, cutting off the comm channel.
“We can’t abandon them,” Ashley whispered behind him, and Jeryl lowered his head.
“We have to. If we
don’t...it’s all over for us. Even if we had two more ships with us, and if we were operating in full, I doubt we could go against seven ships.”
Ashley’s only reply was silence. Even though she didn’t want to admit it, their only option was to run. Once more.
Is that the only thing we’re good at? Running for our lives? Jeryl thought to himself, and then he simply forced all these thoughts to a dark corner in his mind. He stood up and commanded Engineering to power up the FTL drive.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in a somber tone, looking at the two transport ships on the viewscreen. He was condemning more than fifteen thousand souls to their doom, and there was nothing he could do about it.
“It’ll be okay,” Ashley whispered, laying one hand on his shoulder and squeezing tight. “It’ll be okay.”
Nodding at Ashley, Jeryl then faced forward and sucked in a deep breath. “Take us out of here,” he commanded, and a few seconds later he felt the thrumming of the FTL drive deep in his bones.
That and the cries of fifteen thousand lives.
Jeryl
“Coming out of FTL now, sir,” the young ensign at the helm called out to Jeryl.
The mood was one of despair in CNC. The Seeker, one of the most cutting edge frigates of the Terran Armada was a defeated ship. For over three hours they had been cruising through Terran space away from the memory of abandoning countless thousands of refugees to die and Jeryl felt the morale of the entire crew sink to nothingness.
Technically, there was nothing that could have been done. Armada War Policy had been clear upon transmission of the orders. If pursued by the Sonali, make best course away from the site. Above all, do not engage the enemy. They had given Jeryl license to be a coward, and he had taken it.
“We should be coming in range of the Truman Colony once we get into the system,” Ashley called out from her station.
“Signal them as soon as we’re in range,” Jeryl replied. “Let them know that we need repairs and transmit the Armada codes so they know who to bill.”
Truman Colony was a sleepy backwater colony at the edge of the Edoris Sector. Until recently, it had largely been forgotten by the Terran Armada, and was only on the star charts of a few corporations that carried out mining operations on the planet.
But less than two months ago, the colony had been completely transformed. The population had exploded from a sleepy 30,000 people to one of at least 250,000 residents who worked in never ending shifts to provide assistance to Armada ships that came in for repairs. Several years ago, the colony had put up a working spacedock in the hopes of serving as a transport hub for the region. It was 50 light years from Edoris Station and the hope was that it would one day serve as an important trade depot. Similar to many of the ways that New Washington had developed.
That was when this sector of space was the frontier, Jeryl thought grimly to himself. Now the frontier had turned into a war zone, with a bloodthirsty enemy on the other side.
Jeryl had ordered the ship to make its way to Truman Colony. This was somewhat of an impromptu stop. A part of him didn’t feel comfortable until they were at least decently repaired and battle ready. Afterwards, they would head to Davos II and get assigned to the next hot spot.
Gotta keep those engines running so we can run away faster than everyone. Jeryl thought to himself. That’s what we’re good for anyways.
“I’m hailing the Truman Colony but not getting any response yet,” Ashley called out. Jeryl could tell that she was trying her best to keep busy. To keep her mind off of the events that had occurred the last few days.
It was a dangerous way to operate a starship during a time of war when the First Officer was running communications in an effort to keep her mind occupied from thinking.
“Keep trying,” Jeryl instructed. “Helm, take us to the planet. Maximum sub-light.”
Jeryl thought he could feel the ship moving faster through the system as he saw the various phenomena of the system pass him by.
“This is odd, Captain,” Jeryl heard from Tactical. “There is almost zero slipstream activity from Truman Colony. Nothing from the spacedock.”
Jeryl had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach upon hearing that.
It could only mean one thing.
Then, the planet began to appear on the viewscreen. His worst fears were confirmed.
Captain Jeryl Montgomery got up from his chair to view the carnage that was displayed out in front of him.
The Truman Colony spacedock, built with great ambitions, was destroyed. A broken, burning hulk of twisted metal and polymers. Drifting in a deteriorating orbit around the planet.
“Oh my god,” Jeryl heard Ashley say behind him as he focused on the planet. The atmosphere looked burnt as multiple fires blanketed the southern continent where the main settlements were.
