by Trevor Wyatt
There are about three dedicated security soldiers in the CNC, all of which are assigned to Jeryl. They are his personal protection detail and this is another point of contention between me and the higher-ups. Why protect a Captain from his crew? What kind of message does that send? If anything, it’s divisive; not exactly what’s needed at this pivotal moment in the history of humanity.
They became standard issue on all starships after the encounter at Azukene Colony in which the crew went through a mutiny on the TUS Terror – unheard of at that point on any Armada vessel. The Captain had given orders for ramming speed. The crew didn’t think that the frigate they were in was going to do a damn thing against the Sonali dreadnaught. They refused to throw away their lives. They were so unaccustomed to war – I mean, it was the first year.
They murdered the Captain but by then, Sonali fighters had targeted them and taken out their FTL drives. Sonali ships swarmed them and destroyed them along with the colony. But the automated last log that the ship sent out through slipstream captured those final moments on the CNC of that vessel.
And the Armada began to post security officers to protect their Captains.
Thankfully, Jeryl agrees with me, and he has refused to succumb to the paranoia that has taken over the whole Armada. Despite that, The Seeker’s security personnel have about twenty highly trained, highly skilled, and terribly equipped men and women who don’t give a damn. I try as much as possible to stay out of their way. They don’t contribute anything to the culture and operations on The Seeker, so I just try and leave them be. You can’t fight Armada regulations, but you sure as hell can do your best to ignore them.
Jeryl takes his seat and beams at his CNC crew with pride. They don’t notice it because everyone is frantic over their controls checking off last minute details and conducting final scans and ensuring readiness. I smile at this and read through some of the reports waiting for me, my eyes going over the information cascading down my tablet screen. I'm critical about logistics, because it is my duty to ensure the ship runs smoothly so the Captain can focus on the more important decisions.
After what feels like three seconds (but really is three minutes), the Captain says, “Clear all docking.”
“Aye, captain,” replies Henry Docherty, our navigator. The ship thrums for a moment and there is a soft jerk as we are released from the station. Gently, we begin to put some distance between us and the last safe place we’ll see for quite some time. I don’t notice a roar in the engines. The inertia dampers were working well. Too well, in fact.
“First Officer Gavin. Take the ship to high alert,” the Captain says.
“High alert, sir,” I report right after tapping my fingers across the command panel holographic dashboard. The lights in the CNC and all over the ship take on a slight reddish tint. Defensive screens take over the main view screen with reports of every critical system - weapons, FTL drive, life support…it’s all there.
“Set course to Anderson Nebula,” Jeryl says at last, his voice somber. Still, there’s a deep solemnity to his words. The kind of solemnity that tells me what he’s thinking about – and it’s not pretty.
I feel a sharp jerk the moment the FTL drive kicks in and flings us into interstellar space.
“How long to the Mariner Nebula?” the Captain asks.
“Three days, Captain,” Docherty replies.
“It should give us enough time to complete whatever repairs are lagging,” the Captain says.
“Aye, Captain,” I reply.
This is it. No turning back now.
Chapter 23
Admiral Flynn
The live slipstream feed projects a full holographic image of Admiral Walker into the center of my office. The image is blotchy in some areas and a lot of times it frazzles. The sound is good and crisp though.
“Walker,” I say by way of greeting. Even though he’s spearheading the war effort, we’ve dropped the formalities between us long ago.
Walker nods. He’s sitting on a chair in his office, and that’s where the slipstream captures him. The background isn’t part of the holographic image, and I know that it’s the same for me; Walker’s only able to see me standing by my desk, and not my entire office.
“Flynn,” Admiral says in response. “What’s your status?”
I heave a sigh when he asks me that. I've been thinking about the mission I just sent over four hundred ships on. What’s my status? Not a good one, that’s for sure. I have been posing that question over and over again since the captains departed.
If they succeed and wipe out a billion innocent Sonali in one swipe, will that make me one of the greatest mass murderers in the history of the universe? I come up with a no. Nature or the cosmos is the universe’s deadliest and most cruel mass murderer.
From dust we came, to dust we shall return.
I smile in spite of myself. How true that statement is. Does the universe even care about sentience? Or are we—humans and Sonali—playing the consciousness game while the cold universe treats us with the same insignificance it’d treat a speck of dust?
No, I am not the universe’s greatest mass murderer. That prize goes to the cosmos. But I know that when this is all over, I will come in second. I’m not sure if that’s how I want to be remembered, but I suppose that when it comes to war you don’t get to choose your legacy.
Snapping out of it, I look up at the life-sized image of Admiral Walker. “The captains departed two days ago, sir. The last of them will arrive at the Mariner Nebula by tomorrow. No problems so far. The mission is still on course.”
The Admiral clears his throat and folds his hands before him. I see his hands float in the air, but I know he has them on his table, which the slipstream does not project. I begin to pace in front of my desk. I tether on the verge of telling Admiral Walker my fears.
