by Ryk Brown
“To do what?”
The admiral leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands in his lap. “I wasn’t aware that I was required to explain my decisions to you, Lieutenant Commander.”
“No disrespect intended, Admiral, but in this case, I think you at least owe me an explanation.”
Admiral Dumar thought for a moment. Had such a response come from any other officer under his command, he would have had them thrown into the brig for insubordination. They had been through a lot together, going all the way back to the moment on the Aurora when he had finally confirmed that his oldest friend, a man he had thought long dead, had in fact been alive, and was leading a resistance against the very leader Admiral Dumar had then served. “I suppose I do owe you that much,” he admitted. “You are being assigned to the Ghatazhak training unit. You’re going to help train Alliance Marines, again.”
“Again, why? Telles and his bunch are far better qualified to teach them how to fight.”
“But you can teach them covert operations,” the admiral explained, “something that the Ghatazhak know little about.”
“Oh, they know more about it than you think,” Jessica argued.
“Nevertheless, those are your orders.”
“Again, no disrespect intended, Admiral, but that’s bullshit, and you know it.”
Admiral Dumar chuckled. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you, Nash?”
“We shouldn’t even be wasting time talking about this,” Jessica insisted.
“Then what is it we should be talking about?”
“About rescuing Nathan!” Jessica replied. When the admiral didn’t respond, it began to make sense to her. “That’s why you’re reassigning me, isn’t it? You’re afraid I’m going to go off all half-cocked and try something on my own!”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” Admiral Dumar admitted.
“Then tell me what you’re planning to do about rescuing Nathan, so you won’t have to worry!”
“It’s not that simple, Jess, and you know it.”
“The hell it’s not!” Jessica argued.
“Don’t you think I want to rescue him?” the admiral yelled back, finally losing his patience with her. “Do you know how hard it is not to say, fuck it, and authorize a goddamned rescue? Knowing that the man who saved my world is sitting in a Jung prison right now, probably undergoing all manner of torture and interrogation, and God knows what else?”
“Then fucking do something!” Jessica demanded.
“I can’t! And you damn well know it! Billions of lives, Jessica! Billions of lives are at stake here! You know it! And Nathan knew it! That’s why he surrendered! To save billions of lives…ours and theirs! And I will not dishonor his noble sacrifice!”
“It’s not right!” Jessica protested.
“I know it isn’t!” the admiral agreed. “But it was his choice to make, and I have to respect it.”
“You may have to respect it, but…”
“And that’s exactly why you’re being reassigned!” the admiral pointed out. “Goddamn it, Jessica. If you try and rescue Nathan on your own, you’ll not only get yourself killed, but you’ll be sacrificing everyone else you talk into helping you. And in the end, Nathan will still die at the hands of the Jung. Then they’ll have their Tonba-Hon-Venar, and billions will die. Is that what you want? The blood of billions on your hands, and Nathan’s?”
Jessica looked as if she would explode. Her eyes darted about in confusion and frustration, welling up with tears, despite her attempts to suppress them. “I can’t just do nothing,” she finally whispered. “I can’t.”
“I know,” the admiral replied in hushed tones. “That’s why I’m transferring you to Porto Santo… So you can’t.”
* * *
Nathan stared at the ceiling, his focus on the light directly over his head. Throughout his body, pain receptors fired as a nano-war between good and evil raged within him. His hands and feet were bound by hard restraints which held him firmly against the table. Intravenous lines inserted into his femoral veins and arteries kept him alive, despite the myriad of chemicals and nanotech circulating within him. It was a horror like no other. One that simply could not be imagined. Pain without injury. Suffering without relief. Not even the lingering hope of escape through death.
Technicians routinely checked on him. Indifferent to his suffering, some even enjoying it, as if they had been blessed by the opportunity to participate. After all, he was the object of evil in their minds. The cause of all the death and destruction their world had suffered only a few weeks ago. The man who had ordered the strike on Zhu-Anok… The strike which had sent countless pieces of that moon hurtling toward Nor-Patri, killing millions.
The longer Nathan was kept alive to suffer, the happier they would be.
He had been in Jung captivity for just over a day, as best as he could determine. If by no other measure than the number of shifts of technicians that had cycled through since he was first strapped to this table. Yet, they had not asked him a single question. In fact, no one had spoken directly to him since he had set foot on the Jung homeworld. He wasn’t even sure he was on Nor-Patri, or any world, for that matter. There had been no windows on the shuttle, and his head had been covered when he was hauled from the shuttle upon its arrival. He had no idea where he was. All he knew was pain.
The odd thing was, he was not tired, yet he was sure he had not slept. Nor was he hungry or thirsty, despite the fact that he had not been given food or water since his surrender. He didn’t even need to use the toilet.
“Captain Scott,” a familiar voice called from out of Nathan’s line of sight. He heard slow, steady footfalls. Solid and sure, boots treading on the tile floor, approaching from the unseen doorway to his right and above.
