by Chris Hechtl
“True,” the elf replied with a nod.
* * * *
“I'm still struggling with it. It's like a dream,” Senator Lars Thurgunsson said, shaking his head. “Or a nightmare, depending on your perspective I suppose,” the elderly statesman said.
Moira Sema, Lieutenant Governor, snorted softly but continued to stare at the image of Admiral Irons. “To have been gone so long and yet …” she murmured.
“It is an opportunity. Definitely a big one,” K'k'R'll the Bek republic's president clacked. He swiveled his four eye stalks from the paused image to the others in the room. “We have a lot to do.”
“I know,” Moira stated. Her mind was working furiously to consider all the options. Finally, she turned gracefully. “I think we're going to need to send a delegation to the outside. That much is a given.”
“He pretty much requested that,” Lars said, indicating the image.
“He did,” Vice Admiral Georgi Pashenkov said nodding. Admiral Sienkov frowned but didn't rise to the challenge. “I think his gifts will help tremendously.”
“They'll certainly redress some of our technological shortcomings I suppose,” Lars mused, rubbing his bearded chin. “But I'm not thrilled about the expenses involved. That's me speaking as the senator and chairman of the military oversight committee as well as the industrial board chairman.”
“We need to get as much done as possible before the media accuses us of dragging our feet. I'm surprised that they haven't jumped all over this already,” K'k'R'll stated.
“That's because Admiral Toronto put a lockdown on his people and encrypted his transmissions to us. I put a lockdown on our end,” Admiral Sienkov stated.
“It's only a matter of time when they do,” Moira said. “I don't see what the problem is. They deserve to know. I doubt there will be any sort of panic! Far from it,” she said. She ran a hand through her braided blue hair. She would need a trim soon, quite possibly a full cut.
“I wonder what they think of us,” Admiral Pashenkov murmured.
“You're eager to go to war,” Lars accused.
The Neowolf turned cold eyes on the senator. “Far from it. I will say it will fulfill a function we've been waiting to fill for centuries. That we don't have to fight a defensive war is something of a relief.”
“You're thinking we can start to stand down some of the fortresses, Admiral?” K'lR'll asked carefully.
The Neowolf's eyes cut to his superior officer before they went to the president. His ears flicked. “I doubt it. I am not sure right now which way we should jump. We definitely shouldn't do anything to damage our economy.”
“No. Definitely not,” the president replied, signaling second degree acceptance and agreement.
“Play it again,” Lars said, indicating the message.
“Why? We've heard it before,” Moira said.
“Humor an old man.”
“We're going to have to listen to it over and over in the media. And when we finally get around to waking the sleepers …,” Admiral Sienkov said.
“They left us in charge. They have to accept we are the leaders. Their time has passed,” Moira said, lifting her chin in challenge. “This is our moment. They will no longer need to sleep the sleep of ages to be woken only when we have a crisis. Nor will others need to sacrifice themselves to become cybers.”
“But some will anyway, Moira. You know that. Space is dangerous. And with the prohibitions on genetic engineering and cloning …,” he shook his head.
She sighed heavily. “I know. Not one of my mother's grandest achievements in politics,” she said with a frown. “Nor yours,” she said, eying Lars.
He shrugged. “I know. I didn't know some people would have that much of a backlash. We can start to get that sorted out now though. And the spacers like Admiral Toronto who are suffering with substandard prosthetics can finally get the proper limb or body part replacements they deserve,” he said firmly.
“Here here,” Admiral Pashenkov echoed softly, flicking his ears.
K'k'R'll turned all of his eyestalks to the vice admiral, then to Admiral Sienkov. The human admiral was the highest ranking officer in their navy. He was their chief of the navy. What many didn't know outside the high political circles was that the old man was suffering from a series of ailments that were forcing him into retirement.
Which was a pity since he still had a lot to contribute and was willing to do so. Old soldiers didn't seem to just fade away; they turned into ghosts and evaporated rather quickly once they were out of uniform and had no further purpose.
It was something many people didn't like to see happen. But it was a part of nature, the need to move on, to let the next generation step up, fill the leadership, make the decisions, and learn from the mistakes.
“Play it again,” the president said, taking on a serene pose as he turned to the screen.
“Very well, sir,” Admiral Pashenkov said. He reached out and tapped play.
“This is Fleet Admiral John Henry Irons, acting president of the Federation. I'm sorry it had taken this long to get back to you; circumstances spiraled well out of my or anyone else's control. And it seems the Federation either forgot or decided to keep your location a secret.”
“When I came to your star system, your ancestors had created a quite place to retire and let the rest of the galaxy pass by. Many of those who had retired were military members. And I had to follow my orders to call them back into service,” he said with a trace of a grimace.
“And I did so because they were needed. They and you, their descendants still are. If any of those who lived in that time period are still around, I salute you,” he said with a brief smile. “You did better than I did. I was stuck in a stasis pod for the past seven centuries.”
“If he only knew,” Moira murmured.
Lars gave her a scolding look so she pouted slightly and crossed her arms.
