Sinking to the rack Jeff said just as quietly, “I get the feeling this has nothing to do with space pirates.”
James smiled at that. “Oh, those creeps are out there. But no, this has nothing to do with them. First off, all that crap they fed you in school about the Drac being decisively beaten? Forget it. It never happened.”
“So you’re saying they don’t exist?” Jeff asked incredulously. “That those conspiracy theorists had it right all along?
“No, they’re real all right. I almost soiled my flight suit the first time I ever saw a Drac toad out there. What I’m saying is there was never a battle of Groombridge. Not the way history remembers it anyway. The truth of the matter is they just pulled back for no reason that we can tell. Or that the people who might know aren’t telling.”
Jeff suppressed a perplexed laugh. “Why the hell would they want to keep that a secret?”
“To avoid panic? To create a false sense of security? If there’s one thing that governments have done throughout history is concoct bald faced lies to hide exactly how fubar a situation is. Everyone knows they’re full of shit. It’s just the extent to which that is the question.
“Think about the tripe that was fed the people leading up to the unification war. You had the climate people touting the dangers of fossil fuels. The producers arguing the steps they’ve taken to clean up their emissions. That by the time we got anywhere near running out of energy, better alternative sources would be readily available. People can argue about the validity of the science two-hundred years ago. But they can’t argue that greed and power stirred that cocktail. A string of lies fed over and over again by conflicting sources left people wondering exactly what to believe. The government of the old United States had its people believing we didn’t need to worry about fuel. They’d moved to clean energy. That manufacturing was something to be handled by lesser countries. That a service industry was sufficient to support their way of life. The US was a country driven by commerce and innovation they said.
“It’s the same concept here. To avoid mass panic and a potential uprising the Drac had to be soundly defeated. The truth of the matter is they never really went away. Sure things were quiet. Most of the time any encounter would be nothing more than passing blips on sensor screens. That all changed a few months ago.”
“No shit,” disbelief tinged Jeff’s voice. “But why all the secrecy here? Why the hiding in this room?”
“This is a shakedown cruise Knight. We need to evaluate each and every person freshly graduated from boot or the academy for their fitness to deal with this. Where we should place them. And why. If you’re not cut out for the rigors out here you’re sent home. If you can be trusted to keep your lips shut, you’ll be sent somewhere where you can be made use of. Not everyone’s cut out for combat. But nearly everyone that sets foot on these decks can have a part to play. So we beat the crap out of you until we’re sure you can take it or not. If you’re too risky you get your walking papers and will never be the wiser.”
“That’s some story,” Jeff said fishing out his cigarettes. Pulling one out, he offered the pack to James who waved dismissively at them. “So this all started a few months ago?” Jeff asked, the wheels turning in his brain. The timing sounded strikingly convenient.
“That’s when the shit storm hit yeah.”
Jeff blew out a blue-grey stream of smoke. “I suppose the next thing you’ll say is you weren’t out on a survey mission. That it was a military operation and my dad’s death wasn’t an accident but a calculated risk.”
“No, it was a survey mission. We were out by Gliese Four One Two. Something about checking some rock of a planets composition seeing if it would be suitable for mining. I don’t know, the damn place is remote as all fucking hell. Anyway, I was on the observation deck when it happened. The Tungsten was in high orbit and we had a smattering of escorts. The survey ship had just begun its descent. About five razors were flying cover for it when out of nowhere about ten Drac warships quickly jumped out of sup-loom. The survey team didn’t have a chance. Inside five minutes we lost them and two escorts. About the same time we began receiving reports that units all along the outer rim were under attack.
“The rest is kind of blurry. We were racing for the flight deck, the general-quarters siren shrieking the whole way, when we jumped back to the main flotilla. The fleet suffered terribly before we had even two flights out of the tubes.” James paused and visibly shuddered. “The way those toads move. Kind of…skimming. The worst part is the screaming. You’ll see a ship blow apart, but all you can hear is the agonizing cry of the poor bastard that just bought it.”