“That’s why they haven’t been responding,” Jeryl muttered. “They’d been attacked.”
It saddened and frightened Jeryl to see the Sonali war machine strike so far into the sector. What would be next?
Edoris Station? Davos II? New Washington? New Sydney?
Earth?
How far would this war go? How bad had it truly gotten that Truman Colony was wiped off the galactic map and no one in Armada Command even knew about it at this point? Where were the rescue vessels? Where was the counterattack? There was almost zero communication to The Seeker at this point from Armada Command after the disastrous rescue attempt earlier.
How far had the Sonali struck?
Was this the end of humanity?
“Commander,” Jeryl croaked to Ashley. “Scan for survivors on the planet and on the station.”
Jeryl heard Ashley moving to her console. He couldn’t help himself as he gave the final order.
“And prepare a shuttle,” he said. “We’re going down.”
***
Jeryl looked at the twisted and charred landscape of what had been Truman Colony. While it was never a natural paradise like New Sydney or Elysium as it was a mining colony after all, any natural beauty that the place had was ruined. The ground was charred. The trees were burning. The water was acidified, if not vaporized.
A security detail came walking back from the charred remains of what used to be a town.
Jeryl and two security teams had taken a shuttle and landed right outside one of the largest settlements.
“No survivors that we could scan or see, sir,” the team leader said and Jeryl shook his head in dismay.
This war had gone on far too long. It had cost too many lives. Even if Truman Colony was a small and isolated outpost, the fact that they had been casually destroyed as such was jarring.
Jeryl bent to his knees and gathered a handful of dirt. What had once sustained life on this planet was now dust.
There was a line that had been crossed somehow. And it was time to strike back.
“This must end,” he said to his team. “We can’t go on like this.”
There was silence as everyone watched their captain.
“This will end. I swear it.”
After a while, Jeryl got up. The team walked to the shuttle and took off.
But the people who left the planet were now vastly different from the people who had landed.
Including the Captain.
Ashley
Thirty.
It was a number that stood for the number of months that the conflict, what was being called The Earth-Sonali War had gone on for. Countless worlds and colonies had been razed to the ground and glassed from the sky. Billions of people were killed. Many tens of billions more were displaced. All by a faceless, alien enemy that lacked any sort of compassion.
Two.
That was the number of Sonali dreadnoughts engaged by a fleet of Terran Armada frigates on the outskirts of the Goncalo Cluster towards the first year of the war. The Goncalo Cluster held two systems that held a total of three billion Terran Union citizens and represented the farthest into the Inner Core worlds of the
Terran Union that isolated Sonali attacks had penetrated.
The Terran Armada, reeling from a year of defeat, realized that this was more than a far off war on the border at this point. By taking control of the Goncalo Cluster, the Sonali would be able to mount attacks against several Inner Core worlds and be within position to start to threaten Earth.
What added insult to injury for the Terran Union was the fact that the Sonali Combine had sent just two ships. Granted, these were massive super ships, double the size of a Sonali dreadnought. The Sonali ships, The Malai and the Gre’nai took the entire fleet of fifteen frigates and held them at bay for hours. Ten frigates were destroyed before the Sonali ships were dispatched but the losses negated the victory that the Terran Union claimed at the conclusion of the campaign. But for the first time, every single person in the Terran Armada, from the Commander-In-Chief to the newest class of Ensigns realized that this war was no longer about The Mariner.
It was now about the future of the human race.
Eight.
The number of conspirators among the senior staff of the TUS Terror who plotted mutiny and to overthrow the Captain of the ship. The Terror had engaged the Sonali at Azukene colony among other vessels. The Sonali were threatening the colony and preparing to eradicate the settlements on the main continent when the Terran fleet intercepted them.
The Sonali fleet, following prior engagements were able to neutralize the Terran ships with ease. To prevent the loss of the colony, and to slow the Sonali advance, the captain of Terror ordered for her ship to ram the Sonali dreadnought, in about the only tactic that the Terran Union had come up with that was able to destroy the massive Sonali vessels.
However in this instance, the crew, already demoralized and defeated from multiple engagements that resulted in retreats and falling back, were not prepared to sacrifice their lives when they felt that it would have no bearing on whether the colonists lived or died.
