Fire on the Frontline

by Trevor Wyatt

  There was a pause.

  She studied her tablet.

  “I don’t know,” she said again after a few moments. “I know we’re anxious to strike a decisive blow, but this...capturing or destroying Beta Hydrae III? The Sonali are fanatics, Jeryl. Half the deal with this war is that they see us as heathens, unbelievers. If we crap in their manger, they could really get pissed off. It could be like stepping on a nest of fire ants.”

  “I agree; but look, Ash—this could be our last chance. You know as well as I do what the scuttlebutt is; we’re sucking wind in this war. It isn’t going well. This attack is probably the only thing humanity can do.”

  “What’s the population according to our estimates?” she asked.

  This part rankles me, thought Jeryl, but I know I need to let her in on it.

  “We estimate up to 1 billion Sonali are living in shielded subterranean caves or domed and shielded structures,” he said.

  Silence.

  “We’ll be bombarding the planet to the point to make it tectonically unstable. No ground troops,” he said. “Intelligence estimates that we can accomplish this through sustained bombardment with ten ships. We have twenty in our flotilla in case some get scrapped along the way.”

  “Genocide,” she whispered.

  “It’s been done to us by them,” Jeryl said evenly. He had prepared for this. “We’ve done it too. This isn’t the first time.”

  “A billion people,” she countered.

  “Things are bad out there, Ash.” .

  “I don’t want to think they’re that bad that we have to do this,” she said.

  “Who the hell does? For the past three years, all Sonali attacks on our territories have come through this route. They’ve all followed this path. It’s as if they make a sort of, I don’t know, a parade pass of Beta Hydrae III on their way to fight. Like they think they’re receiving a blessing or something. Here, look.”

  Jeryl called up some more data files, things she hadn’t yet seen. “These are scans from hyper-speed robot probes we’ve sent through that system.”

  “What?" she frowned. “Hyper speed what, now?”

  “Robot probes. One of our ships drops out of FTL out past the cometary cloud and spits out a probe, then heads out on full drive again, so fast the Sonali don’t know it’s been there. The probe drops sunward at three times light speed. The hyper-drive fries its instruments, of course, because it’s too small for adequate shielding; but before that happens it whips past III so fast it can’t be detected unless you know exactly where to look. And as it passes, it images the bejesus out of the planet. Then it plunges into the star. Poof! Gone, like it never existed.”

  “Well, that’s pretty frictionless,” she said in admiration.

  “It is that. So, from those little probes, we know the Sonali have major defenses around III.”

  “Fine, but we’re not going to be able to get in like that,” she said. “Looks to me that we’ll have to come in through this nebula, here; the radiation output from its central star will mask our drive signature.”

  “That’s exactly right,” Jeryl said. A peculiar look crossed Ashley’s face.

  “Jeryl...”

  “What?”

  “Well, look at the location of that nebula.”

  “What about it?”

  “Do you not recognize those coordinates?”

  He scowled at his tablet, and glanced up at the main screen as if the larger numbers would jog his memory. And then he saw it

  “Aw, hell,” he said. “That’s The Mariner Nebula. Goddammit, that’s where we had First Contact with the Sonali.”

  “Yes,” she said in a grim tone. She didn’t need to say anything more. It was where the Sonali said they claimed this space and that they didn’t destroy The Mariner.

  It was where the war started.

  Well, fuck me.

  “If we had filed a different report, then 4 billion people might still be alive and we wouldn’t be at war,” said Ashley.

  “I’m not going to argue that,” he muttered. She was right. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about that report a thousand times or more over the past few years. When he walked away from the confrontation, it was like Chamberlain appeasing Hitler. He basically gave those blue-skinned bastards carte blanche to make bolder incursions into their space, because they knew they were there, and that they couldn’t outfight them.

  The whole thing is my fault.

  “Everyone will be annihilated when we destroy that planet, Jeryl,” Ashley said again.

  “So what? It’s not as if they haven’t killed enough of us over the past five years.”

  “Violence begets violence,” she said.

  All he could do was stare at her. Where has this come from? Had he been that preoccupied that he never noticed his wife change before his eyes?

  Then Jeryl thought about it. He had changed, too, and he knew it. He was a hell of a lot more cynical than he used to be.

  “Look, if you can’t do your job,” he said, trying to cover his confusion.

  “I understand my job!” she barked. “And I’ll do it to the best of my ability...but I don’t have to be thrilled that it’s being made worse by more killing.”

  Jeryl struggled to find something to say, but before he could, Ashley spoke, “The ship will be battle-ready within the next 10 hours, sir. I’ll see to it.”

  Then she turned and left the room.

  Marriage and command, he thought. The two don’t mix well.

  Jeryl

  One thing that took a lot of getting used to in the new fleet—for Jeryl, anyway—was the transformation of the ships and stations into what were essentially space-going cities. This, Jeryl knew, had come about because they wanted to be seen by the Sonali as being every bit as capable as they were at lofting huge starships.

