I conducted two drills that afternoon, and was delighted to note that the ambassador and his aide were visibly unnerved at learning that there were no lifeboats or escape pods, and no possibility of rescue: if one ship was attacked, it was a foregone conclusion that the other would be unable to stop and attempt a rescue.
I began decelerating our three ships and nine of the Hawks so that we would come to a stop relative to the still undetected bug ships, which presumably were still not under acceleration. Three Hawks continued toward the estimated bug position. They were ordered to make every effort to remain undetected. The other nine Hawks were in position well out from the two destroyers and our FFC.
In the meantime, I played back for Elian every recording we had of the ambassador and his aide, made here on my ship. He was both amused and worried at the steaming pile of excrement we seemed to have stepped on. I was seriously worried that we were going to be ordered to place our ships into close proximity to the bugs, and I did not have any idea how to manage to do so without provoking a battle that I could not win. Or rather, I’d win the battle and lose the war, once back in earth orbit.
I usually found that speaking to my best friend helped me and this time was no different. After a discussion of perhaps five seconds he suggested that the second black box should be installed in my shuttle, which we would remotely launch. It would slowly approach the flotilla; communicating whatever message our Ambassador had recorded. I liked having a shuttle, but I liked having my people alive even more and I nodded my head in relief.
There was no way I was placing my ships and their crews in harms way. I would tell the ambassador that, but not until he actually requested or ordered us to begin communicating his peace offering, which of course would also communicate our exact position.
My crew went to work setting up the shuttle for a long and slow cruise. It was unarmed and clearly harmless. We ripped out the passenger seats and fabricated a large container that would hold a reserve of reactor mass, necessary if the shuttle was to have any chance of reaching the flotilla and returning to our ships. I assumed that once that small craft disappeared into the depths of space, human eyes would never see it again, but nonetheless I prepared for a miracle.
I had a very bad feeling about the way this mission was developing.
Over supper that night, Elian and I resumed speculating about how these beings came to be in our neck of the woods. Elian said, “Robertito, what if the, um, author of all that damage to that planet was this fifth flotilla? What if the other just demised mother ships and this fifth ship all came from that one solar system?” I stared at him for a moment, and shrugged. It fit all the facts we had and was a simpler solution than the one presently accepted by most people. I asked, “OK then, explain how or why this one flotilla got separated from the other four? We never observed any communication between those groups until the very end, and that message hasn’t even reached this one yet.”
Elian said, “There exist lots of possibilities: they are different clans, and this one doesn’t like the others, or its intended destination is a different solar system from the others. Perhaps it left before the others and isn’t aware of them? There were differences noted between the other four groups, or clans, families, corporations or sewing circles that would support that theory. Additionally, these beings have been under way for hundreds of years, and differences in operational procedures would have been bound to crop up. Um, if that is so, why have they all come to this one region of space after such a lengthy voyage? I’m getting a headache.”
We drank our coffee in silence for several minutes and Elian resumed spouting ideas, “Perhaps the five or so factions got into a war that escalated to the point that they destroyed their planet. Both factions utilized their last remaining resources to build their Arcs, and they fled. What I cannot account for is why or even how they remained relatively close to each other and reunited after such a long period of time. Also, what happened to the other mother ships?”
I nodded my head and said, “Well, sometimes fiction pales by comparison to truth. OK, let’s assume that you are right: they all come from one planet: what conclusions can we draw about these people? How are they going to react to our effort to communicate with them? Could we trust them as far as we could throw them if they did deign to communicate with us?”
Elian reclined his chair – actually it was my chair, but, you know, possession is nine-tenths of the law. He said, “First, we have to assume that they would be the very definition of paranoid. They might try to capture the shuttle and learn about us from it. I think that we would not want that to happen. Therefore, let’s put a bomb in the thing and have it explode the moment another ship comes up alongside. We would need an explosion that would obliterate it completely by the way.”
I grinned and said, “What you have just described would blow up the bug ship. We’d have to set it to explode if they came within, what? Five kilometers? No, five meters would be more acceptable to our lovely ambassador. That way we couldn’t be blamed for anything untoward.”
He nodded his head. We had no way of knowing just what that box had in it, so we just ignored the question. I said, “Well, once they spot our shuttle, it won’t take a genius to figure out that where there is a shuttle, there will be a small supply of handsome and hopefully virile aliens close by. We need to be able to observe the happenings, see if they send out fighters, and we need to know the types and numbers of craft these people have at their disposal. They have demonstrated a high degree of adaptability, and I do not like surprises, unless it’s a birthday cake out of which pops a beautiful and unmarried woman. Oh, yeah, scratch that.”
