by Trevor Wyatt
“Excellent,” the professor said. “There are other examples, of course. In Japan prolonged eye contact is considered offensive.”
The Japanese girl nodded.
“However,” said Professor Guss, “In Arab and Latin American regions, strong eye contact is necessary or else, you’ll be regarded as evasive and unreliable. So you have to have an awareness of the culture with which you are communicating.”
“But that’s not going to be possible with extraterrestrials,” Jeryl said. “We will be in a cultural vacuum.”
“And that,” said Professor Guss, “is precisely my point. You may well find yourself in a position where you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t.”
“Well, what do we do then?”
“You will have to weigh the possibilities as best you can, and take the course that results in the least amount of burning.”
It was terribly frustrating. Guss’ class, which cadets had taken almost as a lark, had become the most thought-provoking one of all. Whereas they could study navigational problems all week long and arrive at exact methodologies, they could discuss cultural imperatives for a year and never solve the problem.
* * *
What I have to do is to look at the situation from Ghosal’s point of view, much as it pains me to do so, Jeryl admits to himself.
From his viewpoint, they were interlopers, and trespassers; no matter how valid their reasons were to themselves. It could well be that the only way to approach the problem was to request permission to investigate the region of space. As far as Ghosal was concerned, they had barged in without so much as a by-your-leave.
The fact that they hadn’t had a clue that Ghosal’s ship was there or that the nebula was considered private property didn’t matter in the least.
Ignorance of the law, as the old saying goes, is no excuse.
Jeryl tapped his fingers on his console. He was going to have to do something he didn’t want to do. Admiral Flynn wasn’t going to like it. His crew wasn’t going to like it. Hell, he didn’t like it.
Knowing that he was going to leave himself open to all sorts of criticism from every level of command, he closed his eyes.
Hellfire, Professor, he thought, when you said there would be times when I’d be damned if I did and damned if I didn’t, you didn’t know the half of it.
Jeryl brushed off his uniform—a delaying tactic. He didn’t want to go back out into the CNC and tell them what he had to tell them.
He was wrong; there wasn’t a clue to be had in his memory of the professor’s discussion on cultural imperatives. Not as far as problem solving, anyway.
The captain thought, the subtext is clear: this is a test of me, of Jeryl Montgomery.
Jeryl had to do the right thing. Which meant he couldn’t stand up to these Sonali bastards and dare them to shoot his ass off, because they would—along with the collective ass of his crew.
He was now pretty fucking sure that those blue skinned bastards destroyed The Mariner.
But the universe doesn’t care. And we can’t get any vengeance now.
Jeryl Montgomery could risk his crew to stay and bring justice to these people—but he dared not risk that.
And so, with as much dignity and gravitas as he can muster, he re-entered the CNC and said, “Mr. Ferriero, lay in a course for home.” There is dead silence as The Seeker’s FTL engines engage, flinging us into interstellar space.
Captain Jeryl wasn’t happy.
Book II
Book II
2197-2202
Chapter 1
Jeryl
“Another Davosian ale please,” Jeryl asked the waiter as the man came by. He glanced at Ashley who was sitting next to him at the table, and then to Dr. Mahesh who was sitting on the other side.
It had been three months since Jeryl had turned The Seeker around and ten days since war had been declared, and right now the trio watched the news briefings with deeper and deeper gloom in the crowded New Washington bar.
Jeryl looked out the window from his seat. They were up on the 135th floor of the Cartright Building in New Washington’s Commerce District.
The Commerce District took up most of the equatorial continent that the planet-city dwellers had named ‘Bartomine’, and from where he was sitting, Jeryl had a view of the bustling skyline that was the economic hub in the vast expanse of Terran Union space.
It had to happen eventually, Jeryl thought to himself. Earth was so far away. So long had it been recovering from the near extinction that the humans of prior generations had wrought upon it that as it was slowly growing back to its former glory, a colony world ideally suited across several different shipping lanes would blossom and grow.
