Threshold of Victory

by Stephen J. Orion

  “But we can’t take this power from him,” Walters pointed out. “So he has to learn the responsibility that goes with it.”

  “Agreed,” Pierman said, folding his pages and placing them back into the envelope. “At the very least, he’s a source of intelligence that we can’t afford to ignore. Lieutenant Walters, you’re dismissed. Commander Jenson, let us return to the CIC and see what the esteemed Sergeant has to say about our current situation.”

  ****

  Predictably Tarek was waiting for the two senior officers at the security gate to the CIC when they arrived.

  “Welcome to the CIC, Flight Sergeant,” Captain Pierman said as he cleared them through security and then led the way towards the planning island at the centre of the room. “I’m certain it lives up to your expectations.”

  “Of course,” Tarek answered as they reached the holodeck, ignoring a scowl from Richter. “I imagine your first question is, what will happen next?”

  “I believe that is the traditional query for a fortune teller. Have at it, Mr. Tarek.”

  “Our enemy are launching one last attack to prevent us from using the gateship. A flight of thirty-six long-range nuclear missiles is on it’s way, and will be arriving within the next half hour.”

  “Impossible,” Jenson scoffed. “The Maulers don’t use long range missiles,”

  Tarek opened his mouth to speak, but Pierman held up a hand and turned to face Jenson. “You’re free to leave the room at any time, Commander.”

  Jenson’s mouth worked, but no words came out, finally he stood to attention, snapped a salute and left the CIC.

  Pierman turned his gaze back to the pilot. “You were saying, Flight Sergeant?”

  “Well you don’t have to take this one on faith, that many missiles can be detected by the Arcadia’s long range scanners. The only reason you haven’t spotted them is because they’re being vectored in from directly above.”

  The Captain touched a button on the holo-stage projector, “Helm, roll one-eighty.”

  “Roll one-eighty, aye,” came the response from the console.

  Tarek wouldn’t have even guessed that the ship was moving, but a number of screens in the holographic walls displayed the Arcadia and its orientation. As the rotation continued there was a short but violent buzz of a contact alarm, and one of the screens switched to display the approaching signatures, at this point identified only as a ‘unknown cluster moving under power’.

  “Comms, please link in Commander Lyle,” Pierman said as he moved the holo of the approaching missiles to main holo-stage with a small hand gesture.

  Tarek didn’t interject, he knew, of course, everything Commander Lyle would say, but he’d rocked the boat enough. Making the Captain feel further isolated from his command staff would cost him more time than trying to fill for them would gain. Instead he picked up a data slate and began sketching out some details. After a minute or two the Commander’s image appeared over the corner of the holo-stage.

  “This is some distressing news you’ve sent me, Captain,” Lyle said, his voice distorted by his pressure suits mics.

  “Those missiles are still fairly far off,” Richter offered. “Could we not simply move away from them.”

  “That depends,” Pierman asked. “Commander, do you have flight control on the gateship yet?”

  “I’m afraid not,” the Commander responded, “I think we’re getting closer but… perhaps not close enough to escape from those missiles.”

  “I can tell you that they won’t be ready in time,” Tarek said looking up from his pad. “I have put together some notes that should help things go more quickly, but you’re still looking at twenty-minutes’ work.”

  “Ensign Kaiden,” Pierman called and a moment later a junior officer materialised. “Sergeant, please leave your data with the ensign, he will transfer it to the gateship.”

  With a nod of thanks Tarek passed the data slate off.

  “Assuming those missiles are anything like ours,” Commander Lyle said, “and I have a bad feeling they’re nearly identical, twenty minutes is too long. By that time, they’ll be close enough to track us directly, and we won’t be able to escape into the planet’s shadow.”

  “Unless we go somewhere they can’t follow,” Tarek suggested.

  “You’re recommending we use the gate?”

  “I’m suggesting we go right to the source of the problem. Included in the data being beamed to you right now is the address for the gate at the real Mauler home world. It is barely defended, and if we don’t strike now, it will never be in our reach again.”

  “Would you expand on ‘barely defended’ for me,” Pierman asked.

  “Three Mauler destroyers are orbiting the planet but one will be on the far side when we arrive. Each has a dozen fighters escorting it.”

  There was silence for several moments while the officers mulled it over. Finally Pierman said, “Too much to tackle head on, but using the gateship has potential. Do you have any other addresses, Sergeant?”

  “Don’t you think they’re working right now to lock the ship we’ve captured out of their gate network? I’m not giving you another address, we do this now.”

  Richter opened his mouth to say something but the Captain forestalled him with an open-handed gesture.

  “Sergeant Tarek, a walk if you please,” he said, stepping off the command stage. “Lieutenant Commander Richter, you have the watch.”

  Tarek followed the Captain onto the walkway that connected the raised officer’s platform to the security gate but he said nothing.

  “I’m surprised we’re having this conversation,” Pierman said once they were out of earshot of others. “Since you must already know what I’m going to say.”

  “Maybe,” Tarek answered, “maybe knowing something will change you, isn’t the same as being changed by it.”