  So now, their battle cruisers were almost as big as theirs. Jeryl personally found it rather wasteful of resources but he couldn’t deny that the results were impressive as hell.

  Their stations were now impressive fortresses with guns pointing outward. And filled with opportunities to separate you from your money the moment you walk in.

  The Union had contracted with a number of corporations to provide services aboard our stations, which were now so big that they dwarfed anything that would ever be conceived five years ago.

  Jeryl stood on Edoris Station looking at the Promenade. There were 5,000 people on the station. They were bigger than some of the global cities at the end of World War III, Jeryl noted. Flashy logos and enticing odors met his eyes as he walked along the station’s central promenade. The corporations had dialed back the level of interaction so that the 3D holos were a lot less “in your face” than their civilian versions, but even so none of those things really belonged aboard a space station, as far as Jeryl was concerned.

  But he was older than most of the new blood that had entered the service. They were a different generation, and were used to different things. The military was catering to them, in his opinion, and he found it irksome. Was there really a need for a brothel on board this station? He had passed by one, owned and operated by Trinidec. The girls were pneumatic and hospitable; some of them were even human, as opposed to sexbots. Jeryl didn’t think they belonged there, but it wasn’t his call.

  Jeryl had a bit of downtime, when he didn’t have to be in a meeting or reporting to the admiral or overseeing a battle plan. The battle plans were done. Tomorrow they would engage the Sonali. Again. But he couldn’t think about it anymore. He was restless, dissatisfied.

  He left his little cramped office and went for a walk through the huge central atrium of the station, which would once had been called a utility core but had been expanded and reshaped into a vast promenade.

  It seemed more like a marketplace than a military establishment. Sure, the rank and file of the Armada was happy with the changes that had come down, and it was good to keep them motivated in the face of this war, but even so, Jeryl
questioned the wisdom of it all.

  He hadn’t spoken to anyone about it, but he had done a lot of thinking. He took a seat next to a babbling fountain in a small pocket park off the main drag. Given Earth’s recent history, he supposed it wasn’t surprising how they ended up as they were.

  The corporations were the repositories of vast amounts of money, and during the reconstruction of the planet their surviving officers bought their way via venture capital into seats at the governing table. All the rules were rewritten to allow it, over the strenuous objection of the “old guard.”

  So what they had now was a corporate republic, something new under the sun. Five pillars held up the society. The first pillar was the President. The second, the legislative body and the senate. The third pillar was the Armada. Fourth, the institutions: The Diplomatic service, the courts, the universities, the government offices, and the science establishment. And the final pillar of society was upheld by the corporations, each with its own representative to a “Corporate Council” that advised the government. The corporate media was part of this, as well, monitoring the entire system.

  As anyone could expect, with that much money and power floating around, several of the corporations had their own standing fleets of mercenaries and “career” soldiers, in essence, private armies that do their masters’ bidding. The corpers had at times been reluctant to put these assets into play during the war with the Sonali. This resulted to some recent talk of nationalizing those private fleets, absorbing them into the actual military, if the corpers didn’t contribute regularly to the war effort. In an effort to pour some oil on that troubled water, the corpers cut a lot of deals with the fleet to install supply outlets and what-not into Armada installations at a far lower rate.

  They lost some money up front, as Jeryl understood it, but that was why they now had brand-name fast foods aboard their vessels, and outfits like Trinidec doing hospitality on their station. And Jery hadn’t forgotten about Pooz, the hologram giant, providing holodeck gaming services next to the subdued multi-denominational house of worship.

  There was another side of this as well. He pulled out his tablet and tapped into his e-mail program. There was a communication there from MacroCode Stargazers LLC, an offer in fact. How they could possibly know that his current hitch was about up was beyond him, but they must—because the e-mail contains an offer to hire him at a salary that was far greater than what he got as an officer in the Union military.

  They wanted to hire “the Avenger,” which was what they called him—the Avenger of The Mariner—to helm their corporate space fleet. These would be state-of-the-art vessels, and he would have total control over battle plans, supply contractors, everything down to the choice of bands at company dances.

  All he had to do was resign his commission.

  And, may the great spirit of the galaxy help me, he thought.

  He was considering it.

  That was the third time some corporation had tried to pry him away from the Union. He was under no illusions about it; he was something of a celebrity, and the corpers traded off that sort of thing. There was no doubt that if he were to take the offer, Ashley and he could have a far better quality of life than they currently did. The new The Seeker was a hell of a ship, but it was not really military/exploration any longer. It was all geared toward war.

  Like we said ‘fuck you’ to exploring.

  He looked around the commercial playground. He knew it had been done to keep the troops happy during the grinding war, but it didn’t seem right to him. He knew from what he had seen of the corper fleets that they were leaner and meaner in some ways than theirs was.

  He had seen so many ships destroyed and so many people dying. He had done so much killing himself. Tomorrow, he would see more of it, no doubt. He had had his fill of fighting and death. He saw the statistics, and watched the numbers of dead tick up.

