by Ryk Brown
* * *
“Captain on deck!” the security officer at the entrance to the command briefing room barked as Cameron entered the compartment.
“As you were,” she instructed, before anyone could rise to their feet. She moved to her usual spot at the head of the table, but did not sit. The chair to her left, the one usually occupied by her executive officer, Commander Kaplan, was conspicuously empty. Cameron looked at the faces of her senior staff, gathered around the table, expecting their usual morning briefing. For a moment, she wondered how many of them already knew what she was about to say, about how their lives were about to change. But she could not dwell on such things. She could not dwell on the fact that she was about to give up her command…her ship, without being required to do so. She had once trusted Nathan completely, and it was a trust that had not only been duly earned, but had also come as a complete surprise to her. She hoped he was still the same man, the one whom she had trusted so many years ago. Unfortunately, only time would tell. But the people of the Pentaurus sector did not have the time to spare, and of this, she was quite certain. Just as she had been forced to eight years ago, Cameron Taylor was about to take a leap of faith.
She took a deep breath and began. “Before this briefing starts, I have an announcement to make. First, however, I’d like to say a few words to all of you. Each of you chose to break every rule in the book, and to violate the very oath you swore to uphold. Some of you even left loved ones behind to do so. And you did this simply because I told you it was the right thing to do. For that confidence in me, I shall be eternally grateful. And I want you to know that I do not take your confidence in me lightly. Because of that, the decision I made was probably the most difficult of my entire career, if not my life. I only hope you will have as much faith in my decision as I do.”
Cameron took a deep breath before continuing. “Effective immediately, I am turning over command of the Aurora to Nathan Scott.” Cameron looked at her senior staff, scanning their faces, expecting looks of surprise and confusion, but saw none.
“We already know,” Commander Verbeek confessed.
It was Cameron who had the look of surprise. She looked at Vladimir, sitting at the other end of the conference table, smiling.
“Don’t look at me,” Vladimir insisted.
“It was Josh Hayes,” Commander Verbeek corrected. “He was telling everyone in the mess hall last night.”
“I see,” Cameron said, annoyed.
“Where are Kaplan and Vidmar?” Lieutenant Commander Shinoda wondered.
“Commander Kaplan is taking over as the Mystic’s full-time executive officer,” Cameron explained. “Lieutenant Commander Vidmar is bringing our new chief tactical officer, Lieutenant Commander Jessica Nash up to speed on the Aurora’s weapons systems.”
“Who’s XO then?” the lieutenant commander wondered.
“What, Josh didn’t tell you?” Cameron quipped.
“Actually, I didn’t even hear you were passing command to Scott,” Lieutenant Commander Shinoda admitted. “I’ve been going over recon data all night.” The lieutenant commander could see the surprise in her face. “Nothing surprises me, Captain. You know that.”
“Right.”
“So, who’s XO, then?” Commander Verbeek asked.
“I am,” Cameron replied.
“Now, that surprised me!” Lieutenant Commander Shinoda exclaimed. “Alright, it didn’t really.”
Cameron looked a bit flustered, having expected a more dramatic moment.
“Captain, we understand why you’re handing over command, and we all agree with you on this,” Commander Verbeek explained. “No insult intended, sir, but Nathan Scott is the right person for the job at the moment.”
“Very well, then,” Cameron began. “Gentlemen, I give you your new commanding officer, Captain Nathan Scott.”
Nathan entered the command briefing room, in uniform, sporting his captain’s insignias, trying desperately to hide his uneasiness.
“Captain on deck!” the security guard at the door barked again.
Everyone in attendance rose to their feet, and began clapping.
Nathan looked at their welcoming faces, each a vote of confidence in him, and all his fears suddenly faded away.
CHAPTER FOUR
“You asked to speak with me?” Michael announced as he entered the underground lab where Birk and Cuddy had been working for the last week. “Is something wrong?”