Despite our seniority, we have a lot in common. He was my senior back at the academy, and I’ve served under his command twice. Once as a First Officer, and another time as a Captain within his jurisdiction. Now, at this crucial moment in the galaxy’s history, I’m serving with him. I’ve never thought I’d have the opportunity to determine the course of the universe. Now, I find myself saddled with that responsibility—and who else to help me carry it but Walker himself?
He must have noticed my discomfort because he says, “You know how important this mission is, Flynn. Do I need to remind you of that?”
There is some sort of unspoken tradition in the fleet—when your CO asks such a question you reply with a firm negative, even though you sure need reminding.
But I don’t.
Not because I need reminding, but because I’m not so sure this is the best course of action. It’s ruthless, vicious. It’s … inhuman.
After pacing for a while, I pause in front of the Admiral. Looking up to him, I purse my lips and muster the necessary courage to continue. “Do you know Armada Intelligence reports that this planet we are going to hit, this Sonali planet in the Beta Hydra III quadrant, is one of the most populated and densest planets belonging to the Sonali people in this sector?”
Admiral Walker looks at me as if he doesn’t understand what I’m saying. But I know he does. “Those ships will hit that planet, Flynn. This final attack will happen.” He stresses his voice and cocks his eyebrow when he says ‘will’.
“There are a billion people on that planet and Intelligence believes it holds a mythic status for most of the Sonali. Like if someone came and destroyed Earth,” I say to him.
He stares at me.
I feel like a kid in class.
“Did you know?” I press. “Did you get the report?” Of course, he knows. He read the report long before Armada Intelligence sent it my way. I wonder why they sent it. To guilt trip me? To what end? Or maybe someone there is feeling guilty, and trying their possible best to stave off genocide. Maybe they believe that there’s still someone in the Armada’s upper echelon with a heart. Someone whose conscience hasn’t been seared by the hot
iron of war.
Admiral Walker sighs and closes his eyes. “Yes, Flynn. I read the report. I read it five months ago. In fact, that’s the report that shaped this offensive. Why?” He opens his eyes and I see his weary look. I know he expects my protest, so I just go ahead and give him.
“I have my misgivings, Walker,” I say, matter-of-factly. “A lot of people have been talking. A lot of our admirals, too.”
“They can talk all they want,” Admiral Walker replies. “They can debate all they want. This attack will happen. We are far down the line to begin to second guess our decisions.”
“I know, I know, but don’t you empathize with their misgivings?” I ask. “It doesn’t matter if these guys are humans or not. There are laws in war. There are certain things that are just inhumane and shouldn’t be tolerated during war.”
“These laws are the reason why four billion people are dead!” Admiral Walker snaps, and right then and there I hear the voice and anguish of all the death this war has caused. Walker is standing now and bristling with unbridled rage.
I'm rooted in the ground, and I don’t even dare to move or speak—not while Walker is this riled up. Still, I stare him down and refuse to back down. There’s enough white in my hair to give me that right.
Still maintaining his scowl and hardline voice, he says, “Four billion people are dead because of laws, Flynn! Do you think a bureaucrat in New Washington or Earth knows how to win a war? They tell us what to do, and what not to do. Meanwhile, people are dying.” With that, run one hand through his thinning hair and looks at me with a tired expression. “I don’t need my point Admiral having second thoughts, going soft on me, and giving himself to the prejudices of what is right and proper.”
Admiral Walker sighs and sits back down. I continue to pace, my heart beating faster. I am angry now. Angry at Admiral Walker. Angry at the Wolf Offensive. Angry at myself for committing and supporting such an act. And yet, I’m also angry at myself for having second thoughts.
I hear Walker’s exhalation before I hear his voice: “Well, Flynn, it really doesn’t matter what misgivings you or any other person within the Armada or the Union think. We’re at the point of no return… You are at the point of no return. You are under obligation to see this mission through, after which I can take point if you wish. Just let me know.”
That does it for me. I stop pacing and stand at attention before the Admiral.
“How can you even say that, sir?” I ask.
He shrugs.
“The Armada is my life. How can I trade up my life?” I continue. “I have no problem with my current orders. I will carry them out to the letter.”
“Good,” Admiral Walker replies. “For a moment there you had me worried. Look, there are many who can sit in a room and begin to pick our decisions apart. I find that these office types are the ones who end up costing us more in war. When they are exposed to the horrors of war, when they have lost captains, friends, confidants, family…that’s when they realize that, when it comes to protecting all that you love and care for, boundaries must be crossed.” I find that I have been holding my breath. I let it out slowly.
“So, you agree we’re crossing a boundary?”
He makes a face. “Are you serious, Flynn? What do you think I am, a mindless beast? Of course. But make no mistake. This isn’t just a war for territory or dominance. This is a war for survival. We’re fighting for more than just the Union… we’re fighting for the human race. And I’ll be damned if I don’t cross every single line in the sand to see to it that we survive.”
“Get your mind and heart right, Flynn,” Walker continues. “Your captains don’t need you giving voice to all that tension.”
“Yes, sir,” I say.
He gives me a final nod. “Walker out,” he mutters, more to himself than to me, vanishes from my office.
I exhale aloud.
I have my orders, and they must be carried out. And that’s the end of it.
