A Faded Star

by Michael Freeport

  “Very well,” Coffee said. “Mister Stokes can you defend the system with thirty-nine percent of your expected order of battle?”

  “It's possible. We will have to use the planets as funnels to bring the crab forces into concentrations. It will mean allowing them to penetrate deeper into the system than our initial plans had called for. We'll also have to reposition the system defenses. It looks like they'll enter the system on an expected trajectory. With that piece of information, we can be ready for the crabs to hit us in a place we've prepared. The automated drone platforms and torpedo launchers have all been built and are ready to create a kill zone covering as much as twenty percent of the plane of the ecliptic. If the crabs come in on that vector, we'll give them a pounding they won't soon forget.

  “I suggest we withdraw all non-combatant ships outside the system with orders for independent operation should we be defeated here. I would also like to suggest we prepare a conditional evacuation of some portion of the populace. There's too much riding on our survival as a species to allow a single, inconveniently timed attack to wipe us out. The tugs can be retrofitted for civilian transport by the time the crab fleet shows up with no change to our final fleet composition. We simply won't build the ships that can't be fully crewed.”

  “How many civilians could we evacuate on the current transport ships?” Coffee asked.

  “One moment, sir. I have those numbers,” Misato said. After digging in his tablet for a few seconds, he said, “We can get about seven hundred thousand out, sir. That's if we convert all of the transport ships into maximum capacity evacuation ships. The Behemoth can carry five million, but it's a combat ship, and I hesitate to place civilians in the line of fire that way.”

  Coffee nodded and said, “I think we have no choice. We'll have to institute a way of deciding who goes and who stays. Do we have any suggestions?”

  Brand said, “People with critical skills and abilities should be placed on a priority list. The remaining space should probably be left to a lottery system. That should keep the inevitable civil unrest to a minimum.”

  Stokes said, “I'd suggest we give each person in our population a score. Some kind of viability quotient must be assigned. Once we have a system of ranking, we'll bring those aboard who meet the needs of a potentially surviving society. A lottery sounds great, but when only one in five people are able to come. The riots would be huge. There is no way we can possibly control eighty percent of our society if they all decide to riot at once. If we announce a lottery in advance, and then let everyone just wait, we won't get one in ten of the selectees to their designated ships. I think a quiet evacuation of previously selected individuals is the best choice.”

  Misato said, “I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the kind of social engineering that suggestion implies, Franklin. A lottery at least gives the chance for hope to each citizen.

  Brand said, “We have to make a decision. Here and now. We can't walk out of this room without a plan. Either of the suggestions is going to take weeks to implement.”

  Coffee said, “You're not wrong about that.” The big man sighed heavily. He leaned forward and placed his face in his hands, vigorously rubbing his eyes. “I wish I'd gotten more sleep before getting this news. The lottery has its merits, but I'm inclined to choose people with the strongest chance of reestablishing the human race, should it be required.”

  Stokes had a sudden insight and said, “Tell me this isn't history repeating itself. I don't doubt our ancestors sat around a similar table and wrestled with these same choices before our colony was established.”

  “I wonder how they chose,” Misato said, his voice was soft, barely more than a whisper.

  “We can't know,” Stokes said. “All we can do is make the best decision to continue the viability of our species.”

  The statement seemed to clinch the decision for Coffee, who said, “We have to go with Stokes' idea. It provides the strongest potential for us to go on.” He leaned back in his chair, his broad shoulders slumped forward.

  “Well, that's one decision made. Now, who gets put on the Behemoth?” Brand said.

  “Everyone who doesn't fit on the transports. Preferably, the people with the lowest evaluated scores out of those chosen to go,” Stokes said.

  “It's so cold to put it this way,” Misato said.

  “The calculus of war is nothing if not brutal in its imposition on those who are swept up in the conflict,” Coffee said. “Unfortunately, our choices have been largely taken from us. We must ensure the continuation of our species. I plan to give Commodore Erickson orders to withdraw the Behemoth should things look like they are going badly. I want those five million civilians to survive and join up with the non-combatants if Lashmere falls.”

  Stokes said, “I'll give the order, sir. Count on it.”

  Coffee said, “Mister Misato, I want you running constant updates on our combat projections. Mister Brand, I want you coordinating the current shipyard build rate. Take off enough time to get the transports retrofitted, loaded with their passengers and sent out of the system to wait for the outcome. Mister Stokes, concentrate on preparing your fleet. Coordinate with Mister Misato as he completes his new simulations.”

  The three admirals acknowledged their orders. Shortly thereafter, the meeting broke up. Despite the terrible turn of events, there was an air of hope about the men that, somehow, they would find a way to prevail. None of the men paid the slightest attention to the two Marine guards standing outside the conference room.

  Private Rick Callahan, a native of the Karn region looked over at his partner on guard duty and said, “I'll go check the room and make sure they didn't leave anything behind. The second marine private merely nodded, looking bored enough to fall asleep at his post. Callahan moved into the room purposefully and reached under the table, near the chair Coffee had sat at. There, a tiny recording device had been placed earlier that day by another Karn native. He pocketed the small device and went back out into the hallway, attempting to look as tired of standing his post as the Ebrim standing next to him.