A face came into view. Old, distinguished, thin… Bacca. Nathan tried to speak, but nothing came out, at least nothing intelligible.
“Ah, I see the meds are beginning to take their toll on you,” the old general smiled cruelly. “The ability to speak is one of the first to go. Actually, bladder control is the first to go, but you’ve been catheterized, so do not be concerned.” The general looked down at Nathan’s groin. “They weren’t very neat about it, were they? No matter. I don’t suppose you’ll have much need for your penis from this point forward.” The general looked back at Nathan. “Quite the noble sacrifice you’ve made, surrendering yourself to us. Stupid, but noble nonetheless. Of course, you realize the nanites your people injected will not protect you. In fact, they are the primary cause of your discomfort at the moment. Eventually, our nanites will overpower yours, and we shall have complete access to everything you know. I would urge you not to resist, but, quite honestly, you do not have the ability to resist…not with all the nasty stuff they are pumping into your system at the moment. But do not worry, no true harm will come to you. A lot of pain and suffering, yes, but you will not die, of that you can be sure. I cannot allow that. You see, after we have finished extracting information, you shall be put on trial for crimes against the empire. It will be broadcast to every corner of the empire. You’ll have the best advocates available. You shall lose, of course. Only then will you be allowed to die, while on display, for all the people of the Jung Empire to witness. I believe your world calls that closure.” The general smiled once more, then glanced up at the time. “Oh, dear, I must be going. They are pinning another medal on me, and I don’t want to be late.” The general disappeared from Nathan’s view. “I will check in on you later,” the general promised as he left the room.
Now, at least, he knew this would all eventually come to an end.
* * *
A knock sounded at Admiral Dumar’s office door. He looked up from his desk and saw Commander Telles standing in the doorway, dressed in a standard Alliance officer’s duty uniform, sporting the rank of lieutenant.
“Lieutenant?” he said in surprise, asking more about the rank than the fact that he was not wearing his usual Ghatazhak uniform.
Commander Telles closed the door behind him without saying a word. A simple look at the admiral signaled Dumar to activate the room’s sound suppression fields to ensure they would be speaking in private.
“Why the uniform and rank change?” the admiral asked.
“Low profile,” the commander replied.
“You do realize that most of my officers would recognize you, with or without your usual Ghatazhak accoutrements.”
“It is not your officers from which I wish to go unnoticed.”
“I see,” the admiral replied. “Then I take it you have something of importance you wish to discuss. Something that you could not discuss on secure vid-link?”
“The only truly secure discussions take place between two trusted allies, in a sealed, shielded, and swept room, Admiral.”
As usual, there was no arguing with Ghatazhak logic. “If you have come to try to persuade me to rescue Captain Scott, I’m afraid Lieutenant Commander Nash has already beaten you to it.”
“Asking you for permission to mount a rescue would be a waste of our time, as we both know you could not grant such a request.”
“I’m glad someone understands,” the admiral said. “Perhaps you can explain it to Jessica, when she reports to Porto Santo tomorrow.”
“I shall do my best.”
“So, why did you come?”
“I believe we should insert operatives onto the Jung homeworld as soon as possible,” Commander Telles announced.
Admiral Dumar leaned back in his chair, intrigued by the commander’s suggestion, but said nothing.
“We know the Jung have had operatives on Earth for at least a decade, perhaps longer. And I suspect that such operatives are still among us.”
“Not within the Alliance,” the admiral protested.
“Doubtful, but there are likely still some of them among the general population. Of course, I cannot be certain of this, but one would be foolish to assume otherwise.”
“Agreed. And who would you suggest we trust with such an assignment?” the admiral wondered.
“Several of Lieutenant Commander Bowden’s men were once Jung soldiers, and have proven themselves to be loyal to the Alliance.”
“What would you propose?”
“I propose we establish regular jump comm-drone service with the Jung homeworld, under the guise of keeping the lines of communication open between the Jung Empire and the Sol-Pentaurus Alliance.”
“You want to routinely put a jump-enabled comm-drone into Jung space?” the admiral asked, surprised that the commander would make such a suggestion.
“It would not be difficult to create a tamper-proof drone,” Commander Telles explained. “Simply program it to jump in near Nor-Patri, wait a specific period of time, then jump out again. Any attempts to capture, disable, or otherwise tamper with the drone would result in its immediate destruction. Such a drone could be used to exchange not only communications between the Jung and the Alliance, but also between the Alliance and our operatives on Nor-Patri.”
“I can’t say that I am completely comfortable with the idea of regularly putting a jump comm-drone into Jung space,” the admiral admitted, “tamper-proof or not.”
“I am sure it can be made safe,” the commander insisted. “If not, then we simply send manned vessels to exchange messages.”
“You realize the Jung may not allow this,” the admiral said. “They will see through this ruse. They will assume we have ulterior motives. At the very least, they will suspect that the jump comm-drone is conducting surveillance.”