This is more than just a colony world.
Earth may still be the political, social, and economic leader within the Terran Union, but a competing axis of influence was spreading away from the inner worlds of the Terran Union. New Washington was populated by humans who had never set foot on Earth, by people whose parents had never set foot on Earth. They didn’t feel like they owed any allegiance to the world aside from the fact that it was held in reverence for being the cradle of humanity.
It was the seat of power, sure, but it could have just as easily been anywhere else that was far removed.
In fact, the presence of Armada Command installations across this planet spoke to how the Terran Armada had recognized this fact and began to build on it.
“Earth to Captain Montgomery,” Ashley called out in her lilting voice and Jeryl was snapped out of his reverie. He realized he’d been zoning out, thinking about the state of humanity—and then Ashley had called him back down to Earth.
There it was again. The cultural significance of the homeworld. Where humanity had sprung from. Where Jeryl’s father had been born before securing passage on a freighter and making a life for himself on Mars.
Earth would never lose its significance or cease to be a central world in the scope of human affairs. It may recede in importance as newer worlds were developed and took the stage, but it would always be the home for humanity.
“You seem rather distant, Captain,” Mahesh said. “The war?”
Jeryl shrugged, coming back to the conversation. It had been ten days and The Seeker was still in New Washington Spacedock, waiting for orders. In that time, several engagements had already been fought—one in the nebula itself.
Thirteen ships had gone into the nebula, led by the TUS Celestia. They had encountered a Sonali dreadnought. This time, the Sonali had backed up their demands that the humans leave with actions, and had opened fire.
Out of the thirteen ships that went in, only the Celestia had survived.
That day, the President of the Terran Union, Joshua Harmon, had gone on slipstream to the entire known galaxy from the Terran Council chambers in Geneva.
And he had declared war on the Sonali.
What followed was swift and savage.
News reports carried scenes of carnage, almost as if the Sonali were waiting for a reason to strike at these humans whom they had just met four months ago. The reaction from the Terran Union was no less savage, although it was often in vain.
Sonali ships swept past human fleets—their ships dwarfing anything that the Terran Armada could field against them.
“Are you worried, Captain?” Ashley asked.
Jeryl frowned. “We’re on leave, Ashley,” he said. “I don’t mind if you call me Jeryl.”
He knew that it wasn’t encouraged to be informal with one’s officers, but Jeryl wasn’t looking at Ashley as his first officer at that moment.
He was looking at her as a woman. The same one he had spent his entire weekend of shore leave entwined with on New Sydney.
Her legs. Her chest. Her entire body screamed sex. No matter what she was doing, Jeryl couldn’t help but be turned on.
“Well, Captain, I can’t,” Ashley said as Jeryl looked at her. She maintained a stony expression for a while before breaking out i
nto a wicked grin that made his stomach do somersaults. “It would be…inappropriate.”
Dr. Mahesh watched the interplay between the captain and his first officer and smiled. When Jeryl turned to his friend, Mahesh shrugged.
“Listen, Captain,” he said with an air of nonchalance as he pointed to the massive viewer spouting news on the wall of the bar. “When you see this happening nowadays, I say to hell with Armada regulations. Do what brings you satisfaction in the here and now.”
Jeryl smiled and nodded. But then his attention turned to the screen that Mahesh had pointed to and he sighed.
The scene from the recent skirmish along the border was troubling.
News footage from an unmanned drone showed the debris of several Terran Union vessels. The commentator was discussing the logistics of the war with a retired Admiral.
“They say that it was five battleships that met three Sonali dreadnoughts on the border,” Ashley said, her tone grim. “They dropped fighters but the Sonali weapons cut them down before they even managed to land any blows on the ships. They made pretty short work of the battleships too. Took them out one by one. The Samira was the only one that had a chance to get away, but the Reynolds and the Minerva weren’t so lucky.”
“How many people on a battleship?” Mahesh asked.
