Tales From The Sonali War: Year 1 of 5 (Pax Aeterna Universe Book 4)

by Trevor Wyatt

“I’m fine, just...busy,” he shrugged and thought that would be the end of it.

  Becka held his hand and looked him in the eyes with grim determination, “No, sweetheart, you’re not. If you can’t promise to take your meds, we’re going to have to report you to Corporate and Doctor Winslow.”

  With each word, Marcus zoned out a little more. The chatter began, drowning out Becka and Trevor’s chopping. When the chatter finally stopped, Marcus sat on the couch alone, bloody hands draped between his knees. He glanced over to the kitchen entrance and wasn’t surprised. Becka’s body covered Trevor’s, tangled together in a red viscous heap.

  Everyone assumed they ran away together, case closed.

  Ethan

  Marcus ran into the room with wild eyes and began tugging at the restraints like a madman. He kept looking back and yelling for someone named Trevor to help. Ethan didn’t fully understand what was happening, only that the good doctor was trying to set him free and had either gone mad, or overdosed on those stimulants. Impatience got the better of him and he struggled until Marcus chastised him. He wasn’t helping. He settled down and wondered at this man who helped him, all the while acting as if he wasn’t even there.

  Legs freed, torso freed, then Marcus froze and turned around, “Becka?” He didn’t move, just stood there listening to nothing.

  It was time to break his silence. It seemed a foolish protest now, so he lifted his foot and pushed Marcus, “Doctor!” He winced as the raspy word stung his throat.

  Marcus stumbled a couple of feet and shook his head before rushing back to his side, at last freeing his arms.

  Ethan jumped out of the bed, bare feet slapping on the tile, “Why do you free me?”

  “I’m a researcher. I don’t do dissection,” he pulled out the tablet, “Two minutes.”

  Ethan grunted and followed Marcus out the door. They ran down the corridor, each grabbing a taser rifle as they pass. The doctor was not only helping him to escape, but trusted him with a weapon. He set it to the maximum power level and kept running until they reached the front door. He smirked in approval at the guards heaped in front of it.

  Marcus glanced at the tablet. Ethan looked over his shoulder. The route was outlined in red with a timer counting down. One minute ten seconds.

  “Now we wait,” Marcus said.

  Ethan nodded and stared at the guard on top. No, that wouldn’t do. He nudged him with a foot and he rolled off the second guard. Yes, that was better.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Clothes.” He set the rifle down and yanked on the boots. They slid off the dead man’s feet with ease so he set them aside and took the pants. They were loose, but would stay up. He pulled them on, followed by the boots. Those were too tight and the shirt would never fit, and one look at the blue skin would be a giveaway, but it was better than an infirmary gown.

  The route turned green as the countdown reached zero. Marcus stepped over the guards and opened the door with ease. He shouldered the rifle and fiddled with his strange gloves. Most doors were closed and all the corridors looked the same. If not for the map, he would be lost in the first turn. They ran in silence, both occupied with watching for trouble.

  The stimulants made him hyper-alert and more than a little paranoid. He could have sworn someone was following them more than once. When he looked back the corridor was empty. How big was this place. They had already made five rights and seven lefts, and the doctor showed no signs of slowing down as they passed through one section door after another. It was strange. Why had they not encountered any humans yet? His question was answered as Marcus slowed them down, half jogging to next door.

  “Those were closed sections. Here it gets interesting,” He whispered and grabbed the handle, “Go!”

  Ethan readied his rifle and Marcus yanked the door handle. They sprinted across the corridor, ready to fight. Open section doors sprinkled the path, but most inside were too busy to notice. For a moment he thought they would make it to the end. The door was only a few paces ahead.

  “Hey!” A voice behind them shouted.

  They ducked their heads and sped up, pushing the stimulants to their limits. They reached the door just as a siren began wailing. Marcus opened it and let Ethan through. Glorious fresh air filled his lungs and he inhaled deeply, smiling back at his cohort. He froze that way. The crazy slag stood just inside the doorway with that wild look in his eyes again. Three guards closed in behind him.

