by Trevor Wyatt
When everyone is within the shell, Colonel Masters, who is leading the charge, gives the order and we begin to move. The control center already has five cars waiting for us. We break into four groups. Leader Greer and I end up in the same group with four marines standing between us and the door.
As the elevator begins its climb up more than a hundred floors, Leader Greer breaks his silence.
“For people who have a lot to say about peaceful coexistence and wanting to live in peace,” he starts, “You sure don’t know how to go about it. You talk big game, but when pushed and shoved you fall back.”
He turns his head in my direction.
“You may have the whole universe convinced about your true intentions,” he continues, “But you are yet to convince me. If peace is what you really want, then let us see it by your actions. Because with all I have seen of you people, the Terran Union does not want this deal to go through.”
His words pierce me right through my heart like a hot needle.
I turn to look at him, my heart brimming with hot words. I hold my tongue for a moment so I don’t say any undiplomatic word.
When I am sure I won’t, I say back to him, “I’ve seen too much war in my life. I’m guessing you’ve seen too much war in your life as well. My people and the Sonali have just finished a brutal war—brutal even by your standards. If there is anything that we can do to prevent something like this from ever happening again, then we owe it to our children, to our offspring, and our descendants to do it. We can’t spend the rest of eternity fighting amongst ourselves. This can’t be what humanity came into space to do.”
Leader Greer is silent all through my impassioned reply. He breathes in deeply.
Then he says, “The universe doesn’t care what humanity wants. The universe doesn’t care what the Tyreesians want. The universe will do as it pleases. You cannot cheat fate.”
And the elevator opens up to a wide landing pad.
The marines pour into the open space before motioning for us to exit. Leader Greer and I step off the elevator onto the landing pad. The other delegates are coming from different elevators onto the pad.
Shuttles come in twos and lift them away to safety. I stand by Greer’s side. Greer is mesmerized by the astonishing skyline of New Washington, which stretches to the horizon.
There are skyscrapers like the needles on a brush, connecting the ground to the sky and creating a marvelous vista. New Washington is a planet size city with every part of it industrialized and put to use. There are six billion people who call New Washington home.
“It’s peaceful from up here,” Leader Greer says after a moment of silence.
There are two shuttles waiting.
Colonel Masters walks to us.
He says, “We have to go now.”
Leader Greer is ushered into his own shuttle, while Colonel Masters and I climb aboard the shuttle headed for The Seeker.
We strap in and the pilot executes a ninety degree leap into the air. Now used to the incredible toll such a maneuver exerts on the body, I barely feel it.
“That Greer guy probably doesn’t get invited so much to parties,” Colonel Masters says as he struggles against the vertical takeoff.
“Vice Admiral,” says the pilot from the cockpit.
“Go ahead Lieutenant,” I say.
“The Docmaster has informed me that we and the shuttle carrying the Tyreesian delegate are the last two shuttles left to dock with The Seeker.”
“Roger that,” I say.
Finally. I can exhale. Everyone is safe. They’re heading to The Seeker. We’ll be safe.
Then there is a massive explosion near us that knocks us sideways. The blast spins the shuttle off careening towards the diplomatic building. Only the quick guidance of the pilot prevents us from colliding.
My straps hold me tight, but they dig into my skin sharply. I recover quickly and turn to look out the window. I don’t see anything on my side.
“What the fuck just happened, Lieutenant?”
“Still trying to find out, Vice Admiral,” the pilot replies, frantic.
It is Colonel Masters that gets answers first.
“Sir,” he says in a voice that indicates terror, “The Tyreesian shuttle has just exploded midflight.”
Not caring for safety regulations, I unbuckle my harness and look out the window, straining to see.
I see flaming debris tumbling towards the planet surface.
And for the first time, I panic.
Ashley
The CNC is bustling with activity as my First Officer is coordinating the inflow of delegates onto The Seeker and getting them all settled in and quieted. I am sitting in a seat I have watched Jeryl sit in for more than five years and I watch the view screen with every bit of accomplishment and pride that I can muster.
All my senior officers are present and in top condition, carrying out their assigned tasks as required. All systems are nominal.
We can go into battle right now if we wanted to.
A couple of minutes ago, I had contacted Jeryl’s shuttle and asked them to dock with The Seeker, along with the shuttle belonging to the Tyreesian delegation. It has been longer than usual and I am beginning to get worried.
I wonder if they have returned back to the diplomatic headquarters or if they have docked with another Union orbiting the gargantuan planet. I am about to ask the communications officer to contact Jeryl’s shuttle again, when I hear the gasp of shock coming from the navigator.
My eyes flash from the navigator to the view screen, looking for what may have shocked the young man. That’s when I notice a tiny flare of fire somewhere in the atmosphere of the planet beneath us.
“What is it, Lieutenant?” I ask the navigator, not sure of what I’m seeing.
“There’s an explosion on the surface, ma’am.”
My heart seems to stop as I process what he says. Explosion? How? I feel a rush of blood through my ears as it warms and prickles me. I find it difficult to breathe for a moment, fear fraying at every nerve ending within my body.
