by Ryk Brown
“How much longer?” Sergeant Torwell asked.
“What are you worried about?” Lieutenant Latfee wondered. “There isn’t a Jung ship within twenty light years of this system.”
“I’m not worried,” the sergeant replied, “I’m hungry. It’s way past dinner time.”
“I’ve finished uploading the navigational database. I’m uploading the message for Sol Alliance Command now,” Deliza told them. “Just a quick systems check…”
“We’re coming up on the launch window in thirty seconds,” Lieutenant Latfee warned. “If we miss it, we’ll have to wait for the drone to make another lap around the planet.”
“I knew I should have brought some snacks,” the sergeant muttered.
“All systems are good,” Deliza announced. “The drone is ready to launch.”
Jessica reached into her pocket and pulled out an energy bar, handing it to the sergeant.
“Bless you, sir.”
“Ten seconds to launch window.”
“I’m transmitting the launch order now.”
“I get whiny when my blood sugar gets low,” the sergeant said as he took a bite of the energy bar.
“Get?” Jessica commented skeptically.
“Jump comm-drone is powering up its jump field emitters,” Deliza announced. The back of the jump shuttle momentarily filled with a blue-white light. “Drone is away.”
“How long will it take to get to Sol?” Jessica asked.
“Not more than twenty hours,” Deliza replied.
“I thought jump comm-drones routinely made the trip between the PC and Sol in six hours?”
“The ones that are designed for such trips, yes. I’ve instructed our drone to pause for several minutes at each jump point and get multiple navigational fixes, just to be safe.” She looked at Jessica. “I assumed that getting the message to Sol was more important than how long it took to get there. After all, even if they send help immediately, it will take them some time to reach us, depending on their jump capabilities.”
“No, you’re right,” Jessica agreed. “Good thinking.”
“Can we go home now?” Sergeant Torwell wondered. “We’ve been jumping around all damn day.”
“One bar wasn’t enough to shut you up, huh?” Jessica laughed.
* * *
“Captain on deck!” the guard at the door barked as Captain Taylor entered the Aurora’s command briefing room. The officers, gathered around the conference table, immediately moved to stand.
“As you were,” Cameron insisted as she walked to the head of the table. While she usually enjoyed the respect that came with her position, there were times when it was not needed. “Let’s get straight to it,” she said as she took her seat. She glanced around the room briefly, taking a quick head count. Other than her CAG, all of her command staff was present. “As of thirteen twenty-seven, Earth Mean Time, our gunships lost contact with the surviving ships from the Jung battle group that we engaged a few hours ago.” Cameron paused a moment, taking note of the looks of frustration and disappointment on the faces of her officers. “The report is the same as before. One moment, they had good tracks, and the next moment they were gone.”
“How is that even possible?” Commander Caro, the ship’s chief medical officer asked.
“I have to wonder the same thing,” Lieutenant Commander Vidmar agreed. “The frigates I could understand. They don’t give off a lot of emissions, especially when they’re running cold. But Jung battleships are like Christmas trees on our sensors, Captain.”
“Even battleships can rig for cold running,” Commander Kaplan, the ship’s executive officer, commented.
“Maybe, but a Jung battleship is five kilometers long,” the lieutenant commander reminded her. “Even if they’re running cold at sublight speeds, they’ll light up if you are sweeping with actives.”
“The targets were slipping in and out of FTL, constantly changing course at random intervals and in random directions,” Lieutenant Commander Kono, the Aurora’s lead sensor officer, explained. She turned to her captain. “I briefly went over Cobra Two One Four’s sensor logs, Captain. The Jung were aggressively trying to shake our gunships.”
“What about old light?” Commander Caro asked. “Can’t they back off and try to catch it from further out?”
“I’m afraid not,” Cameron replied. “It’s not always that easy.”
“Especially when you’re trying to track FTL signatures,” Lieutenant Commander Kono added.
“But everything gives off some emissions,” the commander insisted.
“If they went cold as soon as they came out of FTL, then launched a decoy back into FTL, it would be easy for the gunships to miss,” Lieutenant Commander Kono explained. “And by the time you figure out you’ve been tricked, the original target has changed course and gone back into FTL in a different direction.” The sensor officer turned to address Captain Taylor. “That’s probably what happened, sir. And shortly after going to FTL, the decoys probably went back to sublight and shut down. And they’re small enough that they’d be hard to find.”
“Which would explain why the targets just disappeared,” the Aurora’s XO, Commander Kaplan, commented.
“Precisely what I was thinking,” Cameron replied.
“Still, shouldn’t we keep looking for their old light?” Lieutenant Commander Vidmar, the Aurora’s senior tactical officer, suggested.
“The Cobras will continue searching,” Cameron replied. “But truth be told, by the time they pick up their trail, they will have already changed course and speed at least a dozen times.”
“Captain,” Vladimir began, “am I the only one who thinks the Jung are only making themselves detectable when they wish us to detect them?”
Cameron looked at her chief engineer. “Why would they want us to detect them?”
“To draw our ships out of position,” Lieutenant Commander Vidmar suggested.
“To test our response,” Commander Kaplan added.