“On the contrary,” Birk replied. “I think I’ve solved the problem.”
“We’ve solved the problem,” Cuddy corrected him.
Michael looked at them both, surprised. “You only started on this yesterday, and you said it would be more difficult because we needed it to be general broadcast, rather than point-to-point.”
“I know, but after we broke the problem down to basics, we realized what was needed wasn’t a general broadcast from the ground, but, rather, from space.” Birk moved to the airborne drawing space along the far wall, swiping his hand in the air to erase the sketches already hovering before him. “Update version number, and save all with same name,” he instructed the computer as he swept the floating drawings away with his hands. “New drawing,” he instructed as he started sketching in the air.
Michael looked at Cuddy.
“Watch, this is good,” Cuddy urged, smiling.
“Communications between all surface-based units is accomplished at three different levels,” Birk began. “If the link is between comm-units in the same geographical region—say, within the same city—the signal is routed via local comm towers, using the relays closest to each comm-unit. If both comm-units are on the surface, but in different geographical regions, like different cities, then the comm-relay routes the signal to the sat-net in orbit, which then sends it either directly to the comm tower relay nearest the other comm-unit, or if that unit is out of range, to the next satellite in the network, and so on, until it reaches a satellite that can reach the surface relay closest to the other comm-unit.”
“Unless the comm-unit is not within range of a surface-based comm-relay,” Michael added.
“Precisely,” Birk agreed. “And if the other comm-unit is not on the surface, but rather in space, then the signal is routed outward. If the other comm-unit is in a ship, the signal is sent via point-to-point link. If the other comm-unit is on another planet in the Darvano system, the signal is carried by a jump comm-drone. Same thing if the other comm-unit is located outside of the system, which of course takes longer.”
“I already know all this,” Michael assured him. “How does this relate to our problem?”
“The answer is in the routing algorithm,” Birk continued. “If the satellite knows the other comm-unit is in space nearby, but doesn’t know exactly where in space the other comm-unit is, it can’t initiate a point-to-point link, because it doesn’t have any coordinates.”
“At which point the system returns an ‘unable to connect’ signal back to the initiating comm-unit,” Michael said.
“It used to be that way,” Birk explained, “but that changed a few years ago. Now, the system first initiates a general broadcast, hoping the intended receiving comm-unit will pick up the broadcast and return its location data, so the point-to-point link can be made, and the connection can be completed. Instead of ‘unable to connect’, you get ‘connection delayed, searching for target comm-unit’. The system keeps the link initiation request active for several hours, rebroadcasting the link request every few minutes, before automatically canceling the request.”
“And how does that help us?” Michael wondered.
Birk gestured to Cuddy. “It was Cuddy’s idea, really.”
Michael looked at Cuddy for an answer.
“We embed the message in the link request,” Cuddy explained.
“And the Dusahn won’t notice this?”
“There are literally thousands of link requests being sent out into space every minute,” Cuddy assured Michael. “Who is
going to notice one more, even if it does have a bit more data in the link string than usual?”
“And the extra data would be encrypted anyway,” Birk added.
“But if they did notice it, they’d trace it back to the initiating comm-unit, which would be ours,” Michael surmised, pointing out the flaw in their plan.
“Unless we use the same trick we came up with to cover our secure comms,” Birk told him.
Michael’s eyes lit up. “That just might work.”
“Of course it will work!” Birk declared.
“If the intended recipient knows to be on the lookout for the link requests with extra data tagged to them,” Cuddy admitted.
“Aren’t the Karuzari monitoring all comms traffic in the Darvano system?” Birk asked.
“We would assume so,” Michael agreed.
“Then sooner or later, they’ll catch on to what we’re doing,” Birk insisted. “And once we have two-way communication, we can devise something more elaborate…one that is even more secure.”
Michael smiled. “How soon can you be ready to send a message?”
“About an hour,” Birk suggested, looking to Cuddy.