“I've been attempting to reestablish contact with you for some time. Even taking the high risk of attempting the contact myself without the proper helm team to help me get to you,” the admiral said.
“Pause,” the president said, motioning with one true hand.
The vice admiral's hand lashed out and hit the pause button. He turned expectantly to the president.
“To attempt such an undertaking …”
“On his own. I had wondered if that part was true or not. The recordings from this Captain Perth back up the statement, as does the download we received. Apparently Admiral Irons took his own ship the Phoenix and tried to get to us,” Admiral Pashenkov stated.
“Tried and failed. When he finally did have what he needed, a Ssilli, he chose to turn away and go to Antigua instead,” Moira said, wrinkling her nose.
“Give the man some credit. He had one Ssilli and a bunch of half-crippled ships. They would have never survived the journey,” Admiral Pashenkov retorted.
“It is doubtful,” Admiral Sienkov agreed.
“I'll bow to the experts then,” Moira said, bowing slightly.
“Resume the recording,” the president stated.
“I have established myself in Antigua, and I have, with the assistance of the people here and elsewhere, started to rebuild the Federation. Along the way we've discovered a major threat to all surviving species, the Horathian Empire. They have vowed to take up where the Xenos left off. They have been a pirate scourge in this part of the galaxy for some time since the old Federation fell. Now they have gathered enough loot to launch their “cleansing” across the galaxy.”
“I don't like the sound of that,” the Neowolf growled.
“Nor do I,” Admiral Sienkov said, shooting a glance at the Neowolf before returning his attention to the Fleet admiral's image.
“One wonders if he would have bothered to contact us at all if this threat hadn't been so dire,” Lars said.
The Neowolf hit the pause button again with his claw tip and turned to the Senator. “I disagree. He took a chance in sending a ship, a cruise
r to us. He packed it with gear. That ship is presumably needed defending the Federation,” he said. “If the pirates are everywhere, it will be ugly trying to mount an offense while also holding onto what they have.”
“We're still trying to get a handle on that part,” Admiral Sienkov said before Lars could interrupt.
“I'm wondering what happened to the Xenos,” the president said. All eyes turned to him.
“Let's not go looking for problems again. That is what the Federation did as its biggest mistake. Let's let sleeping dragons slumber in the arms of Morpheus,” Lars said with a shudder.
“The problem with that approach is that you don't go looking for a problem and suddenly it comes at you out of the blue and bites you in the ass,” the Neowolf admiral said, showing his teeth briefly.
“Nice one. I was going to say roasting us myself,” Admiral Sienkov interrupted smoothly. “Let's finish what you started,” he said, indicating the paused image.
“I can't get you everything you need. I know that, and I know you know that. There are few officers and ships in the Federation. We're growing, but it takes time to train raw personnel. Worse, it takes time to find them and get them to the training centers,” he said with a grimace. “I'm hoping you've kept the shipyard up or at least stored it. The gifts I've sent along in Caroline should help your society a bit. More will come once Caroline returns and we're certain of contact.”
He shook his head. “Unfortunately, I can't send you the keys. They require an officer; many require a flag officer. To give your president the keys, he'd have to visit me. I am now the only keymaster in existence. I am also needed here in Antigua managing the industrial plant as well as the growing Federation, at least for the foreseeable future.”
“Sucks to be him,” Moira murmured thoughtfully. A scheme was presenting itself in her mind. It was nebulous, but she finally had a better goal than the Bek president's chair. Something bigger and far better. The game would be fun as well.
She'd already gamed out what regular contact with the Federation would mean. Industrial changes yes of course, but also medical. And with them would come the long lost anti-geriatric treatments. That would cut years off the old men in the room with her. It would add decades and possibly centuries of life to them, which would mean stagnation in the political arena. K'k'R'll was just too well liked by all. He was clean as snow; her staff and investigators had shown her that much.
And with this, his popularity would soar. With the med tech, he was a shoo-in for another term, possibly two she thought. No, she needed another place to go, and the Federation was suddenly looking like a much bigger playground for her. If that is, she handled it right.
“I'm inviting you to rejoin the Federation. Once we're certain of contact and your willingness to join us, I'll send another ship with an ansible,” the admiral said.
Despite hearing it before, it still sent a quiver through the audience.
“I don't know if I'll be able to send two. It might be best to set the ansible up in B102c and use couriers to bring the final word, at least until another ansible can be sent.”
“Why not send two at the same time?” Lars demanded as the Admiral paused.
“He might. But the rapids do not guarantee that they'll get here intact. Any sort of jostling will eat at the ansibles apparently,” Admiral Pashenkov replied. “I'm no expert on it.”
“We can ask Zekowitz. He'd know the basics,” Admiral Sienkov murmured.
Lars grunted and nodded.
“I do not know your status, nor that of Nuevo. Hopefully we can establish both. I invite you to send a delegation back with you to meet with me. If you have serving officers, please send a group of senior officers with engineering and or medical training. I can arrange that they receive some keys when they get an implant update and then they can return to you.”
“That part I like,” Admiral Pashenkov said, pointing to the image of the Fleet admiral. “Though how much and what keys remains a big question mark.”