  “Sound reasoning,” the Captain stopped about midway along the platform and turned to face Tarek directly. “Reasoning that does not seem to echo the man who pulled a gun last time he was in my office.”

  The pilot held his ground. “I did what was necessary to get us here.”

  “You wielded power to get an outcome,” he corrected. “And as you so brashly demonstrated, it was so much power that no one on this ship could stop you.

  “At the time, you spoke of us being afraid of the extent of your power, of its unusual nature, but evidently seeing the future does not allow you to see into men’s hearts.”

  “You were afraid,” Tarek reaffirmed.

  “Undeniably. I still am, but it is not your specific power I find troubling. The Constellation has plenty enough individuals who wield power greater than mine, and while none are prophets, certainly some have obscure means.” Pierman put his hands behind his back as he spoke, standing next to the rail but never actually leaning against it. “Let’s talk about me for a moment, my power. All that I command comes from my rank, my superiors in the Admiralty, and ultimately from the Council of Peers that all people of the Constellation have entrusted to lead them.”

  “A very traditional power structure,” the pilot observed dryly.

  “For a reason. You see the problem with Andrew Tarek is that his strength came from none of those places. You did not receive your abilities little by little, no one monitored your conduct along the way. You are simply and suddenly here, and you demand we must follow you because you are powerful.”

  “I understand your position, but this is not a power like conjuring lightning or bringing forth hordes of soldiers. I can see the future, I know exactly what we need to do.”

  “No,” Pierman corrected sharply. “Those are the words of a tyrant. You know exactly what we can do, and that is all the difference in the world.”

  “I can end this war,” Tarek urged, his voice carrying far enough to attract some glances from the crew pit. “Faster and with fewer losses.”

  “Which?”

  “What?”

  “Which is it: faster, or
with fewer lives lost. The path with the fewest deaths is not the fastest, I can foresee that, even without your powers.”

  “I guess that would depend.” Tarek looked back towards the command stage where the others were engaged in a spirited discussion of their own.

  “It would,” said Pierman, “on your judgements, on your decisions. After all, Tarek keeps his own council.”

  “Of course, I do, I can see the exact effects of the decisions I make.”

  “Does that matter? Richter’s men picked up a pair of Exodites in the medicentre who lost their nerve. I could have them tortured, revealing all manner of secrets, that is an effect of the decision that I can see, but it’s irrelevant. The Constellation wants for nothing that can be obtained through such means, so it matters little, how certain I am that the information would be valuable.”

  “What if not having it meant we would lose the war?”

  “Then we would lose the war,” Pierman said firmly. “The choice you’ve described is to die as ourselves or to become the evil we set out to destroy. Since we would effectively cease to exist in either case, it is nobler by far to die.” Pierman sighed. “Of course it is not always so easy. Imagine you can nuke a city that’s occupied by both Maulers and Constellation Citizens, as the percentage of Maulers goes up and the humans down, it becomes an ever more legitimate target. It’s a sliding scale and never a simple one.”

  “And you think it’s not my right to decide but yours?”

  “In point of fact, it is the Constellation’s. I have learned over the decades to make the right calls from leaders, and colleagues, and punishment for failure. I know I am responsible for any call I make, that I might pay for it with my life, even if the ultimate outcome is good.”

  “Okay, so you can’t teach me Constellation morality without a quarter century we don’t have, and I can’t walk you through every possible future,” Tarek said. “So where does that leave us?”

  “We work together. We must articulate our positions and be open to compromise rather than trying to act as the sole tiller on a ship with two rudders.”

  “Are you offering me co-captaincy?”

  “No, Tarek. I’m acknowledging that you already have it. This may be the most unconventional ship in the Constellation, but we’re in too important a place to war with each other. One mutiny has been quite enough.”

  “Alright, but compromise goes both ways. Believe me when I tell you that we must go through this gate or we will never get another opportunity.”

  “This crew, including yourself, have been awake for over twenty-four hours, most of them spent dealing with one crisis or another. I have no doubt that the future you see where we attack the Mauler home world will see the Arcadia and her air wing all but ruined in their victory. We need a third alternative.”

  Tarek agreed, and in that agreement the shape of his true want shifted, a process that gave him a whole different deck of cards to choose from.

  Even as Tarek reached for the new card, the Captain spoke the shape it would hold.

  “Can we use the gate twice? Jump to the Mauler home world and then jump to a hidden location that remains in striking distance?”

  Tarek smiled. “We absolutely can, sir.”

  ****

  Phillips had to face the reality that whatever was left of the Undying would very soon be going into battle without him. His injuries left him confined to the medicentre for observation, but even if they’d let him out, he was in no condition to fly. He knew it. He’d known it when he protested to the doctors, but if even one of his pilots died on that mission well… well it would be one more of them he’d betrayed and abandoned.

  It didn’t help that he was just down the hall from Kelly. Besides Phillips and those who’d been flying CAP, she was the only survivor of the Undying, and the doctors gave her a negligible chance of recovery. Even from his own room, he could feel her presence through the walls. She was a gathering point for the accusing ghosts of her comrades, and he could barely stand it.