“Can you clarify what you mean by an explosion?” I say, picking my words one after the other and maintaining a flaccid tone so as not to let the storm of terror overwhelm me.
“Ma’am,” the communications officer replies, “it appears that one of the shuttles exploded midflight. We are yet to determine what the cause of the explosion was.”
I leap out of my sit, my heart pounding hard against my chest. Jeryl…He’s in one of those shuttles.
Oh my god.
My mind is suddenly surrounded with terrifying pictures of Jeryl lying in state at an official Armada burial ceremony and me wearing black and crying my heart and eyes out. I shook away the picture out of my mind, struggling to remain calm and reasonable; a feat that is incredible difficult to achieve.
“Confirm whose ship was destroyed,” I say, keeping my voice low.
In the corner of my eye, I can see my First Officer keeping a wary eye on me. He knows that my husband was in one of those shuttle headed for the ship. He’s probably wondering what must be going through my mind.
He’s probably also judging my capability to lead as captain and seeing if he should commandeer my vessel because I am no longer objectively commanding as per Armada regulations.
These are all just speculations, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some of it were true. My First Officer is a very ambitious man.
Sometimes it makes me glad that I have the Armada Security guards who are assigned just to the Captain.
During the war, after mutiny on a TUS, the guards became a standard issue. I strongly disagreed back then when I saw Armada Security personnel that reported straight to Jeryl stand guard in CNC.
Now I can understand how it’s almost comforting.
“I can’t confirm, ma’am,” the navigations officer says. “There’s too much interference for our scanners to determine what exactly has happened.”
I turn to my communications officer. �
��Patch me through to either of the shuttles.”
The communications officer’s hands fly over his work station before he gives me the go ahead to speak.
I tap the button on my chair before I speak.
“Captain Gavin of The Seeker to the Shuttle Freedom. Please respond.”
Static fills the CNC.
I swallow hard, biting back tears.
“Captain Gavin of The Seeker to the Shuttle Freedom. Please respond.” This time I can’t help it and a little of my frustration pours into my last statement.
Static fills the CNC again.
“Captain, there’s no signal,” the communications officer states the obvious for my benefit.
“Patch me through to the New Washington Space Dock,” I say.
I hope they will have more information for me. I am on the verge of losing it. I feel Commander Maddox, my First Officer, edging closer to me.
I am having a hard time controlling my breathing as it threatens to send me into hyperventilation.
The communications officer gives me the go ahead.
I say, “Captain Gavin of The Seeker to Space Dock, come in.”
There’s a little static before it vanishes and is replaced with another female voice.
“Captain Gavin, this is Commander Barney of Space Dock Control. How may we assist you? Over.”
My heart lets loose a bit as I hope for some information on what’s happening down there.
“It appears there has been some kind of midflight explosion down on the planet. We were expecting two shuttles to dock with us, but none of them have and they’re not responding to our hails. Please, advise.”
There is a little pause.
“Captain Gavin, I can confirm that one of the vessels did suffer an unknown problem that caused it to explode midflight. As for the second shuttle, we cannot confirm that it was affected by the first explosion or that it exploded itself. But we can inform you that there was another explosion on the ground in the Diplomatic HQ grounds. Over.”
The communications officer looks in my direction, drawing my attention.
He says, “We are being hailed my Armada Security.”
“Is there anything I can assist you with, ma’am,” I hear Commander Barney say.
“No, thanks,” I reply. “Captain Gavin out.”
I terminate the connection from my chair control, then say to the communications officer. “On screen.”
The screen splits into two.
A tall gangly man appears on the left side of the screen. He has a solid build, in spite of his height and is currently wearing a no nonsense look.
I recognize him immediately. He’s the head of security for the Terran Armada on New Washington. A man that has a brutish reputation.
“Commander Samson, please go ahead,” I say at once.
“Captain Gavin,” he starts. “Do you know anything about the Tyreesian shuttle that exploded midflight a few minutes ago?”
Sadly, I feel a little bit of relief. At least I know it isn’t Jeryl’s ship that exploded. But this doesn’t mean my husband is safe. Why isn’t he answering our hails?
“The shuttle was headed to us to dock,” I reply. “We are seeking information about its whereabouts and about the other shuttle it was in flight with when the explosion happened.”
“Well, commander, we can tell you that the Tyreesian shuttle has been destroyed,” the man replies. “However, we can’t tell you what happened to the second ship. We’re still gathering all the intel on what happened. We’re dispatching some shuttles to the area to find out what happened.”
“Keep me in the loop,” I say.
“Indeed,” he replies. “Samson out.” And the man vanished, the screen returning to full screen.
I say to the communications officer, “Keep trying to get a hold of Vice Admiral Jeryl Montgomery.”
The officer nods and returns his full attention to his console.
I glance at the operations officer.
“Prepare a shuttle for me, Lieutenant. I’m going to go and find out for myself what’s happening.”
“Ma’am, I must protest that decision,” Commander Maddox speaks out.
I shoot him a surly gaze. “Why is that?”