  “Shoot me,” Marcus said.

  Ethan shook his head.

  “Shoot me! The building will go on lockdown and you’ll have a chance. Do it now!”

  “Why?” They could escape together. The order made no sense.

  “Atonement,” Marcus said simply. The wild look in his eyes died, replaced with emptiness.

  Ethan nodded, “My name is Zehlege,” he confessed and fired. Atonement was a concept he knew all too well.

  Marcus dropped and the door swung shut. The last thing he saw was the dismay of the torpid guards before it slammed.

  10

  TUS Terror

  I am sitting with a group of commanders in the officer’s mess of the TUS Terror. The four of us are gathered around a small square table 6. Commander Tadius is to my right, while Commander Hadley sits to my left. Across from me is Commander Chen. Commander Tadius is the head of security, while Commander Hadley is head of engineering. Commander Chen is the science officer.

  “Okay,” I say, bringing their attention back to me. “We only have a few minutes to talk before one of us gets called.”

  They nod in agreement.

  There aren’t a lot of officers about the TUS Terror, so the officers’ mess hall is quite small. There are only about five tables and three sets of food dispensers. The TUS Terror is an attack frigate; small in comparison to some of the front line vessels the Armada is throwing at the Sonali. At the moment we are the only officers in the mess, and we have the door closed so no passersby would see us.

  “It’s getting difficult out there, Craig,” says Tadius, my good friend for over ten years. Tadius is a tall, square chested black man with a bushy mass of hair that is lined with streaks of white. He’s a married man with two kids, who are all living in New Washington.

  Commander Tadius is an exemplary officer, with a track record that speaks for itself. Tadius would never complain about anything, even if he couldn’t do anything about it. He’s the kind of guy that would prefer to suffer in silence than say something. However, the tides of the war, which are terribly against us has brought forth the angry man in him.

  He’s laid back against his chair, with his hands folded across his barrel chest. He shakes his head, his eyes filled with fear. “It’s bad out there.”

  “Worse than what Command is letting out, I assure you,” I say. I am not one to be suggestive of anything untoward. I form my opinion and keep them to myself when they’re negative. However, when I see someone else, especially a colleague leaning towards the same opinion, I conclude that it wouldn’t exactly be suggestive if I let them know that I felt the same way they do.

  The truth is, we’re losing the war. The death and destruction has been on a catastrophic scale. The Terran Council and the President, instead of pushing for a cease-fire or a diplomatic solution, are putting more and more pressure on the Armada and the Council of Corporations.

  They are pressuring the Armada for more results, and this pressure filters right down to even new recruits. They are pressuring the corporations, especially those ones involved in manufacturing and building starships. Under this level of tension and stress, especially now that we are on the brink of total loss, mistakes are being made.

  Captains are leading their crews to needless death because of the need to win—the rush to win. Admirals are no longer spending as much time strategizing. No one is thinking tactically now. With one colony being destroyed almost every week, with the Armada stretched thin across our borders, and with our borders thinning and thinning with time, eve
ryone is throwing everything to stop the irrevocable advance of the Sonali.

  And the Sonali seem to realize that we are now desperate. They’re taking their time, mounting strategic attacks and destroying us one after the other. They aren’t pressing their advantage when one is created, because they outgun, outclass, and out power us more than three to one.

  The corporations that are rushing to produce more starships to meet up with the losses, but they can’t keep up.

  This isn’t what we signed up for. No, it isn’t. We didn’t sign up to be slaughtered by an aggressive race across the stars. Yes, we want to save the Terran Union. Yes, we will gladly give everything for the Union, but we can’t do so needlessly. We can’t keep sacrificing the lives of our officer and soldiers without cause.