  Asher Patho was forty-four years old. He was nineteen years older than his only sibling, Aden. The far younger man had almost certainly been an accidental conception, although his parents had never admitted to the fact. The vigorous calisthenics of Asher's younger days had given way to brisk walks and low impact exercise as he'd aged.

  His usual morning walk took him through a small park not far from the cafe where he'd met with his brother nearly a year ago. Although his mother had never mentioned it, she seemed unhappy about not seeing Aden that day. Asher had repeatedly told her that Aden was no Karn, and he wasn't to be trusted. As he walked along the path, he saw a rock, much like nearly all the others along the park pathways. This rock, in particular, had a bright blue mark on one side that was quite distinctive. As Asher walked by, he deftly flipped the rock over with the toe of his shoe. Another hundred meters along the path, he paused and sat on a bench next to the path he'd been walking along. He stretched and yawned expansively and then placed his hand on the arm of the bench. There, wedged in the curl at the end of the arm was a small cylindrical object. He plucked it out and pocketed it as he stood to continue along the path. The message had to be urgent. Most communications were handled by a much more remote dead drop. He'd been alerted this way only once before, to advise him of the success of the bombing at the Lashmere Naval Headquarters building. The rest of his walk was made in growing anticipation of what the cylinder might hold.

  He was sweating and breathing heavily when he made it back to the home he shared with his mother. She wasn't at home. She was at a community garden she enjoyed working on with some of their neighbors. He was alone.

  The tube held a small data chip. He plugged the chip into a tablet computer and waited as the contents were decompressed and copied to the internal storage. The message indicated it was an audio recording of a high level naval meeting. The contents were urgent and may require the network move with speed
to react to its contents.

  Over the next hour and a half, Asher listened to the meeting in its entirety twice. His mind worked furiously as he considered how to use this development to the best advantage of the Karn people.

  When Darlene Patho returned from her gardening, Asher took her and sat her down at a table in their basement. He pulled a small anti-eavesdropping device from his pocket and activated it. Seeing the recognition in his mother's eyes, he said, “I've gotten some incredibly important news, mother. The Navy has decided to ration a partial evacuation of people from this planet in the face of a nearly certain attack by the same aliens who invaded nearly a year ago. Not the alliance but the crab race.”

  Darlene folded her hands on top of the table. Her thin shoulders drew back, and a look of determination entered her vivid blue eyes. She said, “Asher, it's time to use the network we've so carefully put in place. What are the navy's plans for us?”

  “They plan to use a computer program to assign a numerical value to each citizen both Ebrim and Karn alike and then to force those they find worthy of saving onto evacuation ships to escape certain destruction at the hands of these crabs.”

  “This is completely unacceptable. We can assume the Ebrim will choose to take their own exclusively, in order to save themselves.”

  “The Karn Separatist Movement is ready to seize this opportunity.” Asher's eyes nearly glowed with fervor. “I know what we have to do.”

  “We're going to infiltrate the computer used to select people. We'll have the entire movement selected to go aboard this Behemoth ship. We will then seize it and use it to liberate the Karn people.”

  Chapter 14

  The weeks passed with a sense of growing anticipation of the coming battle. The crab fleet headed for Xalcek was going to arrive there more than a week ahead of the one headed to Lashmere. Fleet computers ran simulation after simulation, trying to squeeze every advantage from the available ships.

  The Behemoth was completed and fully crewed, albeit with mostly brand new officers and crew along with a full brigade of marines. Stokes watched the behemoth maneuver out of the space dock with hope finally taking root in his thoughts. The sheer size and potential firepower of the ship was enough to make him think that, despite the fact that there would be roughly two hundred ships protecting Lashmere against a thousand of the crab fleet, there was a real chance for victory. The Behemoth was so massive it was visible from thousands of kilometers away.

  Stokes worked to bring his fleet to a state of readiness that would allow them to survive against the crab fleet. The increases in response time and battle tactic improvements were continually layered into the simulations run by Admiral Misato. The board of admirals gathered to observe the sensor reports coming in from the Xalcek system on the day the crabs were expected to arrive.

  Admiral Coffee sat at the head of the briefing room table, watching the massive screen on the wall. Because the distance was more than three hundred light years, individual small ships like escorts weren't visible at all times. The range of the sensor array wasn't much more than three hundred light years for any kind of ship.

  Stokes entered the room behind the rest of the admirals. Brand and Misato were already in the room, along with Coffee. The men sat attentively, watching the crab force approaching the Xalcek system.

  Coffee asked, “Any predictions, gentlemen?”

  “The crabs will wipe the alliance out,” Misato said.

  Stokes shook his head. “No faith in their claim to a secret defense?”

  Misato shrugged dismissively. “None. From all the reports I've read, they're nearly pacifists. They probably don't have the will to assemble a truly devastating defensive weapon.”

