by Ryk Brown
“Isn’t it all on Corinair?” Loki argued. “The Jung, remember?”
“No one keeps all their wealth in one spot, Loki,” Deliza said dismissively.
“I wouldn’t know,” Loki said with a wry smile. “I’m just a corporate shuttle pilot, remember?”
“Maybe, but I think I need to give you a raise after today.”
“Or at least combat pay,” Loki joked.
* * *
Captain Tuplo walked up the Seiiki’s cargo ramp, a scowl on his face.
“Things went well, I take it?” Marcus greeted him from the top of the ramp.
“Could’ve gone worse, I suppose.”
“How much are we left with?”
“Before or after the repairs?” the captain asked as he topped the ramp. He looked at Dalen, who was climbing out of the port crawlway hatch. “How bad?”
“We lost all the shield emitters on the port side, and the main port power bus is pretty much fried as well.”
“Can we fly on the secondaries?” the captain asked.
“We can, but why would we?” Dalen wondered.
“I got us another run.”
“Cap’n,” Marcus interrupted, “maybe we should stay here a few days… Wait and see how things shake out in the cluster?”
“We can’t afford the port fees here,” Captain Tuplo explained. “Between the emitters, the power bus, and that hole in the hull, we’ll be out of money in just one day here. Besides, we need the extra money if we’re going to make repairs.”
“Cap, I haven’t even looked at the starboard side, yet,” Dalen warned.
“Assuming the starboard side is no worse off than the port, can we make it to Haven as we are?”
“Fuck, not Haven again,” Marcus groaned.
“What the hell is it with you and Haven?” Dalen asked Marcus.
“Can we make it or not?” the captain asked again in a more demanding tone.
“Assuming the starboard side is good, then yes. But would you mind if I looked around in there as well before we take off?”
“Make it quick,” the captain ordered as he headed forward. “Cargo is on its way.”
“You took a run without knowing if we could get off the ground safely?” Dalen exclaimed, shocked at the captain’s recklessness.
“Everyone’s in a panic,” the captain said. “They’re afraid to move any cargo for fear the Jung will take it and their insurance won’t cover the loss. If I hadn’t taken the run, this ship would be impounded in a few days and we’d all be on the streets.” Captain Tuplo reached the top of the forward ladder, then turned back to face Dalen and Marcus. “Besides, I have faith in your mechanical skills, Dalen.”
Marcus and Dalen watched as the captain disappeared through the forward hatch into the passenger compartment. A horn beeped from outside, and they both turned around to see a cargo hauler backing up to their cargo ramp.
“You best get your ass in the starboard crawlway, boy.”
“Yeah,” Dalen sighed. “Just don’t load that shit in front of the hatch and block me in.”
Marcus smiled. The thought had crossed his mind.
* * *
“Mister President,” Admiral Galiardi greeted over the secure vid-link to President Scott’s office.
“Admiral.”
“I’m afraid matters have gotten worse, sir,” the admiral began. “Although the Aurora was able to turn away the ships bound for Mu Cassiopeiae, both the Tanna and the Belem were forced to return fire and destroy the targets.”
“How many Jung ships were destroyed?”
“Two in total,” the admiral replied. “One cruiser, and one frigate.”
President Scott sighed. “How many men?”
“Two to three hundred, combined. Furthermore, we’ve detected ships approaching the Alpha Centauri system.”
“How many?”
“A battleship, a cruiser, and four frigates,” the admiral answered. “We’ve dispatched the Cape Town to the Alpha Centauri system…”
“I thought the Cape Town was still in trials?” the president interrupted. “Is she ready for action?”
“No, sir, she is not. She is armed and can defend herself, and we needed to get some presence in the system. The Aurora is on her way there as well, but will not get there for fourteen hours. The Cape Town has been ordered to shadow the Jung ships and remain out of range until the Aurora arrives. We’re also moving the Cayene, the Bristol, and the Nagoya to the Alpha Centauri system as well, in case the Jung decide to stand and fight.”
“Do you really think they will do so?”
“At least two of their ships have chosen to do so thus far,” the admiral reminded him. “It’s possible that those other encounters were meant to pull our forces away from Sol, in order to get another force through our defenses. Although, I would expect the force headed for us to be much larger.”
“How the hell did they get so deep into our territory without being detected?” the president asked.
“If you run the numbers based on known Jung FTL speeds for both ships and comm-drones, it is possible for all of these ships to have been launched after our initial attack on the Jung homeworld, and still have enough time to carefully sneak their way around our patrols. It would take an incredibly well planned, and well coordinated effort on the part of the Jung, but it is possible.”
President Scott closed his eyes a moment, rubbing his face. They had accomplished so much over the last seven years. They had brought the Earth back from the brink of another dark age, one that would have rivaled the great bio-digital plague of the twenty-fifth century that had swept over the entire core and sent millions fleeing to the stars. They had finally built up their defenses to the point where they had begun to feel safe again. And now, the Jung were at their doorstep once more. Again, the Jung were threatening to destroy not only Earth, but all of the Alliance worlds. “Recommendations?” the president asked, dreading the admiral’s response.