  It’s one thing to give one’s life for the cause; it’s another thing to give one’s life for the cause when there’s a better option. Nevertheless, I realize the need to keep up with the war. Utmost care and caution need to be rendered to ensure that we are not rushing to hasten our destruction. As it is now, we are on the brink of loss.

  “I hear Command has reduced the number of months for new recruits to eighteen months,” Commander Chen says, with a disgusted expression on his face. “I wonder what they learn within two months. Our ships are now filled up with half-baked conscripts, a lot of whom have no discipline nor regard for the guiding principles that form the Armada.”

  “Do we still have guiding principles?” I say. Even though I try to hide it, my voice is thick with bitterness.

  They all look at me, impassive.

  I explain. “Our practices thus far have proven one thing. Peacetime laws are different from wartime laws. During peace, it’s not okay to bomb a colony. But during war, it’s okay to bomb colonies. We talk about the ruthlessness of the Sonali and the need to match ruthlessness with ruthlessness. The thing is, who started out on the path of ruthlessness?

  “I think the Sonali did,” Commander Chen replies. “They glassed our colonies first. In fact, they’ve been destroying our colonies for longer before we started returning the favor.”

  I shrug. “Still, if we are to remain moral, we have to remain moral all through. The truth is, the law signed by the President gives the Armada too much power. They’re basically operating without oversight. The captains have become gods.

  “In other words, our vessels have become prisons. We are forced to fight ten times more powerful than ours. We have changed. The Armada has changed.”

  There is silence.

  “And before you say we have to change to adapt,” I add, “let me say this. Not all changes are good. Some changes will leave you damaged forever. Let me ask you, folks, what happens when we win this war?

  “What happens? What would we become? What would other species think of us? Would they call us genocidal? Is that the legacy we want to leave for our children, one of wanton destruction of lives and properties? One of careless value for human life?”

  The question, spat out like machine gun fire, hang in the air.

  The officers don’t meet my gaze. But I can tell my words are having an impact upon their mind and conscience.

  I don’t consider myself to be an unruly officer. In fact, I have never been court-martialed, neither have I been disciplined for any form of disorderly conduct or breach of chain of command. However, the recent events in the Armada, especially the way the management is handling our officers out in the field makes me wonder if they really value us. If our admirals and fleet commanders don’t value our lives, then why should we trust them with our loyalty?

  Yes, we signed an oath of allegiance to the Terran Armada, but the Armada also signed an oath of allegiance to us. They have a responsibility to us not to play games with our lives. These are real people with families dying out there, while those admirals in their comfy offices in New Washington are making reckless decisions.

  “I agree with you, Craig,” says Commander Hadley. “Aside from the fact that it’s most probable that we are going to lose this damned war, we can’t keep fighting like terrorists. Just last week, my friend aboard the TUS Brandon sent me a message that they were being sent by Edoris Station, which is their command base, to lay waste to a series of colonies near the Sonali border.”

  “Isn’t TUS Brandon one of those Battle Class vessels the corporations are churning out a dime a dozen?” I ask.

  Hadley nods. “She told me she had troubles with the order. When she spoke with her captain about the reservation she was having about the instructions, she was arrested by the security team and confined to quarters.”

  “What?” Tadius exclaims. “That’s not lawful.”

  “Well, it is if the captain feels you are a rebel,” Hadley replies. “Apparently, the captain of the ship felt that her feeling of reservation was a conclusive proof of that.”

  “No, the protocol for officers expressing feelings of reservation,” I say, “is to evaluate their effectiveness regardless of their feelings. If it is found that they would not be able to carry out her job with her reservation, then she is removed from her post until such reservations are resolved. We don’t outrightly arrest them.”

  “Well, it is war,” Hadley says. “And apparently in war, everything goes.”

  “What would you do if you were asked to do something that went against all you hold dear?” I ask.