James grew silent and stared down at his beer can. He looked up when Jeff hissed dropping his cigarette. The cherry had burned down to his knuckle. Sucking on the burn he asked, “Do you know how my father died? I mean, the real reason. Not the official statement.”
“No idea. Casualty reports are considered private matters only available to family and those with clearance. I’m just a flight leader on this tub. What did they tell you?”
“They said it was a meteor collision. A rock about the size of a small car ripped through the hull. Tore everyone in the section apart. What was left got blown out into space. No possibility for retrieval.” Jeff reached into his pocket. “Captain Styles attended the service. He gave me an envelope. Inside I found a letter supposedly written by my father. And these.” Pulling his hand from his pocket he showed James the dog tags. Taking a deep breath he fought down the emotional pain. Through gritted teeth he asked, “Can you be straight with me. And explain how I could find these,” he shook his hand rattling the tags, “inside a letter written before he died. Or if Styles lied to my face and hid behind fucking political rules like a coward.”
James looked at him sternly. “I know you’re emotional Knight. I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be if our situations were reversed. But it doesn’t give you the right to besmirch a man’s name. Gunther Styles is a model officer and so far as I know by no means a coward.”
Jeff relaxed his fist. He didn’t even notice it tensing up. “Yeah. Yeah you’re right. I’m sorry Skid. It’s just with this news and the convenient timing,” he sighed. “I just don’t know what to believe anymore.”
James smiled at him. “That’s all right. And honestly not very surprising. Things will start falling into place.” Throwing back his head James drained the remainder of his can. Tossing it in the recycle bin he stood up. “I think that’s enough secrets for one day. Get some rest and report to the flight deck at zero-six-hundred. We’ve got a lot to go over before we make the jump to the outer rim and Sunshine wants everyone drilled harder than a cheap floosy in a whorehouse.”
“Thanks Skid,” Jeff said climbing to his feet. “You’ve put some things in perspective for me.” James patted him on the shoulder and turned to leave. Pausing at the hatch he looked back. “For what it’s worth, if that story they fed you, about your father and all, isn’t the truth. Well, I think it’s kind of shady if they don’t fess up once you’re vetted.” Stepping from the room the hatch hissed closed leaving Jeff to quietly reflect on the coming months. He’d find out soon enough that no amount of training can ever prepare you for the real thing.
INTERLUDE:
A LETTER TO HOME
Dear Mom,
I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to write. Even on a ship this big junior officers don’t have ready access to a communications terminal. The waiting list is a kilometer long, ha ha. But that’ll be different now. I’ve just recently been promoted to lieutenant and now have a private cabin and my own console. Still have to share a latrine with half the crew but it’s nice to have some personal space. Hopefully I’ll have clearance for video transmissions soon. Skid said, “don’t bet on it,” but I’m holding out hope.
Oh, Skid’s my division leader, Lieutenant James Argo. I’ve been assigned to his flight with the Diamondbacks. He’s a pretty laid back guy. Made me feel right at home from the m
oment I met him on the shuttle the day I left. The last few months have been exhausting leaving me with little free time to do anything more than catch up on sleep. But he’s been there every step of the way. Not letting me give up and pushing me to be the best I can be.
He’s a far cry from Lieutenant Commander Simmons our squadron leader. He’s called Sunshine and is kind of a hard-ass. Ironic right? It might be due to some of the trouble me and another pilot named Joanne have gotten into. More about her later. He called me unprofessional the other day when we vented Skid’s cabin. Totally worth it by the way. What you do is make sure nobody’s in the room then cut off the life-support draining all the air out. It makes a loud bang when they open the door and blows everything around. It’s completely harmless and I’m told it’s an honored tradition. Made me clean the mess up, standing over me like some kind of warden, but I swear I saw him fighting a smile over it. Underneath that gruff exterior is a good man. I’m sure of it.
Getting back to Joanne, she’s the one who turned me on to venting Skid’s cabin. We call her Apple. It’s short for Apple Bottom, and the story for that name is the reason she did it. I’m not going into details on that. Skid let the story slip to me and she found out. It’s a little embarrassing so I’ll leave it at that. She thought Skid deserved the treatment for letting her secret slip. What she failed to tell me is just how much of a mess venting someone’s cabin makes. Just said it makes a loud bang and is hysterical. I’m going to have to think long and hard about what to do to her for that.