We laughed at the weak married man joke, and returned to our discussion. Within ten minutes we evolved a rudimentary plan that would allow us to comply with the ambassadors instructions yet not get ourselves killed doing so. We would continuously monitor the shuttle remotely and it would be chock full of our own sensors. I said, “You know, by loading the shuttle up with sensors we can tell Fleet that we provided the ambassador with even more information about the bugs. That may keep us from having to pay for the shuttle out of our salary. We do have a salary don’t we?” He shook his head, “No, idjit, we have an allowance. The former permits one to vacation in Hawaii, the latter allows one to buy a beer now and then.”
I commed the chief and gave him the outline of what we wanted and he grinned with satisfaction. He walked out of my stateroom whistling a tune, causing me to wince. In the Fleet, sailors don’t whistle. Never ever.
Within ten hours the shuttle was ready to go. We tested everything and sent it on its way without advising our passengers. It would accelerate at five G’s until it achieved a high rate of approach. We would decelerate it at the other end. Elian anticipated that it would take approximately five days to close to within a few million kilometers or so.
The next few days were very quiet, save for our continuing drills. The ambassador and his aide remained closeted in their cabins. In fact, they took their meals there. Elian and I talked to each other several times a day. I missed not having him around, and it appeared he felt the same.
As we passed the two hundred million kilometer mark I received a message from the ambassador ordering me to come to his stateroom. I grinned at my exec and said, “If I’m not back in ten minutes, send out a search party.” She laughed and I could hear several snorts of not quite stifled laughter from the bridge crew. My exec and I had gradually developed a good relationship. Although not as good as the extremely close fit Elian and I had, it was still good enough that I had turned over most of the day-to-day running of the ship to her, which is of course what a good executive officer is supposed to be doing.
This had not been an altogether easy thing for me to do, but she’d proven to be extremely competent as well as quite likable. I was slowly growing into my position. It seemed to me that Elian was having an easier time of it, but he usually had an easier time than I.
I walked down and aft a
nd knocked on the ambassador’s hatch. I was allowed entrance and stepped into the room. I looked around, noting his efforts to personalize the small space. He had several holos on the bulkhead showing him with what were presumably high-ranking officials, politicians or professors. I could not tell and I was not going to ask, mainly because I didn’t care.
He came right to the point. “Lieutenant Padilla, I’ve done some checking on you and I must say I am shocked that my beloved fleet would permit you to command such a powerful vessel. You must have some highly placed relatives or patrons who have exercised their influence to place you in such a prominent position.”
I could see that the ambassador was now adopting a new tactic. He’d failed to cow me, now he was resorting to blackmail. I wondered idly just how he’d manage to check up on me? He could only have gotten whatever information the ship database had, which was the bare essentials of name, rank and duty stations, all of which I would have cheerfully provided for him.
I said, “Sir, you asked to see me?” He looked at me and I realized that it must have been a look designed to terrify his students. I was not a student, and calmly gazed back at him alertly, although I did wonder if my two hands could fit around his skinny neck.
I hadn’t been asked to sit, and I had no intention of doing so even if invited. He said, “Since you are in fact in this position of authority, I find that I must depend upon you to help me carry out my orders.” This sounded like a capitulation. I was willing to bet, however, that it was an end run.
He paused again, and I merely stood looking at him. I could see his face get red, which caused me to wonder how on earth this man got into such a position of power and influence. Powerful relatives perhaps?” I almost chuckled.
When he saw that he was not going to be able to draw me out into a pissing contest, he said, “I have some instructions to pass on to you as to the communication device I have placed in your care. Has it been damaged in any way?”
I smiled nicely at the red faced man and said, “Sir, I have no way of determining that as we have not connected it up to power, nor have we opened it or made any attempt to determine what it is designed to do.” His opening cholera descended into anger, “You...what exactly have you done since I turned the box over to you?”
I shook my head and said, “Sir, you have given me no instructions to power it up and I have not done so. Had you given me such instructions, I would not have complied until I was satisfied that doing so would not endanger the lives of my personnel. In the absence of specific operational instructions from you, I have developed a method of placing your black box in close proximity to the alien flotilla without placing our own ships and personnel in any more danger than I deem acceptable.”
He stared at me and his anger continued to grow. Obviously, this man was accustomed to getting what he wanted via temper tantrums. Therefore, I stood and waited. I had lots of experience with family members who operated the same way.
Finally, he said, almost stuttering, “Well, lieutenant, are you going to tell me what I need to know, or am I going to have to bribe you to get that information?”