“Or to test their capabilities,” Vladimir chimed in.
“Are you suggesting the Jung have some sort of stealth capabilities that we aren’t aware of?” Cameron asked her chief engineer.
“Like some sort of cloaking technology?” the executive officer added.
Vladimir shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m only pointing out how odd it is that they were able to get so deep into Alliance space without being detected, and then, at a time of their choosing, they are able to vanish. What is that game? Cat and mouse?”
“We just destroyed four of their ships,” Lieutenant Dinev, the ship’s lead helmsman said, finally joining the debate. “That’s a really expensive way to play cat and mouse, don’t you think?”
“Four ships, and probably close to a thousand lives,” the XO added. “And that’s just from the battle at ACB. How many other ships were destroyed in the other engagements?”
“The number of ships and crew lost is irrelevant at this point,” Captain Taylor insisted, trying to maintain control of the meeting. “Regardless of what the Jung are up to, we are technically at a state of war once again.”
The room suddenly became quiet.
“Granted, none of our ships have suffered any damage, and no Alliance lives have been lost, either military or civilian,” Cameron continued. “However, by the letter of the cease-fire agreement, both unauthorized trespassing in Alliance space, and firing on Alliance ships, constitutes an act of war.”
“You don’t think Galiardi will launch the SKKVs, do you?” Lieutenant Commander Vidmar wondered.
“It’s not the admiral’s call,” Cameron reminded him. “It’s the president’s.”
“Thank God for that,” Commander Kaplan muttered.
Cameron shot a disapproving glance at her executive officer. It wasn’t the first time Lara had voiced her disapproval of the admiral. And although Cameron didn’t much care for him, she had warned her second in command to keep such opinions to herself while in the presence of
junior officers. “SKKV strikes would be warranted, at least legally,” Cameron continued. “However, I doubt that the president will approve any use of SKKVs unless Alliance assets are directly attacked.”
“Uh, we were fired upon, Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Vidmar reminded Cameron. “More than once I might add.”
“But in each instance, Alliance ships fired first,” Lieutenant Commander Kono pointed out.
“Because they were invading our territory,” Lieutenant Commander Vidmar argued. “Hell, we even warned them!”
“That’s enough,” Cameron chided. She paused a moment, waiting for things to settle down. “I know that for many of you, this has been your first time under fire, so I’ll cut you some slack. But the fact is, we have to be ready to fight a war. Why is irrelevant, at least for us. We go where we’re told to go, and fight when we’re told to fight. It’s as simple as that. Now, I didn’t call you here to debate the issues. I called this meeting because I want to know exactly how prepared for combat this ship really is.” She looked at her executive officer. “Commander?”
“We are currently at seventy percent staffing levels throughout the ship,” Commander Kaplan said. “Unfortunately, that’s as good as it’s going to get for now. Some of our crew was transferred to the Cape Town, since we were a day from going down for refit. We were due to get replacements straight out of the academy once we were back in service.”
“Will that be enough?”
“If I shift some people around a bit, yes. But we’ll only be able to field three shifts instead of four, which means six-hour rotations instead of four.”
“Schedule some floaters from each shift to come in and relieve people at key positions for short breaks,” Cameron suggested. “And make sure we have plenty of coffee onboard.”
“That’s going to be a bit of a problem,” the commander responded. “We’re low on just about everything. In fact, we don’t even have a supply officer.”
“Let me guess. He was transferred to the Cape Town,” Cameron said.
“Yes, sir. I sent a message to command logistics, and told them to send us everything… To just pretend like they were stocking a new ship. They said they’d get on it.”
“Any word when we’ll get those supplies?”
“Nothing solid. A few days, at the most.”
“I’m assuming we’re good on ammunition,” Cameron said.
“We weren’t scheduled to offload the rail gun rounds until our reactor cores were removed,” the commander explained. “I guess they wanted us to remain armed until we absolutely could not be asked to get underway at a moment’s notice. However, we’re only at fifty percent jump missile capacity.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cameron replied. She turned to her tactical officer. “Lieutenant Commander Vidmar, feel free to keep me apprised of our jump missile count at all times.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Commander Caro?”
“I’m short two physicians, four nurses, and a few med-techs,” the chief medical officer counted. “And I only have two rescue teams. However, we were also waiting for the reactor cores to be removed before we shut down completely, so supply-wise, we’re in good shape. However, if we do suffer heavy casualties, we’re going to need to jump them back to Earth as quickly as possible, at least until I get fully staffed again.”
“Your people were transferred as well?”
“No, sir. Doctor Borrison’s rotation was up, and he went to his next specialty rotation back on Earth. He can be recalled if necessary. Doctor Lorenz is having treatment on his knee. If you remember, he injured it while on leave. As for the others, they will be returning in a few days. But the two replacement physicians could take several weeks. Fleet medical is trying to get a few trauma surgeons to volunteer for temporary duty in the meantime.”
Cameron looked at Vladimir wearily. “Please tell me you don’t have any bad news.”
“I’m afraid I do,” Vladimir replied. “In light of the Jung transgressions into Alliance space, Fleet has canceled my transfer.” Vladimir smiled. “I guess you’re stuck with me a while longer, Captain.”