  “Call for you, sir,” a nurse said, entering the room and passing him a small comm unit. “Lieutenant Hanagan.”

  Phillips took the comm, but he waited for the nurse to leave again before opening the line. “Softball.”

  “Commander,” the other replied and then let the air waves run silent until the squadron leader thought perhaps the connection had been lost. “I heard about what happened… to the others.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” another heavy pause filled the comm line. “Why’d you do it, Aristide?”

  “There’s no justification that you’ll want to hear.”

  “Maybe not, but eight of us are dead, probably nine soon. I need to hear it, even if I don’t believe it.”

  “Okay,” he sighed. “Adai called me out once, more than once actually, tried to get me to admit that I valued her more than the rest of the command. I always did, you know? But I could never say it to her. I was given a choice… a false choice, of her life in exchange for… well you know how it turned out.”

  Hannagan didn’t reply.

  Phillips wanted to wait the pilot out, but somehow the silence ate away at him more than any accusation could have. “Say something,” he said finally, almost pleading.

  “I think you did the right thing,”

  “You can’t really mean that.”

  “Oh I’m mad at you. I may always be mad at you and, for the record, that decision makes you the worst kind of commander.”

  “I know.”

  “But no one was born to be a squadron leader, not even you with your tampered genes. Even fewer people are able to love so deeply that they would…” Hanagan trailed off. “I wish Ucoo could have lived to earn it.”

  But she had. If Hanagan didn’t know yet, he soon would. Leaked security footage had seen Ucoo’s stand against her own people, had seen the critical alert she’d raised and the price it had cost her. More than anyone, her actions had probably saved the ship and she deserved a hell of a lot more than his late and misguided attempt at a rescue.

  “You’ll probably be fairly alone in your assessment of me.”

  “Someone has to have your wing, Chief.”

  “Just make sure someone has yours. Where are you anyway?”

  “Just doing a rapid refuel, then we’re launching again and flying right into the heart of Mauler country. Sounds like it might get pretty hairy for a bit, wish you were here.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Well maybe not, but I will when the shooting starts. In the meantime, I could use any advice you have.”

  Phillips closed his eyes. “You know I’d normally say to stick to the basics, be careful and watch each others’ backs.”

  “That’s the normal line.”

  “Well six pilots doesn’t make a squadron. What you’re leading will probably be the last flight of the Undying, so… be bold.”

  “I will,” he promised. “For Kelly and Adai and every single one of the rest.”

  “Till all others fall.”

  ****

  In many ways, Tarek was dreading his trip to the hangar deck more than he was dreading the battle that would follow it. He knew the battle would pan out according to his wishes, but between stepping out of the elevator and climbing into a fighter there was no future where he didn’t run across ensign Velta.

  Once so young and vibrant and now completely broken by what he’d put her through. She was a reminder of the price he was choosing for the crew of the Arcadia. The volume of lives he had saved seemed to only carry weight when people like Velta weren’t around.

  Keeping his face, a set mask, he stepped out of the lift and headed down the corridor onto the hangar deck. Beyond he could see the Cold Sabres getting prepped and loaded into the launch racks to join the Undying who had just completed their fuel stop. Deck hands rushed back and forth as he emerged onto the hangar, and Velta would come at him from the right.

  But she didn’t.

 
; And not for the first time, Tarek felt the cards he’d been holding onto scatter into the temporal winds. Suddenly dangerously close to panic, he scanned the hangar quickly and spotted the ensign, seated on the bottom of the gantry stairs with a steaming mug in her hands and chatting to the crew of the Warhorse. She didn’t look unscarred but she didn’t look manic either – she was calm, steady and even laughing occasionally.

  There was only one thing that could have led to that play of events, and he heard her before he spotted her.

  “Flight Sergeant Tarek,” Rease’s voice called out as she approached with her usual boldness. “I see you found a way out of your cell.”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I guess I just popped over to have you yell at me,” she shot back. “Either that or I came to save your damn ship from the Exodites.”

  “Who asked you to do that?” Tarek snapped, pushing past her and racing towards his fighter, pulling on his helmet as he did so.

  He put distance between them as quickly as he could. He didn’t want to be mad at her; she was trying to help, but she couldn’t know that the damage that she alone could cause. They had a tenuous victory, and she could destroy it.

  He reached the Undying’s alcove and made his way straight towards Phillips’ Sabrecat, trying hard to ignore the eight Snowhawks that sat like ghosts on the deck. He’d chosen the Sabrecat for two reasons, the obvious one was that it was faster and more powerful; the other reason was that Phillips was alive, and he wouldn’t have to see the little echoes of a lost comrade in the cockpit with him. That had been hard enough with Kelly’s fighter when she was still alive.

  He scaled the ladder quickly and pulled himself into the contoured seat. As he went through the pre-flight checks with one of the ground crew, he sought out another card and was relieved to find one that would get them through. It wasn’t perfect, but as his eyes caught sight of Velta again, he reminded himself that, though she lacked subtly, the Wolf-Lieutenant took things and made them better.