I said, “Sir, it is unlawful for either commissioned or enlisted Fleet personnel to accept bribes. If you are considering offering one, I would advise you that the offer itself would constitute a violation of Fleet regulations. As we are at this time under martial law, the penalty for such a violation would be severe. I am going to assume that your question was rhetorical, rather than an actual offer. As to that question, I have modified our shuttle, installed the second back up black box inside and sent it on ahead of us. Loss of the shuttle, while regrettable and costly, would be an acceptable trade for information about this species. In addition, the shuttle has been set up with a large variety of sensors that are designed to develop additional data on these beings. I will turn on its transmitter remotely at a time and distance that will not place our own ships in danger of attack. We are observing its approach in such a way as to prevent our own discovery.”
I paused to allow my now choleric passenger to comment. He seemed to want to say something, but hadn’t yet decided just what that was to be.
I continued, “I do not have any specific information as to the range of the transmitter; therefore I do not know how close the box will have to be. However, the solution to that lack of information is simply to allow the shuttle to proceed toward the alien flotilla until such a time as these beings react to its presence.”
“At this moment, the shuttle is approximately four million kilometers distance from the alien mother ship, proceeding at a relative velocity of forty thousand kilometers per hour. At that velocity, the shuttle will reach the mother ship within less than eighty hours, allowing for deceleration. It should come to rest, relative to the mother ship, at a distance of approximately one million kilometers, as we do not wish to create the impression that the shuttle is some form of armed assault. If you have any information that will allow us to better determine how powerful the transmitter is, or how far its range is, we can easily alter our approach.”
I finished my deliberately long presentation and waited to see if he would actually explode. I guessed that he’d spent his entire career talking while others listened – it was my great pleasure to afford him the precious opportunity to hone his listening skills, which seemed to me to be poor.
To my slight surprise the good ambassador seemed to have determined that the old anger ploy wasn’t working. He calmed down remarkably and asked, “At what point did you either ask me for permission to perform this bizarre experiment, or inform me that you were doing so?” It appeared that I’d won round one and he was changing his tactics.
I said, “As you may remember sir, your aide, acting in your name, informed me that we would be told when to power it up. You have not yet done so, and as I stated previously, I would not allow that action unless I could determine that it could be performed without endangering the ships and personnel of this command. At this time, the box in question is still on board my ship. However, you gave us no instructions as to what to do with the second black box. Therefore, we have sent it on ahead of us. When we turn on its transmitter the shuttle will commence communicating back to us as well as transmitting whatever message or messages the black box contains. When this occurs, I have instructed my crew to pipe our video and audio feed into your cabin so that you may be kept abreast of any response. Of course, you are welcome to directly observe events from our communications center. Do you have any questions sir?”
I looked down at him from my above average height. He was now remarkably composed. It was almost as if he was another person. I decided that he might be more intelligent than I had given him credit for. He asked, “Lieutenant, what is it that you expect to gain from this expedition?”
I thought about his question carefully, then said, “Sir, I am attempting to carry out the mission I have been assigned by my superiors, in a manner that allows us to learn as much as possible about these beings. I have been instructed to assist you, sir, to the extent possible, without an unwanted transfer of technology to a species that has assaulted us with no warning or provocation. Beyond those goals, sir, I have no expectations.”
He looked at me and I decided that he could indeed be a dangerous opponent. After a moment I asked, “If there is nothing more you wish to ask me, I have my duties to attend to, sir.” He shook his head and waved me out of his quarters, although I was already turning away.
The verbal sparring with this man brought back to me a flood of memories, mostly bad. I’d watched my siblings spar with each other, as well as with our parents, who seemed content to engender a competitive atmosphere rather than love.
Seventy-two hours later I placed our flotilla on a high level of alert, but short of battle stations. Our Hawks were well out from the two destroyers who were in close proximity to each other and the FFC. Although we were closing on the estimated bug position, we were not accelerating so we were barely radiating anything. I hoped that our cr
aft would be able to remain undetected until the bugs reacted in some way to the shuttle. It should happen any time now.
I hovered in the communications shack, watching the live feed from the shuttle, which was now relatively close to the bugs, whose mother ship was now visible. We made no attempt to hide it, but it didn’t radiate a lot either. It just sat there, its passive sensors recording and transmitting back to us.
Suddenly, we detected a burst of activity in near to the mother ship. Our sensors indicated that a ship had gone to a high rate of acceleration, generating a gravity field. It was almost immediately accompanied by a large number of fighters that launched from the mother ship and began fanning out in an apparent effort to prevent the escape of the shuttle.
I commed the ambassador and when his aide answered I said, “The alien fleet is beginning to react to either the shuttle or your black box. A large ship is accelerating toward the shuttle, accompanied by a significant number of fighters. At its present rate of acceleration it should be within missile range very soon, and energy weapon range shortly afterward. Do you wish to come up to the communication shack sir, and Miss Carnacion?”
Hawk Seven (Flight of the Hawk) Page 56