  Hadley doesn’t reply for a long time. Everyone looks at him, waiting for his response. I can tell that we are all likeminded. This war is unnecessary, and until there’s some form of revolt or revolution, the Armada and the Terran Union will continue giving orders that lead to more loss of lives.

  “Honestly, Craig, I don’t know what I’d do,” he says. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do if I’m told to do something that goes against everything I hold dear. I mean, I didn’t sign up to become someone else’s pawn. I understand about taking orders and chain of command and all of that. But…there’s a limit to what you can ask someone to do.”

  “I agree,” Chen says.

  The focus goes to Chen.

  “I mean, glassing a planet?” Chen says. “I don’t know. We’ve been fortunate not to have been sent on such a mission, being how small we are. But with our recent retrofit, we may soon be receiving orders to go after defenseless, harmless Sonali colonies to destroy them.”

  “Is it really necessary?” Hadley asks. He’s directing the question at me. “Is it really necessary to glass colonies? I understand the appeal to colonies with strategic or tactical military significance. I can easily overlook that one. But colonies that don’t have such significance? Colonies that don’t even have economic value? Colonies with people living on them?”

  “I think the idea is to make it hurt so much that the Sonali consider withdrawing,” I reply. “I don’t know how it works in the Sonali homeworld. Maybe if we can make a lot of trouble for them, their people will revolt against the government’s war policies and maybe…maybe they’d give up.”

  Hadley scowls. “That’s a big maybe, Craig, and you know it. But I guess the real question is, what would you do if something terrible is being asked of you?”

  “I don’t think I’d do it,” Tadius says, surprising everyone.

  Everyone has been coded about how they phrase their reply. However, it is obvious that they don’t like taking orders that violate the defining charter of the Armada. No one has, however, openly vocalized their intention to reject a direct order from a superior officer in the time of war. This is tantamount to mutiny, an event that is unheard of in the Terran Armada. And for it to come from a security officer, one who’s meant to ensure mutiny does not occur intrigues me.

  We all look at him for more explanation.

  “Hell, I didn’t sign up to kill innocent civilians,” he says. “Who are we kidding? We aren’t soldiers. We are explorers. The little experience we had with the Outers did nothing to prepare us for the Sonali. I’d rather be court-martialled than do something to violate the core of m
y personality.

  “My integrity is more important to me than my oath to the Armada.”

  We are yet to be asked to do something that will require this kind of commitment. However, I can feel it in my blood that it’s coming. When that time comes, I want to know that I’m not the only one who feels this way. I want to know that there are some people I can count on.

  “It’s not just about refusing to take an order,” I proceed. “It’s about doing all that’s necessary to stop the order from being executed, especially when the ship’s crew is at a risk of destruction.”

  I pause, watching as their eyes lit up with shock and turn to look at me. I’ve always been known as someone who isn’t afraid to say what needs to be said or do what needs to be done. I’ve always been known as someone who’s smart with the people I talk to. I chose to bond with these top officers because I’ve worked with them on other ships at different times in my fifteen-year career with the Armada.

  I know these guys like I know the back of my hand. I know they’d support whatever decision I make. I just need to make them see reason. What better place and time to make them see reason than a place where we’ll not be disturbed (ergo, the officer’s mess) and a time before their support is required (ergo, now).

  Now is the best chance I have, this I know as well as I know myself.

  No one says anything.

  “Guys, relax,” I say with a disarming smile. I sense the tension reduce a couple of notches.

  “I’m not suggesting anything illegal,” I say. “I’m just saying if the crew can’t think for itself, we need to think for it or help them think for themselves. Until someone speaks out, things may not change. Until someone takes action, nothing will change.

  “If we take action, you’d be surprised at how many people would respond in your favor,” I say. “And when the news spreads across the Armada, you’d be surprised of the cascading effect it would have.”

  “Jake, I’ve known you for ten years,” Tadius, the chief security officer says, “I’ve never known you to speak so…revolutionarily before. Is there something you have planned?” His eyes are suspicious.