“About four hundred,” Jeryl said, his eyes never leaving the screen. “They never even had a chance. What were the Sonali hitting?”
“It seems like they were probably going for the slipstream array that the Armada had in the system, Captai—Jeryl,” Ashley said, taking a sip of her ale. “Cut down communications in the area.”
“Which means that they’re coming after one of those border colony worlds next,” Jeryl said. “Which weren’t even border worlds a few months ago.”
“We didn’t even know the Sonali existed back then.”
Jeryl nodded, darkness overtaking his thoughts once more. “It’s almost as if we went from First Contact to war before anyone could stop and realize what was going on,” he said to no one in particular. “Why didn’t we see that we were overmatched?”
Mahesh and Ashley didn’t say anything, though they knew what Jeryl was alluding to. The Terran Union was hopelessly inferior in both ships and war fighting abilities to the Sonali Combine. Their battleships—long the pride of the Terran Armada—were half the size of Sonali dreadnoughts. Their frigates could be compared to flies.
The Sonali had made this point over the last week as they launched coordinated strikes against key worlds.
“Any word about when The Seeker is being sent back to Davos II?” Ashley asked as the camera began to repeat footage of the area of space where the battle had occurred. Flaming debris from destroyed Terran Armada vessel floated along benignly.
“We’re supposed to wait for orders here,” Jeryl said curtly. He immediately regretted his choice of words. Ashley was simply curious. In a less harsh tone he looked at her and said, “If the Admiralty wants us near Davos II, I’m sure they won’t be shy.”
Ashley shrugged. Her face frowned as she thought about what Jeryl said. It didn’t make any sense to him either. Why assign a ship to patrol and be a part of a task force designed to protect a colony of 10 million people when the lead starship was over 100 light years away and the captain was drinking Davosian Ale with his subordinates?
It was at that time that Jeryl’s comms went off and he checked who it was.
“Admiral Flynn,” Jeryl said to Ashley and Mahesh as he read the message and realized the implications.
“He says...” Jeryl paused for a moment as he considered the message over. He wanted to be out there. No matter how long it took to retrofit the ships, he wanted to avoid the fate of the Celestia.
But it was unfair He had to tell them.
Now.
“The Seeker is being ordered for combat duty,” he said. “She’s going to war.”
Chapter 2
Ashley
“Helm,” Jeryl commanded from his seat on CNC. “Signal the fleet to hold formation as we come out of FTL space and into the battle zone. We need to stay tight and hit the Sonali dreadnought in the center of their fleet. We only get one chance.”
Ashley studied the readouts from her station. It had been three days since The Seeker was given orders that removed it from its berth at New Washington Spacedock.
Armada Command was sending Jeryl to the Calendra system, along what was now being established as the border between the Terran Union and the Sonali Combine. Leading a flotilla of 22 ships, The Seeker was tasked to intercept a Sonali battle fleet that was heading to the colony world of Calendra II.
“We’re apparently not going in to drive them back,” Jeryl told her in confidence in his office as the ship had cruised through space at FTL 5. “We don’t have the ability to take on the approximately 20 ships the Sonali are using. And we’ve already lost a fleet of seven ships along the way.”
Ashley was surprised when she heard him say that. It wasn’t like the Terran Armada to prepare for defeat in the face of a battle. She told him so.
“We’re not planning for defeat here, Commander,” Jeryl replied. Was it just her or was she starting to associate him more as Jeryl and less as Captain Montgomery, she wondered. Maybe it was New Sydney. Maybe it was the brief shore leave they had enjoyed right as war had broken out. But whatever it was, their bond seemed closer now than it had been for a while.
“What are the parameters for mission success then, if its not to drive out the Sonali invasion of the Calendra system?” Ashley asked at that point.
Jeryl sighed to himself and then passed along the mission briefing packet to the First Officer.
