by Trevor Wyatt
He sat back on his chair and suddenly realized what sustained this war for so long: it really wasn’t The Mariner.
In fact, no one spoke about The Mariner any more. They spoke about the destruction of their bases. They spoke about the pillaging of their worlds. They spoke about the death and destruction the Sonali had left in their wake. They spoke of how close humanity came to be terminated.
We may have falsely started this war, thought Jeryl. But the Sonali are as much responsible for its prognosis as we are.
Now that he was facing possible genocide, he had a decision to make. The Sonali had never demonstrated the kind of restraint he was feeling. They had been careless in attacking defenseless planets. Once, they had leveled a planet with more than five hundred million inhabitants.
That planet was far removed from the front lines and didn’t have any defenses. This was two years ago. They had punched through their lines in the Eridan Sector. Came as close to the Core Worlds as they ever came before.
Jeryl knew he shouldn’t even be considering mercy with the Sonali, yet here he was.
Well, I guess I’m only human.
He smiled as he arrived at this stunning revelation. This was what differentiated them from the Sonali.
We’re merciful, they aren’t. We’re kind, they aren’t. We’re reasonable, they aren’t.
But it wasn’t as simple as that, was it? Were these descriptive terms universal or was he just trying to understand the Sonali, another intelligent species, through the lens of human experience? What would Professor Guss have said?
Having fought the Sonali, he decided that much of what his professor taught was bullshit philosophy. When push came to shove, the Sonali was just another human foe they had to defeat.
“Pull up file FC 001,” he said into the air.
“Access denied,” the computer said. “File is classified.”
“Override authorization code AGZ121,” he said,
“Checking,” came the computer reply. A moment later, “Access granted.”
Then, a holoscreen appeared over his table at a good distance from him. It was a voice recording of his experience with the Sonali ship five years ago. It was recorded at the Edoris Station, a meeting of the entire leadership of the Armada, immediately after his contact with the Sonali. The results of the meeting were classified, including all recordings and notes made, but he was one of the participants in that meeting, and he had access to it.
“Play,” he said and the recording starts. Closing his eyes and listening to himself five years ago, self-recounting the experience with the Sonali, he began to relish every moment.
The back and forth with the ship’s head. The messages buried beneath messages. The clicking and popping sound of the Sonali. The blue humanoid creature that sometimes tortured his sleep. The accusation he leveled against them for The Mariner. The aggressive response he got … and a request to come on a diplomatic mission to their home planet, veiled by a threat to use force on them.
They never admitted to destroying The Mariner. But why not? If they did it, why not admit it?
Jeryl remembered The Seeker’s original purpose: to find out what had happened to The Mariner. Why did he never accomplish that? It might not be enough to reverse all the damage this war had caused, but it might suffice to stop the Wolf Offensive and preserve what humanity they still had left in them.
He picked up his tablet from his table and call up his report from that day. He checked their current bearings to see if they could make a detour. He saw that they could.
He walked into the CNC, head held high.
“Captain on deck!” roared the security personnel.
“At ease,” he said, noticing as some of his officers become tense. Jeryl took his seat. He could feel Ashley’s eyes boring holes into the side of his right temple. He shared his deepest and darkest thoughts with her. She knew that he had been struggling with their orders. He just hope she didn’t feel like she had to oppose him when he decided on what to do next.
“Lieutenant Eilean,” he said, “give me an update.”
“We are approaching the rendezvous point, sir,” she replied.
“Okay,” he said. He felt the tension in the bones of his fingers as he tightened them around the edge of his seat. Whatever decision he made from there on out, he would need the full cooperation of his crew.
“Prepare to make a course correction, First Lieutenant.”
He watched her carefully as she scanned the readout on her workstation, before scanning the information on the view screen. He knew she was looking for reasons for a course correction. When she was certain there was no need for a correction, she looked at Jeryl.
“What correction, sir?”
He grabbed his tablet from his side and tapped a button.
“Sending you the coordinates.”
She returned her attention to her workstation as the coordinate slid into her view. She pulled up the map of the quadrant, placing the coordinate Jeryl had sent her, their present location, and where they ought to be. She put the information on the screen so that everyone could see it.
“Captain, that’s way off course,” she replied. Then she looked at him. “I don’t understand.”
That was when Ashley joined in. “Captain, why do you want us to go there?”
He raised his voice for two reasons: one, for everyone in the CNC to hear him. Two, he wanted them to understand this decision was not up for debate.
“Many of you know that this area is where it all began. This is where The Mariner went missing, and where it was destroyed. This is also where we, five years ago, made First Contact with another species. Well, the coordinate you see on the screen is where our trail five years ago ended, when we were intercepted by the first Sonali ship.”
Ashley was by her side now. She was looking at his tablet, so he twisted his wrist so she could get a better look.
“But why go there?” she asked him in a whisper.