And still…
Chapter 24
Jeryl
I am in my Captain’s Office, looking at the ceiling. I feel the steady hum of the FTL drive, a constant presence whenever you engage it.
Most of the repairs on the ship have been done. All systems are nominal. All weapons are ready. All officers are ready to engage. This is as ready as we’ll ever be. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever been this ready for a battle, even counting these five years of war. Yet, somehow, the closer we get to the Mariner Nebula, the closer we get to annihilating the Sonali planet…and the more restless I become.
I better get it together. We have barely a day left.
I haven’t spoken about it to anybody. Well, that isn’t exactly true; I once went to the sick bay to see my chief medical officer, Dr. Mahesh Rigsang. I suspected I was having a heart problem of some sort. Maybe I had ruptured a vein or something. After a thorough check, the CMO cleared me and told me I was perfectly healthy. When I told him I didn’t feel so healthy, he gave me some sleeping pills and told me to rest. I was just stressed, he said. I’d say that was putting it lightly.
I took the pills, but still no respite.
This goes way beyond stress; I am just afraid to admit it.
A little crack. This is what the enemy needs to win the war. Just a tiny little crack. I can’t allow for any cracks. I can’t second-guess myself. I can’t give in to doubt, even though it might wrap itself around my heart, squeezing it tight.
I can’t give in.
I won’t give in
I shut my eyes for a moment, allowing the darkness to swallow me whole.
There are a lot of people on this ship (not to mention all the others joining us at the Mariner Nebula), and they’re all depending on me.
Shouldn’t that be the exact reason to allow doubt in? A small voice in the back of my head whispers.
I grit my teeth and, before I know what I’m doing, I’ve balled both hands into fists.
As a captain, I can’t stand the thought of making a mistake that would cost the lives of my crew. And it’s that same thought that weighs me down—what if I make a mistake that doesn't cost me my crew, but costs the lives of…billions? Maybe I could’ve prevented all this.
But then, I ask myself—would any other Captain have handled things differently? If The Seeker hadn’t been the one assigned to that mission, would things have gone down the way they did? Sometimes, I think it would’ve happened the way it did. Others, well…
I've survived this long because of Ashley. She’s the anchor that holds me down and keeps me down. She is the reason I keep fighting. She is the light in the darkness. Whenever these doubts weigh me down, she’s the one I turn to.
But I can’t stop my mind from spinning endlessly. Never. And I’ve tried.
What if I was better prepared when I met the Sonali for the first time? I was ill prepared for it, and that because I always disregarded the possibility of alien life in the universe.
How about now? I ask myself. Now you are racing towars the Sonali to deal out a fatal blow to their species. Now you know ahead of time. There’s no excuse.
Realization hits me. Whatever actions I take, whatever happens here on out, I am fully responsible. There’ll be no excuses. History will judge me brutally. And with this realization comes a tidal wave of fear crashing down on me.
I leap out of my chair. I need to talk to someone. There’s only one person I can think of and she is off duty.
“Contact Commander Gavin,” I say, activating the ship’s AI.
“Ashley here,” her voice fills my office, and I find myself sighing with what seems like relief. For a moment, the darkness of fear recedes.
“Ash, where are you?” I ask her.
There is a pause. I never call her Ash except when we’re alone. I did it now because I want her to know that I’m not looking for the First Officer. I’m looking for my wife.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
“Do you want an honest answer?”
&
nbsp; “Yeah.”
“No, everything’s not alright,” I say.
“I’m in our quarters,” I hear her say.
“I’ll be there in two.” I cut the line and head out of my quarters. I order my security detail to remain on the CNC, and even though they don’t seem happy to obey, they have no other choice but to do it. I know I'm flagrantly disobeying Armada regulations, but so what? I want a moment of privacy with Ashley.
When I get to our quarters, I find her lying down on the bed. She sits up as I walk in.
I motion for her to remain in bed, locking the door behind me. I slip into the bed beside her, and she instinctively rests her head on my chest. It feels electric, being this close to her.
“Lights off,” I say, plunging the quarters into the state it had been when I walked in.
“What’s wrong?” she asks me after a moment of silence. Her soft voice wakes me up as I realize I must have fallen asleep.
I check for the struggle in my heart. It’s still there, but now it seems almost… insignificant. The fire blazing inside me for Ashley simply overpowers everything else. I’ve never been able to describe what I feel for her. I’m not a man of words, after all. But every cell in my being knows the truth: I love her, I really do.
“Remember how you’ve been having doubts about our commands?” I ask her.
“Yes,” she says, her voice setting off a vibration in my chest. During all our officer’s meetings, Ashley has never ceased to vocalize her misgivings about the current path that the Terran Union is following. Nevertheless, she’s always quick to ensure that the mission is a success—her commitment never requires a question mark.
“I think you may be right.”
I feel Ashley roll over until she has her arms folded on my chest, her head facing mine. I can’t see her, but I feel her looking at me.
“You’re kidding, right?” she asks.
“No. This mission doesn’t sit well with me,” I reply. “I’m telling you this not as your captain now… but as your husband. This doesn’t feel right.”