A small smile crept into the corner of Cameron’s mouth as she turned away from Vladimir and back toward her executive officer. “Get me a new duty roster, and an updated supply count, Commander. And designate someone to take over as supply officer.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
Jerrot faced straight ahead, but his eyes flicked back and forth nervously as he watched the Jung guards inspect the vehicle. “This is the fifth checkpoint in not even as many kilometers.”
“I know.” Travon Dumar’s demeanor was the exact opposite of Jerrot’s.
“What is it they are looking for?”
“Weapons, people trying to get out of the city,” Dumar explained calmly. “Anything that doesn’t sit right with them. Mostly, they are just trying to get a feel for what the normal flow of traffic might be. This is why they issued a bulletin on the net just after the invasion, stating that everyone should go about their business as usual, but to expect delays in transit.”
“How do they expect us to function normally when they stop us at every other intersection?”
“Relax, Jerrot. It will not be this way forever,” Dumar assured his nervous friend. “They only seized control yesterday. In time, things will settle back down to normal.”
Jerrot rolled his eyes. “Normal, you say. How are things going to ever be normal under Jung occupation?”
“We lived under occupation before, and we can live under it again.”
“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this,” Jerrot muttered, his eyes still on the guards in front of them.
“Try not to appear nervous. You’ll draw attention to yourself.”
“I’ll likely draw more attention if I do not appear nervous.” Jerrot looked at Dumar. “Remember, you promised to get me and my family off of Corinair in exchange for helping you.”
“You have my word, Jerrot.”
“I still don’t understand how an importer ended up being a retired Alliance admiral. Someday, you must explain that one to me, Travon.”
“Someday. For now, keep your mind focused on your job,” Dumar insisted. “You are delivering wines to market, just as you always do, twice weekly. And I am here to help you move the barrels because your usual assistant did not show up for work today.”
Jerrot studied Dumar’s calm demeanor for a moment. “How do you do it, Travon?” he asked, a puzzled expression on his face. “How do you remain so calm? They have guns, after all. Lots of them.”
“I have faced men with guns before, Jerrot.”
Jerrot shook his head in amazement. “Yes, there is much you still have to tell me about yourself, Travon.”
The soldiers detaining the vehicle in front of them stepped back and waved it forward through the checkpoint. Then they turned to look at Jerrot’s truck, gesturing for him to advance to the inspection area.
Jerrot took a deep breath and rolled the truck forward a few meters.
“Present identity cards to be inspected,” the Jung soldier demanded. His accent was thick, and his pronunciation of the Corinairan language was difficult to understand.
Jerrot handed his card to the soldier outside his window, as Dumar passed his to the soldier on his side of the vehicle.
“What purpose are you to entering this city?” the Jung soldier said curtly.
Jerrot recoiled at the sudden questioning. It was the fifth time a Jung guard had asked him the same question today, but this one had the poorest Corinairan yet. “Uh, my purpose is to deliver garant spice wine to the market.”
“What is this…wine?” the soldier asked, one eyebrow rising in suspicion.
Jerrot looked at Dumar, confused. Then he looked back at the soldier standing in his window. “Uh, it’s a warm beverage, made from garant fruit. You drink it,” he added, miming the act of drinking. “It is very popular on this world. It makes you feel g
ood.” Jerrot offered an exaggerated smile for the soldier.
“And why are you to come with him?” the soldier on Dumar’s side of the truck inquired.
“To help him move the barrels of wine off the truck.”
The soldier looked at Dumar, taking note of his age.
“My usual helper did not show up for work today,” Jerrot explained.
“This is work for younger man,” the soldier chuckled. “Much younger, I think.”
“I am not too old to move a few barrels of wine, my friend.”
The soldiers laughed at Dumar’s response.
“From where does this wine come?” the first soldier wondered.
“Dakon Province, eighty kilometers to the west,” Dumar replied quickly, before Jerrot could mistakenly give the guards the true origination point of their product, which was just south of Dumar’s resort.
“And how many times to usual do you make such deliveries?”
“Two times per week, on average,” Jerrot replied.
Dumar glanced at the rear camera view on the truck’s console, watching as one of the other soldiers walked slowly along the side of their vehicle, scanning it with a handheld sensor unit. The man paused at the tail of the vehicle for a moment, staring at his scanner, then looked forward and signaled to the soldier standing next to Dumar that everything was in order.
“Your identity card,” the Jung soldier outside Dumar’s window said. “Have a good day, Mister Oslo,” he added in an expression of politeness that seemed completely unnatural.
“Thank you,” Dumar replied as he accepted the card back. “To you as well.”
“You may proceed,” the other soldier instructed, as he handed Jerrot’s ID card back to him and signaled the soldiers at the gate to allow them to pass.
“Thank you, sir,” Jerrot replied, trying to hide the overwhelming feeling of relief washing over him. He put the ID card back in his shirt pocket and moved the vehicle slowly forward. After pulling through the gate and driving a full block, he was finally able to relax a bit. “They asked more questions than the previous checkpoints.”