Everyone’s attention was still focused on Jeryl, but he addressed his First Officer alone.
“Because everything we need to know about this damn war is right there. Let’s know for sure what happened to The Mariner before we commit a terrible mistake.”
Ashley
Ashley knew she should be happy and excited.
After all, throughout their flight to this quadrant, she had campaigned against the brutality of the Wolf Offensive. Right now, though, she was neither happy nor excited. If anything, she was exhausted.
She nodded her acquiescence to the Captain and returned to her station. She made it like she was okay with his decision, though she still felt a bit hurt; hurt because his decision came as a shock to her. He had told her how he felt about the Wolf Offensive, agreeing with her in the confines of our quarters. Now, he was going ahead to effect a change to their flight plan based on what? She wondered what made him change his mind so fast.
“We need to find out the truth,” he said out loud. “Not our truth. Not something we assumed to be true. We need to find out the truth.”
Oddly, everyone nodded their head in agreement. Some even muttered their agreement. Ashley snatched a glance at him to find that he was looking at her. She returned her gaze to her console and remained passive. She could feel him looking at her. In fact, she could almost hear him asking her what the problem was.
“Course plotted and ready to execute, sir,” the navigator officer said.
“Go ahead, Eilean. Take us there.”
There was a sharp whine as the Battle Cruise began to change course at FTL factor four. Before long, they were on course to the coordinates the captain had shared. Ashley began to wonder what awaited them out there.
She began to feel her unease subside—but not because she was finally going to know the truth. It subsided because another emotion rose in her mind.
Fear.
What were they going to find there? Most people were afraid of their past, and Ashley was no different. She was about t
o face it head-on, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it. What if they found out that the Sonali hadn’t destroyed The Mariner?
What would they do then?
Her console notified her that a course correction had been completed, and that this had affected their mission profile. The system began to re-ration supplies, food, and fuel. There was a form that popped up and asked for her to input the new mission parameters so the system could complete its recalculation. She tapped emergency and then put in one hour as the duration of the new mission. Then she notified the system that after the mission, they would be retuning back on course. When she was done, it began recalculating rations.
“What’s the matter?” Ashley heard a voice say behind her. She almost jumped out of her skin, though the most she did was grab her console a little too tighter. Jeryl was close to her now, closer than what people would accept as appropriate. She knew she should enjoy it, but she as too tense for that. Rather, she felt a little irritated, especially after his rash decision. He could had just told her.
“Nothing,” she said, keeping her eyes focused on the rationing.
“I thought this is what you wanted?” he asked again.
Ashley looked around for a moment to see if they were being watched. No one was looking in their direction so she replied.
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you look happy?” he said.
“Did you do it for me?” she shot back, a little too sharp. She upbraided herself and told herself to remember that he was her captain now.
He didn’t seem to take offense. She doubted he noticed the acrimony in her voice.
“No. But this is what you’ve been pushing for.”
She heaved an impatient sigh and turned to look him in his eyes. She saw that he sincerely wanted to know what was wrong. This made her bite back on the sharp rebuke she was about to shoot his way. Overwhelmed with compassion, she couldn’t help closing her eyes. She didn’t want the crew to see her and the Captain have a moment. But even if they did, what did it matter anymore?
After everything they had done, what did anything matter anymore?
After all the blood on their hands…nothing should shock them anymore.
“It’s not because of what you and I have talked about,” she said in a tone so low that Jeryl craned his neck to hear. “It’s just…because I had to find out on the CNC. Like any other person.”
She saw his eyes widen. Then he frowned. His frown was only fleeting, and then it dissolved. Right now, she was seeing her husband, not her Captain.
“I’m sorry, Ash. If it’s any consolation, I only found out that this would be our course of action a few minutes ago.”
She nodded, but she was not satisfied. Noticing, he came even closer and put his hand on her waist. Shocked, she jerked away. She looked at him aghast.
He smiled.
“Captain, we’re getting multiple hails from the ships heading to the rendezvous point,” Mary Taylor called from her workstation. This broke the little impasse between her and Jeryl. He wore his Captain face before returning to his seat.
“What do they want?” Captain Jeryl Montgomery asked.
The husband was buried. The lover was gone.
The communications officer turned around in her swivel seat and looked at the captain’s direction. “They want to know why we’ve changed direction.”
“We need to be sure there’s still something in the coordinates before we tell them anything, sir,” Ashley said.
He agreed with her. He told the communications officer to stand by and then went over to Dr. Lannigan’s station.
He stood beside the man and said, “I want you to run a scan of the area we are headed to. I want you to see if you can still detect the debris from The Mariner. I know it has been five years…”
“Sir, that’s a significant amount of time,” the science officer replied. “It’s highly doubtful that we would detect—”
“Run multiple scans across all spectrums,” the captain persisted, cutting him short.