“Ma’am, I don’t think it is wise for you to go running around the surface of the planet. You can send one of the security personnel or wait for official reports from Armada security. You should be here in case this is a prelude to a much bigger incursion. We’ll need you here in the case of a crisis.”
I stop in front of my First Officer. I look him in the eye and keep a straight face when I reply to him.
“Commander Maddox. We are orbiting the largest colony of the Terran Union and we are surrounded by many, many Terran Union Starships. If this is the precursor to an invasion all the way here at the heart of Terran space, then one more captain being around will not make a difference because we’d already be fucked.”
The Commander takes a startled step back at my use of profanity. Unapologetically, I exit the bridge and take the elevator down to the shuttle bay deck.
There’s a pilot there waiting for me. I enter and the pilot lifts off.
We make a deep dive for the planet. Once we strike the atmosphere, the ship begins to rock from side to side and the stabilizers begin to give off a high pitched sound.
I tap the communications button that patches me through to The Seeker.
“Any word from Freedom or Vice Admiral Jeryl?” I ask.
“No, ma’am,” replies the communications officer.
I try again from the ship’s communications instrument. This time, instead of using standard hailing frequencies, I decided to try the short distance slipstream service that all shuttles are capable of.
When I have the configuration all figured out and inputted, I say, “Captain Gavin of The Seeker to the Shuttle Freedom. Please respond”
There’s a static, which only lasts for half the time before I hear a response.
“This is Vice Admiral Jeryl. Go ahead.”
As soon as I hear my husband’s voice, my heart deflates from its height of tension to a sense of relief.
“Are you alright?” I say as soon as I can talk without sounding overly emotional.
“Yes, I am,” he replies. “But not Leader Greer. Greer is dead along with his entire delegation.”
“Oh. My. God,” I whisper, trying to figure out how much of a diplomatic disaster this would turn out to be.
My husband does me the favor by giving me an idea.
He says, “This has probably turned into another disastrous day, much like the day we first met the Sonali.”
“I’m in a shuttle now,” I say. “We’ve just cleared the atmosphere and gotten permission to proceed. What do you want me to do?”
“Meet me at Armada Command,” he replies. “We’re just landing, so I’ll wait for you on the landing pad.”
I glance at the pilot who nods and inputs the coordinates.
“Okay. I’ll be there,” I say before the line goes dead.
I tap a button and a holographic projection appears on from my command chair.
The news channel is covering the live event that is going on in the diplomatic HQ, which is being broadcast across all throughout Terran space. I am greeted with terrifying images of protesters clashing with the security team and then Armada Marines.
I see as protesters are killed by the weapons of Marines, who were trained to protect humans.
I see as the screen splits into two. One shows the horrifying image of protestors falling to the blazing weapons of the Marines, while the other screen shows the Tyreesian ship exploding midflight and being engulfed with fire.
I see people crying on the grounds in front of the diplomatic building.
I see some writhing in pain, dead bodies strewn around like ragged dolls. Yet the fire fight proceeds, laser and disruptor fire crisscrossing the screen.
I listen for a moment as the reporter begins to speculate
that this may be the final end for the ongoing negotiations to establish a galactic council. The reporter also broaches the subject of increased anti-alien sentiment.
Soon later, the shuttle touches down and I exit.
I see my husband standing alright and well, a series of high ranking officers including Colonel Masters standing with him. It appears they are all waiting for him, while he waits for me.
The moment I set foot on the paved ground, I make a dash for him, forgetting all decorum as I leap into his waiting arms.
Ashley
We sit in stunned silence in Admiral Flynn’s office in Armada Command and watch a multi-camera replay of the outbreak of violence that occurred on the grounds of the Diplomatic Headquarters.
I am sitting right next to my husband, while Admiral Flynn sits behind his desk. The hologram stands to the left of Flynn’s massive office and the sound is crisp and clear.
I can feel as the laser blasts cut down fleeing protesters. I watch as energy shield flare up and shatter upon heavy disruptor fire from the Marines. I watch as more and more of the protesters take final stands, refusing to retreat or surrender.
“This is just so bad,” Admiral Flynn mutters to himself.
For a moment, I cut my gaze from the horrifying replay and glance to look at my husband. I can see the extreme sadness and pain in his eyes and on his face.
My heart begins to bleed and clenching my fists is all I can do to keep myself from pulling him onto my breast and stroking his hair to make him feel better. I can’t fully imagine what he must be feeling right now.
I know that the terrible war that lasted for five years between us and the Sonali is what really motivates him to push all the red tapes and hindrances, to bring all known species into a peace agreement and to establish a galactic council. I know he’s especially motivated because he feels he was responsible for the war.
For four and a half billion human deaths. For five billion Sonali dead.
Now that his plans are all but destroyed by the increasing onslaught against everything he’s working on, I wonder what he must be thinking.
I wonder what he must be feeling.
I squeeze my hands together a bit because I want to say something sweet to him. I want to let him know that I love him and that I trust him. I want him to know that we can still salvage this, even though I don’t know if we really can.