  Stokes disagreed. The alliance had demonstrated they had a strong will to survive, and they seemed to have a strangely bizarre notion of morality. Despite their strange viewpoints, they had highly advanced technology and the ability to defend themselves. “I think the alliance may have been taken by surprise by the attack at their forward base. My thinking is that the Xalcek system might show a different story. I suspect part of the reason they were so adamant someone from the expeditionary force was in collusion with the crabs is that they were so soundly defeated and that the crabs arrived with little or no warning.”

  Admiral Brand spoke for the first time, “The alliance has similar long range sensor technology to what we use here. They knew the crab fleet was approaching. What they failed to consider was that the crabs would move directly against them. The alliance command structure demonstrated a rather shocking degree of hubris at every turn.”

  Coffee said, “The crab fleet is coming out of FTL right at the edge of the Xalcek system.” The assembled officers sat, watching the ships as they began maneuvering into an attack formation. The sensors began showing a heavy gravitational distortion at the center of the crab formation. The long range sensor array lost resolution for fifteen seconds, and when the image cleared, the entire crab fleet was gone. Gasps sounded around the table.

  “What happened,” Misato asked.

  “There was some kind of sensor glitch, and then the crab fleet vanished,” Brand said.

  “That was no sensor glitch,” Stokes said. “The alliance has the defensive technology they claim to have.”

  Brand said, “It doesn't make sense. Their supposed morality doesn't allow them to kill all those crabs.”

  Misato said, “They seem able to defend themselves. I don't think this is just some kind of trick. Those crabs are gone.”

  Coffee tapped the table gently with his knuckles to get everyones attention. “Gentlemen, focus, please. Since the alliance has made good on its claim that it can defend itself, we must presume they also have the ability to turn the crabs against us at they've claimed. I-” Coffee was interrupted by a chiming from the console resting on the table. He tapped the acceptance key and said, “Coffee.”

  “Sir, this is Lieutenant Weston. There's a massive update on the crab fleet approaching that we've been tracking.”

  “Send it over, Lieutenant,” Coffee said. He worked at the console for a moment and the screen updated to show the crab fleet. The formation had slowed to sublight speed. Ships were milling around in a chaotic fashion.

  Brand said, “Something's not right. That looks like too many ships.”

  “That's what the alliance did with the crab fleet. They sent them almost three hundred light years. There are two thousand crab ships nine days from here,” Stokes said.

  A heavy silence descended on the room. Coffee said, “What are we going to do? Do we have a chance of surviving against the entire crab fleet?”

  Misato said, “Not a chance, Admiral. Our chances are only about eighty percent against half their fleet. Against all of it? No way.”

  Stokes said, “We're going to have to figure out what the alliance did. I suggest we forward the sensor data to the Loki for analysis. Perhaps we can find a way to duplicate their defensive technology.”

  Brand's voice shook slightly when he said, “In a week? We can't possibly.” The man slumped forward in his chair and put his head in his hands.”

  Coffee said, “Get a grip, Admiral Brand. Mister Misato, the entire Navy is now on 12 hour rotations. I want us to be ready to enter combat at any moment. Mister Stokes, what's the training status of our current fleet lineup?”

  Stokes said, “We're at thirty-four percent of our originally intended fleet composition. If the crabs manage to concentrate their force against us, we have no chance against them. Our fleet will have to be made as mobile as possible. The only way to ensure the survival of humanity is if we can save the humans selected to be on the transports and the behemoth.”

  Coffee said, “A mobile force will leave Lashmere itself vulnerable. “If we won't stand and fight against the crab fleet, we can't protect Lashmere.”

  “The only way we can destroy the crab fleet is to not stand toe to toe with them,” Stokes said. “If our fleet tries, we lose everything.”


  Coffee said, “I need to brief the president. He'll have to approve the choices we're making today.”

  The admirals broke up and headed to their various duty stations. Stokes boarded a shuttle that took him up to the Victorious. When he got to his office, there was a waiting comm request. He punched the accept key and saw Aden Patho's face looking at him.

  “Commander Patho, what can I do for you?”?

  “Sir, I heard the crab fleet is now concentrated against us?”

  “How did you know that? I just got done with the briefing.”

  “I was at headquarters when the sensor information came in. I'm back aboard the Gorgon. That's what the Aeternum named my ship.”

  Stokes considered the situation for a moment before saying, “What's a gorgon?”

  “Some kind of mythical creature from Earth. I looked it up once I found out what the ship was named. I contacted you because I think there might be a way to help even the odds.”

  “I'm all ears, captain,” Stokes said.

  “I was looking at the way our forces are planning on deploying. The initial plans seem good, with the plan to funnel the crab force between planets and concentrate them where we can hit them with a massive torpedo barrage. What happens next, though, is that the crab force will almost certainly break up into four or five separate formations. Each of these formations won't be enough to destroy our fleet, but they will be large enough to hit Lashmere with overwhelming force.

  “I think we should use our advantage in mobility to outmaneuver the crab fleet as they move through the system. Engage the first, then the third, then the last groups. We'll leave the second and fourth groups alone, so they're forced to choose between defending their fleet and making a drive towards Lashmere. With luck, we can stop them short of Lashmere itself. I put together a rough plan and sent it over to Hal to chop before you take it over to Misato, sir.”