“I recommend we move to defense condition two,” the admiral replied without hesitation.
“Daily strike cycles.” The president sighed again. “Are you sure that’s wise? I mean, if even one of those ships fails to receive a launch cancellation order…”
“That is the way the system was designed, Mister President,” the admiral reminded him. “And we do use three jump comm-drones for every cancellation order.”
“I know,” the president said. “Very well, Admiral.”
“I need to hear the words, Mister President,” the admiral prompted him.
President Scott straightened up, looking directly at the vid-link screen. “I authorize defense condition two.”
“Authorization code?”
“One bravo, seven five four, foxtrot alpha, two zero one seven nine, lima tango.”
Admiral Galiardi looked toward someone off screen for a moment, then turned back to the camera. “Authorization code confirmed. All Alliance forces are now at defense condition two, Mister President.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” the president replied. He switched off the vid-link. “Thank you for taking us one step closer to annihilation,” the president added darkly after the link ended and the view screen turned off.
“Don’t look at it that way,” his daughter said, stepping forward from the side of the room where she had stood to remain out of the vid-link’s view. “It’s just another layer of assurance.”
“It won’t change anything,” the president said, “especially since the Jung don’t even know about the change.” He turned to look at Miri. “At some point, we’re going to have to meet with Ambassador Delhay.”
“To what end?” Miri wondered. “You know he’ll deny any knowledge of those ships.”
“Perhaps we should try to open up direct lines of communication with the Jung homeworld.”
“The cease-fire dictates that all communications between the Alliance and the Jung must be through the Jung ambassador…”
“Who will no doubt re
sist such direct contact as it reduces the power of his position,” the president added.
“We must honor that agreement,” Miri reminded her father.
“They have violated our space and fired upon our ships,” the president replied. “If they are not going to honor that agreement, then why should we?”
“Because Nathan died to give us a chance for peace,” Miri replied. “It is up to us to maintain it. If we do not, then my brother…your son, will have died in vain.”
* * *
Travon Dumar sat in his living room with his wife. They both had their eyes glued to the view screen on the wall. The invaders had already shut down Corinairan news. Luckily, the planetary network itself was nearly impossible to turn off. It had too many redundancies, including satellite and radio segments. Short of setting off a series of strategically placed, electromagnetic pulses, it would be operational for at least a few days, if not longer.
Now, all they could see were random recordings from personal comm-units, uploaded by Corinairans from all over the planet. They were usually of poor quality, and were shaky and without any narrative to give any context as to what was going on. Occasionally, they would find one in which the operator would actually describe the events they were recording.
Two things were already obvious to Travon Dumar, a retired commander of the Sol-Pentaurus Alliance. The Jung had jump drives, and they had used them to invade the Darvano system. Travon was sure that the same thing was happening in every other inhabited system within the cluster, if not the entire sector. And if the Jung had only invaded the cluster thus far, the rest of the sector would soon follow.
The moment the reports had started coming in a few hours ago, Travon had gone into the secret room in his basement, and turned on the deep-space transceiver that had been given to him by Suvan Navarro, Captain of the Avendahl. He had no idea whether or not anyone would attempt to contact him, but if they did, he wanted to be ready.
His wife, of course, had objections to his even owning the transceiver, let alone turning it back on. She had forgiven his decades of deception, during which she had believed him to be working in importing and exporting, when the reality was that he had been commanding a covert, imperial anti-insurgent task force on Corinair. She also forgave him for being gone for three years while he commanded the Alliance forces in Sol, leading them in their rebellion and eventual stalemate against the Jung Empire. But now, with their world under attack by an even bigger threat than the old Takaran Empire, it was time for him to lay low. They were both getting older. It was time for the younger generations to step up and defend their worlds. She wanted him here, with her, running their little resort by the lake. He owed her that much.
“What is going to happen to us?” she asked quietly, as she snuggled up to him on the couch.
“Nothing,” Travon assured her. “The Jung don’t want to kill us. They want our infrastructure and our economy to remain intact. They want us to produce what they need to continue their expansion. Destroying our cities, our factories, our worlds…it does not serve them.” He paused a moment, looking in her eyes.
“What?” she asked, noticing his worried expression.
“If we disobey, they are most ruthless in their punishment. They will only put up with so much. It is a mathematical equation to them. Pure accounting. Profit and loss. If dealing with us proves too costly, they will simply wipe the planet clean and start over, populating it with their own people instead.”
“Seriously?”
“I have seen them do this before,” Travon told her. “They tried to do just that with Earth.”
“It’s difficult to imagine,” she said, looking back at the view screen. “Even Caius Ta’Akar wasn’t that bad.”
“Yes, he was,” Travon replied. “You just didn’t see it. He was a master at media control and propaganda. And at outright purchasing the loyalty of those who might someday oppose him. The same animal, wrapped in different skins.”
Travon’s comm-unit beeped. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out.