Anyway, I’ve got to cut this short. I have drills in about 20 minutes and need to get down to the flight deck. We’ll be jumping to the outer rim in a few weeks and the navy is busy weeding out everyone on the ship that can’t cut it. Give my love to RJ and Alex and I’ll write again soon. Can’t wait to hear about things back home.
Love,
Jeff
CHAPTER 6:
SORTIE
“All decks stand ready for SLD jump in T-minus five minutes,” the ships PA announced. Leaning idly against a handrail on Tungsten’s observation deck Jeff peered through the encompassing view port anticipating his first experience of superluminal, or sup-loom for brevity, speed. The months of rigorous drilling had finally subsided leaving Jeff battered, bruised, and one of the few who’d graduated the arduously accelerated training program on his first pass. The others would get their second chance, or shunted to a traditional course back on Earth. That is if they hadn’t already been handed their walking papers or shuffled off to some out of the way assignment. He pushed the thought away. The idea of coming so close to your dream only to have it slip away was depressing. And depressing thoughts would sour the experience of his first front row seat of faster than light travel.
Slowly a slight vibration began picking up in the deck plates. It was subtle at first. More of a vague sensation easily dismissed. It didn’t even register to Jeff until the ever present hum of the ships massive engines revved up to a low rumble. His fingers tingled, gripping the now buzzing handrail as the superluminal drive prepared to fling the ship to incredible speeds. The experience was exhilarating. A strange mix of euphoria and nausea filling one’s head as the space outside the viewport seemingly began to stretch. In an instant, like a rubber band snapping, the ship shot forth, propelled to an immeasurable speed in a matter of seconds. Those new to the experience routinely emptied they stomach’s, much to the chagrin of those assigned custodial duties that day. A boat full of fresh sailors such as the Tungsten would be kept very busy for some time. Exiting the jump was nearly as jarring, eliciting an unnatural sensation of falling from a great height. Palms sweating, Jeff braced himself against the handrail in anticipation of a sudden stop that would never come. Though the entire process lasted a fraction of a minute, physical symptoms of feeling drained of vitality or dizzy spells, could last hours for the uninitiated.
Jeff shook his head briefly trying to clear his vision. The rigors of constant flight training had done much to alleviate the brunt of the physical symptoms. Taking a couple deep breaths to calm his stomach Jeff focused his mind. It’s no worse than motion sickness. No worse than your first high G roll, he repeated to himself. Reasonably satisfied he wasn’t going to vomit Jeff opened his eyes.
James, wearing a grin that split his face in two, leaned casually on the handrail next to him. “Welcome to the outer rim kid,” he said not even attempting to suppress a small chuckle.
Swallowing the hint of bile that crept into the back of his throat Jeff turned his gaze out the viewport. Floating silently in the inky black vacuum before him the myriad shapes of the First Cosmic Fleet gathered. The vision on the other side of the reinforced bowel of the observation deck viewport lazily rotated. The Tungsten was turning on its axis, aligning itself to the imagined horizon and orienting itself to the rest of the massive vessels. A wing of guard fighters swopped past the tower arranging themselves into an escort formation while a pair of squat heavy cruisers fell in on either side cocooning the carrier in a pocket of titanium and massive cannons.
As the Tungsten slowly moved into the fleets bowels a flurry of activity from fighters and maintenance craft danced about the interstellar flotilla. It was an impressive display of Earths military might. As the ship crept ever closer to the seemingly packed expanse details began to emerge under the soft glow of the running lights. Large scorch marks marred the hulls of many of the craft, evidence of the mortality of the seemingly impenetrable armored giants. It was a stark reminder of the atrocities the Drac bore down upon humanity, belying the strength Earths military, and punctuating the seriousness of the situation. The Tungsten delicately maneuvered through the sea of metal. Past frigates, corvettes, a jumbled array of more ships that Jeff had ever seen assembled in one place. The guard fighters broke formation drawing his attention. Moving with a deadly grace they corkscrewed amongst each other and rapidly descended on the largest ship he had ever seen.