“We need to ensure that Calendra II is given the time to evacuate as many colonists as possible before the Sonali arrive. If necessary, we are to engage the Sonali and make a stand to buy time for the citizens to evacuate,” Jeryl stated. “If needed, our lives are expendable to ensure that as many colonists get out as possible.”
Ashley simply nodded. It wasn’t the time to point out that a large number of Terran Union bureaucratic functions for the Edoris Sector. That this plan to slow down the Sonali but not actually defeat them was giving up before the first shot had been fired. That out of the million colonists on Calendra II, only a small number were probably being evacuated.
“What happens to the people who won’t be able to evacuate?” Ashley asked.
Jeryl looked pained as he replied to her. “The automated defense platforms and the colony defenses will try to hold off the Sonali as long as possible.”
Ashley looked at him and couldn’t help herself from retorting, “Jeryl, you know that there are about three hundred thousand odd bureaucrats on Calendra II. I’m sure that we’ll give our last to get them all the time they need to FTL out of here. But what about the rest of the people?”
“Ash, we have a job to do and Armada Command believes that we need to ensure that critical segments of the population are given time to re-establish operations elsewhere,” was all Jeryl could bring himself to say.
“No wonder we’re getting our asses handed to us,” Ashley sneered. “It’s not even a month in and we’ve given up after a few engagements. Now we’re throwing some people to the wolves while the ones who got us in this mess are fleeing for safety.”
There was nothing that Jeryl could say to that. They both knew that their orders were clear; to engage and harry the enemy and draw them out as long as possible.
“So that the greatest number of people can continue the fight,” Jeryl said before dismissing Ashley.
* * *
“Disengaging FTL drives and coming into normal space, Captain,” the helmsman alerted Jeryl.
Ashley looked over to the viewscreen. She noticed Jeryl tense up.
“Put me through to the fleet,” Jeryl instructed Communications and waited until he was given the signal before delivering his message.
“Attention, flotilla. This is Captain Jeryl Montgomery. We’re g
oing in to stop the Sonali dreadnought and her support craft from getting into the Caldera system. Crazy Horse, Chuckchansi, George Washington, Yorktown, Hirohito, and San Francisco, as discussed, you will engage the peripheral Sonali vessels as the remainder of the fleet while The Seeker goes after the dreadnought head on. Keep this channel open for secure intraship communications. Montgomery out.”
The channel was muted and an otherworldly red glare lit the CNC as The Seeker went to battle alert.
Moments later, the flotilla dropped out of FTL and into the outskirts of the Caldera system.
And into chaos.
“Sensors detect twenty small crafts strafing the lead Sonali frigates, Captain,” Ashley called out from her station. A moment later she looked at the viewscreen to see a motley collection of Terran fighters launching torpedoes against a Sonali craft that dwarfed the fighters by a magnitude of five.
“That’s got to be the colonial defenses,” Jeryl said, more to himself than anyone, before directing his next command to the tactical officer. “Let’s begin our run. Weapons ready, defensive shields at maximum, full speed.”
Ashley could sense the palpable tension in the air. This was the most dangerous mission that many of the crew of The Seeker had ever engaged in. Fighting border skirmishes with the Human Confederation, otherwise known as the Outer Colonies was one thing.
Tackling an alien life form that was apparently much more advanced than humanity and had only been discovered less than six months ago?
Completely different.
She could see it in the way people tried to do their jobs without letting the fear get to them. How they answered the Captain that they were launching torpedoes on the dreadnought.
She could hear the collective gasp through the CNC as the viewscreen showed, in unmerciful detail, the two lead Sonali frigates veer away from the main fleet and concentrate their weapons on the Crazy Horse.
Ashley turned to her sensors and watched as particle beams from the Sonali ships lanced out towards the Crazy Horse. The ship attempted to follow normal Armada protocol and launched torpedoes to blunt the intensity of the particle beams, but the Sonali ships were able to sustain their fire at top speeds and they began to batter the defensive shielding on Crazy Horse.