“Sir, even if we can detect it,” the science officer said, “there’s still the issue of motion.”
“Explain.”
The science officer gesticulated as he explained. “Sir, space isn’t static. It’s in a constant state of motion because of gravity. Now, this debris has been in motion due to the gravitational pull of the nearby star for five years. I can assure you that it’s not in the coordinates you’ve supplied. If we scanned the place, we are likely going to come up with false or misleading data.”
“Plus, there’s the problem of degradation. The debris would have undergone a massive amount of degradation over these five years. Even if we located the debris, and we won’t, at least not in the current coordinates, it may not offer the solution we seek.”
Ashley cringed internally at the officer’s effrontery. She was about to reprimand him before the captain did something worse like relieve him of duty, but he beat her to it.
“I understand all you’ve explained,” Jeryl said to the science officer. “Proceed with the scans.”
“Docherty, proceed along the current course,” the Captain vocalized above Dr. Lannigan’s protest. The Junior Science Officer looked at the navigator and then nodded his assent. “That’s where The Mariner once was. We’re going to follow it this time until the end. No Sonali ship will stop us.”
There was finality to his voice.
She wondered what had gotten into him. There was a whole new different vibe on him. He returned to his seat, where his tablet was, and picked up the device. He muttered to himself as he put in data into it.
He walked over to Docherty.
“Can we create a flight path that mimics the movement of The Mariner’s debris movement under the gravity in the area? Something that would show me where The Mariner would be at this time if it maintained its heading without interference? “
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “But it’s going to take some time.”
“Do it,” he said.
“Sir, we have one priority message from the senior captain on site at the rendezvous,” said the communications officer.
Jeryl returned to his seat.
“On screen.”
A section of the view screen metamorphosed into a view of a CNC roughly the same size as theirs. Standing in an empty captain seat was a bulky man in his mid-forties with a clean-shaven head and a mean expression.
“Captain Soduku,” Jeryl said, his voice tight and commanding.
“Sir, are you okay?” the man said, his tone completely devoid of any sympathy.
“We noticed a course deviation that takes you away from the rendezvous. Is your navigations AI acting up? Do you require assistance?”
“No, Captain,” Jeryl replied. “Everything’s fine. We are following up on a new lead. Please stand by.”
Then the visual feeds ended.
“They will ask questions,” Ashley said out loud. “It won’t be long before we start getting slipstream hails from Armada Command.”
“Let them call,” he replied, as much for the benefit of the CNC crew as it was for her. “We’re not going anywhere until The Seeker accomplishes its original mission. We’re going to find out what happened to The Mariner.”
She heard the unspoken words that only she could tell because he was her husband.
If we have to die trying, he was going to say.
Well, Ashley thought, I suppose today is as good a day as any.
Jeryl
I may sound calm and collected. I may look cool. Don’t be deceived, Jeryl told an imaginary audience in his head.
The difference between what I feel and what my face shows is like the difference between night and day. Sometimes I have to force myself to breathe because the tension shooting through my veins has me distracted from it. There’s fear, too—the kind of fear that might turn into terror.
But I have to remain strong and clear if we’re going to make it through.
Jer
yl knew Ashley never agreed to this. But right now his wife’s opinion didn’t matter. The only person’s opinion he was willing to consider was his First Officer’s. He needed her speaking to him as a Commander in the Armada, and not as the wife of a Captain.
He looked around to see if he was being observed by any of the crewmates. No one was watching him except, of course, the three security officers on the CNC.
“Helm,” he said from his seat. “Show us the deviation in our course from that of the Fleet. Put it on visual.”
The image came up and Jeryl looked up at it. A transparent map of the sector superimposed the view of the energy shield around the ship. There were three headings represented by short dashes; one is their previous heading, which entered the nebula from the lower left and maintained a straight bearing to the upper left portion. Twenty-one dots represented the ship’s predetermined course and rendezvous location.
He saw another bearing veering off from a certain point along the original bearing to the right. It terminated in a single dot, which appeared to be in the right central portion of the map. Then he saw a proposed bearing from where they were along the second bearing. This proposed bearing veered a little back to the left, and terminated at the right corner of the map. It was in the total opposite direction of where the fleet was headed to for the mission.
Jeryl realized with a fresh onslaught of nerve-wracking terror that if he pursued the course he lay down for the ship, they were going to be travelling away from the fleet. If they ran into trouble, there would be no help or backup. And even if they were able to call for help, it would take the Armada too long a time to arrive, and by which time they would long be dead—killed by the same thing that decimated The Mariner.
“Sir, you do realize that the course will take us away from the fleet?” Ashley said from her console. “It will put is in the direct opposite direction of the fleet, plus out of its range should anything go wrong.”
“I realize that,” he said. He glanced at the navigator who, all the while, had been looking at him. “Set the course as amended and take us to that coordinate.”