Bristling with as much firepower as any of the heavy cruisers dotting the fleet the gargantuan vessel dwarfed every other craft in eyeshot. To say she was big would be to call the RMS Titanic of Earth’s history a dingy. The massive cannons angling over her bow looked large enough to fill Tungsten’s main hanger and half her engine room while the squat command tower gave the air of looking down on the entirety of the fleet like some giant mother bear protecting her cubs. Massive, powerful, and elegant, wrapped in a dark titanium hull, the ship commanded respect. Leaning over towards James Jeff asked breathily, “Is that the Victoria?”
“Yes sir it is,” he said. “The UES Victoria. CVAN twenty-two hundred Nebula Class Super Carrier.” Adding in a reverent almost whisper James said, “The pride of the fleet.”
“Not half as impressive as her skipper,” Simmons grunted stepping up to the rail. “The man flatly refuses promotions to stay at the helm of that ship. Styles is the heart of the UECN. And the Victoria is his chariot.”
“That was deep Commander,” Jeff said shifting his weight. “It reminds me of Constantine. ‘In this sign shalt thou conquer.’ ”
“Is that another one of Swany’s sayings?” James asked.
“No. My Dad said it once. He was talking to someone from the naval base in his office. We weren’t supposed to eavesdrop, and I wasn’t, just caught it as I passed by.” Jeff propped himself up on his elbows lacing his fingers under his chin. “I asked him about it later that day. It sounded so ominous I had to know. He told me the ancient Emperor Constantine had a vision and used it as a symbol to rally his army. The way both of you talk about Captain Styles, and his ship. It felt like you attribute them both to that same vision.”
The brief hush fell across the three men when Jeff was done talking. The air seemed to carry the weight of his words. As did the general-quarters klaxon that soon followed. “Well that didn’t take long,” James half shouted to be heard over the siren. “Let’s hope your vision leads us to victory Knight.”
In a flash the three men were racing for the nearest elevator
. The flight deck was over twenty levels below and even though the Diamondbacks were not on alert status, speed was of the essence and their prompt presence essential. “So what should we be expecting?” Jeff asked.
“Not much,” Simmons laughed. “Most likely we’ll be cooling our heals on the flight deck. The Wildcats are already out. Jammer always insists on having his top guns in the air when entering a potential hot zone.”
James skidded to a halt ahead of them and began jabbing the lifts call button. “Jeez Sunshine,” he quipped, “you make it sound like we’re missing out on all the fun.”
“Dodging Drac energy piss isn’t my idea of fun Skid.”
James groaned, “Must you always be so fucking literal?” as a gaggle of fellow personnel pushed in from behind the three. Four, five, six people shoved themselves into the car behind them when the doors hissed open. Someone near the front was hastily jabbing the door close button making a ratcheting sound that echoed over the grunts and jostling. Eventually the elevator, as if it were alive, groaned to comply with the command and began its descent towards the flight deck.
“At any rate,” Jeff said sarcastically, “I hope the Drac aren’t anything like fighting for an elevator.” The comment earned a few chuckles.
“The odds of you seeing any action are slim and none,” Simmons grunted. “If the Diamondbacks are scrambled Gamma and Delta Flights will hang back and cover the Tungsten.” Jostling some people Simmons turned and shot Jeff are hard look. “You’ll get your chance kid, but today, just keep our lady safe.”
Jeff spent the rest of the ride in silence mentally wondering what to expect. The elevator came to a lurching halt jarring him from the brief moment of contemplation. When the doors hissed open the party of pilots and crewmen poured into the hall in an avalanche of human flesh. Moving with purpose every soul about him quickly found their way to their stations. In the locker room boasts and jokes were bantered about. Jeff allowed the commotion to wash over him. A tempest of emotion swept through him as he reviewed his months of training. The prospect of combat was a frightening thought. Feeling a little jittery he joined in the bravado trading some verbal spars with his crewmates. It helped a little.
In the Blink of an Eye Page 6