“What is it?” his wife asked.
“I must go to the basement,” Travon apologized as he rose. “I am receiving a message. A message from a ship in space.”
She looked at him with pleading eyes.
“It is only a message, nothing more. It could be a warning, one that could save our very lives.”
She wasn’t buying it. “Or one that will suck you back into the same world you promised me you had said goodbye to once and for all.”
“It is only a message. An incoming one at that. It cannot harm us.”
“Not directly, no,” she admitted. “It’s the events that follow the message that concern me.”
“I promised you that I would never leave you behind again…”
“You promised me that you would stay here, Travon,” she corrected.
“And it is a promise that I intend to keep, until my dying day,” he assured her as he backed away from the couch, turned, and headed into the kitchen.
Travon passed through the kitchen and into the storm porch. He closed the inside door behind him, then removed his coat from its hook on the wall behind the door. With his free hand, he twisted the coat hook to the left, and the two vertical panels of wood parted, revealing stairs that led downward. Travon headed down the stairs, pressing a button on his way that closed the panels behind him, hiding the entrance once again. The lights snapped on, and the room below came into view.
The area itself was surprisingly large, with storage lockers on one side, a door that led to a bathroom, and several bunks. On the far side of the room was a gun rack, loaded with every conceivable weapon, most of which were not legal.
Travon moved to the workbench along one of the walls. The screen on the transceiver was glowing, displaying a short string of characters that made no sense. Just a collection of random numbers and letters. He knew the message had to be encrypted, for anyone sending him a message in such fashion would undoubtedly have a military background, most likely one in covert operations such as himself.
Travon immediately set to work attempting to decipher the message. He still had the old encryption algorithms used by the Alliance during his command, but he would have to figure out the starting value for the algorithm. He started with the obvious choices: his wedding anniversary and the birth dates of his two children. He fed the values into the system, and then had it try all two hundred algorithms using each of the dates.
The characters on the screen began to change, shifting as each algorithm tried to create a discernible message using each of the three dates he had entered. After several seconds, a readable message finally appeared.
Twenty-one alpha tango, version two five two. Date of Tug’s death.
Travon checked the transceiver. There were two more messages in the buffer. That’s when he realized that the message was not a message at all, but rather the first step in the decoding process. He quickly called up the next message, selected the indicated algorithm, and then entered the date of his friend’s untimely demise. The second message immediately decoded.
Eighty-seven whiskey mike, version three five seven. Date of Na-Tan’s death.
Travon Dumar smiled. He could only think of a handful of people that he knew who still resided in this part of the galaxy. Fewer still who would know the date on which Nathan Scott, the mythical savior known as Na-Tan in the Book of Origins, had been executed by the Jung as a war criminal.
He selected the next decryption algorithm and entered the date of Nathan Scott’s execution.
But the message did not decrypt.
Travon entered the date again, but with the same negative result. He looked down for a moment. Did I get the date wrong? It didn’t seem possible, since it was a date he would never forget. For he, then Admiral Travon Dumar, had been the one who had put the young captain into the very situation that led to his surrender and eventual execution. He had not known that it would happen, but he knew the mission would be a da
ngerous one. Perhaps the most dangerous mission Captain Scott had ever faced.
He checked again. The date was correct, but still the message refused to decode. Then he remembered something. Something that Commander Telles had said to him at Nathan’s memorial service back on Earth. ‘Legends never die.’
Travon entered zero as the algorithm’s starting value, and the message appeared. His eyes grew wide as he read the message. When he finished, he glanced at the clock on the wall. He had very little time before he had to answer the message, and much to do before then. It would require many steps to ensure that the Jung could not trace the call and discern his location. Although he doubted any such measures would be taken so soon after their initial invasion, it was a chance he could not take. Many lives were at stake, and not just those of himself and his dear wife.
* * *
“Just make sure you get this damn ship fixed as quickly as possible,” Marcus said as the last of the cargo containers were rolled down the Seiiki’s cargo ramp. “I don’t want to stay on this dusty-ass rock any longer than need be.”
“It’s going to take us a couple days, at least, Marcus,” Dalen warned. “You could help, you know, seeing as you’re in such a hurry and all.”
“I don’t fit in those crawl spaces very well,” Marcus shrugged. “I’ll leave that to you and Josh.” Marcus looked around. “Where the hell did he get to?”
“I don’t know,” Dalen replied, picking up the cargo straps from the deck to stow them. “Maybe he went with Nellie for supplies?”
“Josh, voluntarily going with Nellie?” Marcus sneered. “Not likely.”
“With the captain, then?”
“Captain left the moment we touched down, before Josh shut everything down.”
“Hey!” a voice called from outside.
Marcus turned to look down the ramp, but saw no one who looked like they were shouting for his attention.
“Hey!” the voice called again. It was Josh’s voice.
Marcus headed down the cargo ramp, looking for Josh, followed by Dalen. As he neared the bottom of the ramp, he spotted Josh running across the busy space port, dodging cargo carts and other workers.