“Two at the most,” Cuddy added, always choosing to be more conservative than his cohort.
“Outstanding,” Michael congratulated. “The two of you may have just given us the one tool that will help get this rebellion started.”
* * *
“I would suggest we cross-train every pilot aboard to fly every ship aboard,” Commander Verbeek told Nathan and Cameron as they walked through the flight operations support deck toward the ramp. “Not just the active ones, either,” he continued. “I’m talking about every pilot period. Officers currently not serving as pilots included.”
“How long will that take?” Nathan wondered.
“It’s not much of a jump between Eagles and Reapers,” the commander stated. “So, all my pilots can be cross-trained in a matter of weeks, depending on our operational load. People who aren’t actively flying will likely take a bit longer.”
“By that logic, we’re going to have to train everyone how to fly the Seiiki, as well,” Nathan said.
“And the Ranni shuttles,” Cameron added.
“How soon are we expecting the first two?” Commander Verbeek wondered.
“In a few days,” Cameron replied.
“How are we going to pick them up?” Nathan wondered. “The Seiiki is already in overhaul.”
“And we can’t spare any shuttles,” Cameron added. “They’re too busy running personnel and cargo between ships.”
“Maybe we can send one of the boxcars with a couple extra pilots?”
“I’d rather send something with weapons,” Nathan told them.
“Why?” Cameron asked.
“Because I’m going along with them,” Nathan replied.
“Why?” Cameron repeated.
“Because I want to work on convincing those Gunyoki racers to join us,” Nathan explained. “Besides, I am a pilot.”
“Maybe we’d better start by teaching you how to fly a Reaper, Captain,” Commander Verbeek suggested.
“Let’s teach Jessica, as well,” Nathan suggested.
“I wasn’t aware the lieutenant commander was a pilot,” Commander Verbeek said.
“Neither was I,” Cameron agreed.
Nathan paused at the base of the ramp, turning back toward Cameron and Commander Verbeek. “She’s not, but she should be. And get Josh and Loki in the sims, as well. I want flexibility as to who flies what on the way back.”
“I’ll see to it, sir,” Commander Verbeek promised.
“Thank you, Commander,” Nathan said, turning to continue up the ramp.
Cameron followed Nathan toward the command deck as Commander Verbeek continued on his own toward the main hangar bay. “It might take more than a few days for Jessica to learn how to fly a Reaper,” she warned Nathan.
“I suspect Jessica can do anything she wants, once she puts her mind to it,” Nathan insisted. “Besides, we’ll just stick to the basics for now, and teach her how to use the auto-flight systems…nothing fancy.”
“I’m not sure that will…”
“It’ll have to be,” Nathan insisted, cutting her off. “Don’t worry, Cam. Jess will be my last choice as a primary pilot, for now.”
“Of course.”
Nathan sighed. “I have to admit, this day has been exhausting. Is it always this way?” he asked as they reached the top of the ramp and headed forward.
“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you on your first day back, Nathan,” Cameron apologized. “I just figured you’d want to get up to speed as quickly as possible.”
“You’re right, of course.”
“Glad to hear it,” Cameron said. “Because I left you a collection of files to study. There have been a lot of changes to the Aurora over the last seven years, and her crew has been taught a lot of maneuvers and procedures that you’re not aware of.”
“So, I’ve got a lot of homework, then,” Nathan surmised.
“Tons.”
Nathan looked at her. “You’re really making me earn this, aren’t you?”
Cameron smiled back as they entered the Aurora’s bridge.
“Captain on the bridge!” the guard at the entrance barked.
“Status?” Nathan asked Lieutenant Commander Vidmar and Jessica, both of whom were at the tactical station at the moment.
“No contacts to report,” the lieutenant commander replied. “Long-range threat board is clear.”
“Very well,” Nathan replied. “Mind taking the conn for awhile, Captain?” he asked Cameron. “It seems I have some studying to do.”