“It is to their advantage to maintain the lines of communication,” the commander replied. “And from the distance the drone would jump in at, reconnaissance would be of little value. The Jung would know this.”
“And would they not also assume that we could use this drone to communicate with our operatives on their world?”
“They would,” the commander replied. “But they might also see it as a way to possibly track and arrest such operatives, or better yet, to feed them false intelligence. Either way, they would likely agree to it, as it would give them opportunities that they might not otherwise have.”
Admiral Dumar considered the commander’s words. “And should the Jung agree, how would we insert these operatives?”
“The same way we inserted the team onto Kohara,” the commander replied. “The conversion of three mini-subs into jump subs began during the preparation for the Kohara mission. There are still two mini-subs that are partially converted. All they need is to be outfitted with their mini-jump drives.”
“So, besides putting a jump comm-drone into Jung space on a regular basis, you also want to park two jump subs in their oceans?”
“They too can be made tamper-proof,” the commander pointed out.
“I would feel more comfortable if they were destroyed after delivery,” the admiral admitted.
“You would be committing the operatives to a one-way mission. Besides, there is likely plenty of debris already in those oceans, the result of larger pieces of destroyed ships having passed through the atmosphere of Nor-Patri without burning up. It could be decades before the Jung even notice something unusual was on the bottom.”
The admiral shook his head, sighing. “Still, it is a very dangerous proposition. Why would any of these men be willing to take such risks?”
“Why do any of us take such risks?” the commander asked. “Because we believe in what we do.”
* * *
Jessica pulled the door open and found Vladimir standing on the other side.
“What do you want?” she demanded, turning around and heading back to her bed to continue packing.
“I came as soon as I heard,” Vladimir said as he entered Jessica’s quarters, closing the door behind him. “Is it true?”
Jessica looked at him, sneering. “No, I’m packing up all my shit because I’m going on vacation.”
“Maybe if we ask the admiral to…”
“Who do you think transferred me?” Jessica replied, cutting him off.
“I do not understand,” Vladimir said. “Why transfer you? We are already without a captain. Now we will be without a security chief?”
“He was afraid I’d try to rescue Nathan,” Jessica said as she continued packing.
“Where are they sending you?”
“Porto Santo, so I can’t do anything crazy.”
“If he thinks that would stop you, he does not know you very well,” Vladimir said.
Jessica looked at him. “He’s right, Vlad,” she admitted. She stopped packing for a moment, then sat on the edge of her bed in resignation. “It’s all I can think about, ever since Nathan surrendered.” She looked at him. “How I can rescue him.”
“Then you have a plan?” Vladimir asked, moving toward Jessica. He sat down on the bed next to her. “You must tell me.”
“That’s just it,” she said, her voice quivering. “I don’t. I can’t think of any way to rescue him, at least none that have the slightest chance of success.” She looked at him, tears in her eyes. “The most I could hope for is to get to him and kill him myself, to end both our suffering.”
“Well that’s a terrible plan,” Vladimir said, putting his arms around her to console her.
“I know, right?” she sobbed. “I don’t know what to do, Vlad.”
“You have to let him go, Jess,” Vladimir replied. “We both do.”
“I can’t,” Jessica cried. “I can’t.”
* * *
Nathan sat quietly in the small, nondescript interrogation chamber. It was the first time in two days he had not been strapped to a table, hooke
d up to tubes and wires. It was also the first time in just as long that his brain had been clear enough to think straight.
He glanced at the small bubbles in the corners of the room. Four of them, each undoubtedly housing cameras and microphones, possibly even other types of sensors to monitor his physiological responses to the questioning. But why? He was quite sure the Jung had methods of information extraction far superior to simple questioning. Their nanites had been able to turn loyal members of the Alliance into saboteurs. Such saboteurs had cost the lives of untold numbers, including that of his trusted bodyguard and friend, Sergeant Jerome Weatherly.
The war between the Corinairan and Jung nanites had only been raging within him for two days, yet Nathan was already having problems piecing together his memories. It was a constant conflict between his desire to remember his own life, and his responsibility to forget anything that could be of value to the Jung. He did not want to lose who he was to the Corinairan nanites that were currently trying to destroy the very memories that defined him, yet he knew it would be a losing battle in the end. Worse yet, it was one he had to let happen, despite his natural instinct for self-preservation.
Instead, he tried to focus what little cognitive abilities he seemed to have at the moment on anticipating what was about to happen. Would it be one or two interrogators? Would they play the classic friend and foe roles? Would the interrogator try to trick him into revealing information? Or would they offer him something in trade, like his own life?
Name, rank, service number. He kept repeating it in his mind.
The door opened without warning, revealing an older, distinguished looking man, dressed in what appeared to be business attire for Nor-Patri. He paused to look at Nathan, then turned to close the door behind him. “You should know that this room is equipped with automated restraint fields,” the man began. His English was perfect, if heavily accented. “Should you attempt to harm me, you will become immediately and painfully incapacitated.”