“Indeed,” the president replied.
“This is Fleet Admiral Irons signing off. Long live the Federation,” the admiral stated, bowing slightly before the video stopped.
“We do have our work cut out for us,” the President said. “So, we've had a small start, but we need to do more. I'm going to be busy laying the spadework with things here in the capital. And since I'm heavily watched by the media, I can't sneak away to visit this Caroline, at least, not yet,” the Veraxin clacked. He turned to Admiral Sienkov. “I leave their greeting to you then, Admiral.”
The admiral nodded.
“I'd like to be on hand,” Moira said, raising a hand.
“Understood,” the admiral said, nodding.
“I believe they wish to unload first before the formal meet and greet,” Admiral Pashenkov stated. “They are scheduled to arrive in the early evening on the twenty-first. We can arrange the meeting on the following morning, if our people get her unloaded in time.”
“She's not a freighter. What did they bring?” Lars asked, frowning.
“Apparently a lot. I saw the image they passed on of the bridge, it's packed. They sent an inventory as well,” the admiral said, handing a chip over to the senator. “Some of it was earmarked for Nuevo. A few things like the seeds I suppose we don't need.”
“We can pass them on to Nuevo. Anything we've recreated can be passed on. Do they have a hyperdrive? Can we make them now?” Lars asked, suddenly eager.
“Yes they have hyperdrive components. No, we can't make them,” Admiral Sienkov stated flatly. The Senator scowled. “What they've brought us is a start. With it to stimulate us, I think we can do a lot.”
“It will definitely go a long way,” Lars said cautiously. “After all, look at what the admiral did with just what he brought with him,” he said.
“Right. So, let's get the spadework done. Something tells me when news does break, all hell is going to break loose and we're going to be doing a lot of talking and not as much work as we'd like,” the president stated.
“Agreed,” the Senator replied with a brief smile and snort.
* * * *
The closer they got to the inner system of Component A the more his mind boggled. Bek didn't just have one fleet it had four. One fleet sat near orbital fortresses at the jump point. And there were a lot of orbital fortresses there with the shoals of weapons.
The second fleet they could see coming into view around Component A's habitable planet. There were also a lot of orbital forts in a shell around the planet and a second set around the shipyard and industrial complex as CIC had already pointed out. They were obviously not taking any chances with the safety of the Bekian people.
He could appreciate that. Even if all that fire power was a tad bit unnerving to some. He could understand that too. It kept everyone on their toes and definitely on their best behavior.
According to CIC and the comm section, a third fleet was in the B component of the star system orbiting the moons there with again, another shell of orbital fortresses around each of the terraformed moons.
The final fleet was the same size as each of the three others. It roved between the star systems as a fast action force and ready reserve. Each fleet was rotated between duty assignments to keep the personnel and equipment from getting stale.
It was insane. If the numbers held up, and he was pretty sure they would, they had 92 capital ships, over 180 of those battle carriers they labeled as Macross class, 184 cruisers, 552 destroyers, 1104 frigates, and those were just the warships. There were dozens of support ships to keep them running smoothly.
And if all reports were accurate, one flagship, the old but apparently still serviceable battleship the UFNS Rear Admiral John Henry Irons. Somehow fitting giving the settings and what he knew about the star system's history and yet not. A wee bit premature, the man wasn't as dead as they thought, he thought with a smile.
He wasn't certain the admiral was a battleship sort of man. Now battle planet wa
s a different story.
They had the download from Bek command. It was like drinking from a fire hose, tons of data in it. He was still getting a handle on the basics. Angie and a CIC team were sorting out the rest for a presentation to the officers later.
Fourteen billion souls. That was more than everyone in Rho sector combined. All on one massive star system. Fourteen billion with a massive industrial complex, a massive quartet of fleets, and of that fourteen billion with a B, roughly forty-five million people in uniform. According to his search, thirty-seven million were one form of reservist or another, but the mind boggled. That meant two or even three times that number of people who at one time had been in the military before they'd retired or whatever.
Angie had dug up that a small group of those military personnel were marines, but most of the military was navy through and through. It made a sort of sense; the marines had SPs to help keep order. They wouldn't need to board ships or invade planets when trapped in the star system. In order to defend the star system, they needed ships and people to crew them.
But Angie had passed on her findings to the small squad of marines on board Caroline. Ensign Dega had taken an interest and taken up where the XO had left off. She'd passed on some interesting tid bits.
According to Dega's research, the Bekian Marines lacked proper power armor. They had some sort of crude exosuit. Most of the marines got along just fine with just the basics, plus ancient legacy equipment lovingly maintained. Some of it was in museums, copied but heavily worn by time and use.
Fourteen billion people, many of them of a high level of technical education for the given population, higher than most worlds in the current Federation. All bottled up here in this star system. Until now he reminded himself.
According to Angie's research, some of the people living were sleepers in stasis from back to the Xeno war times. One of them was a historian, a high elf named Doctor Fara Windswept. She had done her best to keep them on track, but according to her historical files, they'd had some periods where the political establishment had taken their society off their planned track.