“Actually, I was planning on taking some time to move into the XO’s quarters,” Cameron told him. “Have fun, sir,” she added, turning to exit.
Nathan sighed. “It seems you have the conn, Lieutenant Commander Nash.”
“Aye, Captain,” Jessica replied with a smile.
* * *
Miri entered the president’s office, moving immediately to his desk and activating the sound suppression field. Every conversation in her father’s office was automatically recorded, but there were some things that were left off the record.
President Scott noticed her activation of the field, and set his data pad down to give her his full attention. “What is it?”
“I finally managed to speak with Captain Hunt,” she told him. “Covertly, of course.”
“I’m not familiar with the name,” her father admitted.
“He served with both Cameron Taylor and Nathan. He resigned and took a job as captain of a cargo jump ship, one of many contracted by the Alliance to deliver cargo to our strategic supply depots.”
President Scott leaned back in his desk chair. “The ones that Galiardi insisted we establish, in case of an invasion,” he recalled.
“So that our forces could continue to fight,” Miri finished for him.
“And?”
“He has agreed to help us.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. He has no family ties, and neither does any of his crew.”
“None of them?” the president wondered in disbelief. “Not on the entire crew?”
“Cargo jump ships only have a crew of eight to twelve, and it’s pretty common for them to be composed of single men and women, as they are gone for weeks at a time. They also run without escorts, in order to keep a low profile. All of which lends itself to people without families working as their crews.”
“And when the ship comes up missing?” the president wondered.
“Actually, Captain Hunt had an interesting idea. It will take a little longer to implement, but it might make it possible to get multiple loads to Nathan without discovery.”
“I’m listening,” the president told her, smiling.
“He proposes that they rendezvous with a Karuzari cargo ship within the Sol sector, transfer their cargo, and then return to port as if
they had actually delivered their cargo to its intended destination. As you know, those supply depots are unmanned. So, Captain Hunt believes he could get four, maybe five, loads transferred before anyone catches on. Possibly even more. However, it would require changing several of Captain Hunt’s crew members for ones he can trust. It would also require coordination with several other jump-capable cargo ships, ones provided by the Karuzari.”
“Or one big one that hung around until it was fully loaded,” President Scott suggested.
“That would work, as well, I suppose.”
President Scott thought for a moment. “Captain Hunt does realize he would be violating multiple interstellar cargo regulations, not to mention violating his contract with the Alliance. If he gets caught, he and his crew would be imprisoned for some time.”
“He is aware of that, yes,” Miri promised.
“How did you convince him to help?” President Scott wondered.
“I’m afraid I was forced to tell him everything,” she admitted. “That Nathan is alive, and that Cameron Taylor took the Aurora to help him liberate the Pentaurus cluster.”
Her father suddenly looked concerned. “Are you sure that was a good idea?”
“Captain Hunt knows people,” Miri said. “People just like him…people who would be willing to help Nathan, as well. It may even be possible to get a second ship involved.”
“Then he believed you.”
“Not originally,” Miri admitted. “I showed him the vid-message.”
“I see. What type of cargo are we talking about?” the president wondered.
“Mostly consumables,” Miri admitted. “Food, water, medical supplies, clothing, some energy rifles, and sidearms. But no real ordnance, as that is tracked much more carefully, and is usually only moved by Alliance crews.”
“Well, every little bit will help, I suppose,” the president said with a sigh. “And you’re sure this can’t be traced back to this office?”
“If anything, it will appear as if Captain Hunt and his crew were selling the stuff on the black market,” Miri assured him.
President Scott rose from his chair and walked over to the large picture window behind him, staring out at the city of Winnipeg. “I never thought I’d be smuggling supplies to my own son,” he sighed. “I’m the president of Earth, and the leader of the Alliance Council, and I have to run cargo behind the backs of the military leaders who are supposed to answer to us, to men more honorable than those same men who are refusing to support them. How is that even possible?”