  He had become inured to it all. He had to—otherwise he wouldn’t be able to do his job. But after years of it...if the casualties go from 9 to 10 digits of dead people, at what point did it even matter? He felt that he had lost his determination in the face of the endless struggle.

  He had accomplished much in the name of the Union. If he could spend his sunset years aboard some sleek corper ship maintaining order in a mining colony or keeping shipping lanes secure, then who would think the less of him?

  I would.

  Jeryl trashed the offer.

  He got up from the bench and joined the flow of people, walking with no destination in mind. He never used to question his place in all of this, this interlocking structure of our culture. He had his assignment, and he carried it out as best as he could.

  He took pride in it. He had Ashley, and her love.

  But when did he ever have peace? When did he ever have a family?

  If he were honest to himself, he would think he never wanted one; and neither did she. But now he was older, and he couldn’t’ help but wonder what it would be like to be a father. It felt as if his life had split into pieces, and he was left wondering how to put them back together.

  What am I, who am I, without this war?

  Did he love Ashley, or did he simply want comfort from her? Without the war to shape them, to give their lives purpose, what would they be? Would they still even be married?

  So much had changed...it had jarred loose unpleasant thoughts and doubts that now spun around inside his head.

  His aimless wandering brought him to the corridor where they had their temporary quarters. Jeryl frowned at the doorway. He didn’t mean to come here. He wanted to lose himself in the press of people, not hide away. He heaved a sigh and entered.

  Inside, Ashley was seated at the small table in their miniscule sitting room, having coffee. (Okay, Jeryl admitted; it was good coffee. One benefit the corpers had brought them.)

  Ashley was beautiful. She looked at Jeryl and all his doubts dropped away, replaced by sheer lust. He couldn’t get enough of her, he went to her, he put his hands on his shoulders and ran them down the sides of her breasts.

  “Coffee?” He murmured into her hair.

  “Sir, yes sir,” she murmured back.

  Tomorrow, they would go into battle yet again. All their angst and frustration, though, was on hold now as she stood and pressed herself against him. He slid his hands down her back and gripped her ass. They kissed, and walked themselves, still kissing, into the sleeping chamber. They tore their uniforms off and lost themselves in each other.

  I have found the solace I seek, Jeryl thought. Nothing else matters.

  Ashley

  Nowadays, it was difficult to find peace and solace. The war had ravaged so many worlds. Hundreds of millions had died.

  Not millions, Ashley corrected herself.

  Billions. The number the government acknowledged was 4 billion.

  Who knew if that was indeed the real number? Most of the damage was here, in the Edoris Sector. But it was all across the border with the Sonali. The border they only learned about through five years of attacks. They had all come through the Edoris Sector.

  But even if it was 4 billion out of the 44 billion people that lived in the Terran Union, for Ashley, it was still a lot. Real people. Real people with beating hearts, living hopes, and now dead dreams. Sometimes she could almost see them in her dreams. Entire family lines had been wiped away.

  Yet, they all kept fighting. They kept moving. They had to; they were compelled by the unprecedented losses they had endured to fight on, for if they did not fight on…then those loses would had been in vain.

  Ashley had to adapt. Five years of war between the humans and the Sonali—she had to grow. She had watched the Terran Armada turn her into an instrument of deadly force. She had developed a military mind, one that had become far too comfortable with some of the atrocities of war.

  Nevertheless, she had somehow managed to retain her humanity. She couldn’t say this for the rest of the crew of The Seeker. Not because she had witnessed any flagrant mis
demeanor, but simply because…she didn’t know. War changed people in ways that were beyond recognition. In the heat of the moment, people just might surprise themselves at the things they could do.

  She wasn’t the same First Officer Commander Ashley Gavin that served aboard The Seeker, five years back when they made First Contact (well… Second Contact) with the Sonali. Now, she was Captain Jeryl’s First Officer in The Seeker, now a Battle Cruiser.

  She was also his wife; a good thing that came off their time serving together aboard the frigate.

  They were docked at Edoris Station, but they were getting ready to move out. Final system checks were being run by the engineering department in conjunction with some of the station’s technical crew and engineers. The repairs had been tested and flexed as much as they could be while on the station.

  She trusted the crew to conduct the tests and final checks without her breathing down their necks. By now they had already been briefed about where they were headed next and what was expected of them. They knew what was at stake.

  This was humanity’s last stand. If they lost it here, it would only be a matter of time until humans became a footnote in the universe’s history. If they win here, though, humanity would finally have a hope at survival. The stakes were high and everyone knew it. Everyone was doing their best. Ashley just hoped that would be enough.

  “This is good, being here with you,” Ashley whispered, looking at Jeryl a smile dawning on her lips. They were still in their temporary quarters, and she was locked in his arms, enjoying his hot breath in her hair and feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the memories of happiness that they had known through constant sadness flood her.

  The fun.

  The love making.

  The many nights she spent in his arms looking at the stars.

  Then, she focused in on last night. Jeryl was rough, but she liked it. Most times he was delicate. She supposed it had something to do with the war. Ashley could tell he was frustrated and angry and nervous. She would be too, if she were Captain.