by Daniel Gibbs
3
Justin Spencer, the President of the Terran Coalition and commander-in-chief of the military, sat on a small couch in his office, referred to as the Oval Office in common vernacular. It was modeled after an American design dating back to their White House. We Americans do tend to take over everything. Sometimes for good, sometimes for evil, but it’s just what we do. The Chief Minister of the Saurian Empire, Obi Sherazi, sat directly across from him; less than three months ago, he’d shocked the known galaxy by joining with the Terran Coalition to reform the Canaan Alliance and declare war on the League of Sol. Saurians were a race of reptilian humanoids who shared the local galactic arm with the humans of the Terran Coalition. The only other people in the room were a single bodyguard from each nation; aside from private time with his family, this was as close to alone as Spencer ever got.
“There is honor in victory,” Sherazi said, breaking into Spencer’s thoughts.
“There can be honor in defeat as well.”
“For a Saurian, defeat means death,” Sherazi replied, the scales on his head flexing.
“For us, there are times when being defeated in a noble fight is still honorable. I think we humans tend to romanticize an unwinnable fight and the people who fought in it.”
“Maybe that explains the fascination with the Alamo I witnessed on the ship I traveled here on; the CSV Sam Houston.”
“She’s named after the first president of the Republic of Texas,” Spencer replied, grinning. “And yes, Texans take the Alamo very seriously. Even though no one has seen Texas for four hundred years! There’s an entire planet of Texans within the American republic.”
“Colorful people. There are so many different types of humans. Different skin colors, different shapes, sizes, abilities,” Sherazi observed.
“Saurians also have many different types, don’t you?”
“Have you ever seen a short Saurian?” Sherazi replied, laughing. “In a bygone era, we simply killed any offspring that didn’t measure up to our ideals. This went on for so long that we bred out many genes. It took a long time for our values to evolve. It took the Prophet to start the process, but we even managed to mess that up. Our leaders killed him, tried to bury his teachings, and it was many generations and hundreds of years before the truth spread.”
“Humans are no different in this arena, Obi. Our history is one of violence, war, genocide, and man’s inhumanity to man. Still, throughout our history, there were always a few who tried to do what was right. They, inspired I believe by God, bent the curve toward freedom, justice, and what we now consider to be morality.”
“It wasn’t so long ago that Saurians believed enslavement was a just punishment,” Sherazi replied.
“Not so long for us either. Heck, there’s a neutral planet beyond our border, made up of humans who believe another group of humans with different skin tones is inferior to them. No race has a monopoly on stupidity.”
“Most of you do not think in that manner, though. I have personally spoken to many of our exchange officers, and I have been consistently impressed by how they were welcomed with open arms into your ranks. Even though we are aliens with a different values system.”
“I’m grateful to hear it,” Spencer replied. “At the risk of sounding like a greeting card, we owe the success of the last two and a half months to the Saurian Empire’s involvement in this war.”
Sherazi waved his hand. “No. We joined , late in the game as you humans say. We should have been there twenty-seven years ago. Perhaps if we had, the League would not have attacked. Perhaps maybe things would have been different. If we had shown power in the face of aggression and stood up for what was right and just, the fight would have been far easier. The Terran Coalition has instead fought on for dozens of years, alone… rather than surrender and accept slavery to the League. As a Saurian who believes in the ideals of honor, allow me to say that never before or since in our history do I believe a people as noble as the Terran Coalition has existed, outside of the Saurian Empire, of course.”
“A human would say that sounded almost Churchillian in tone.”
Sherazi grinned. “A Saurian researcher once wrote a book on the best human leaders and what Saurians could learn from them. Half the book was on Winston Churchill.”
Spencer laughed. “That’s great. Saurians writing leadership books on old Winston. Somewhere, he’s spinning in his grave.” He turned serious as he glanced back at Sherazi and made eye contact. “As much success as we’ve had, the TCMC,” he continued, using the acronym for the Terran Coalition Marine Corps, “is running out of manpower.”
“You need more Saurian ground troops?”
“If we’re to have any hope of recapturing League-held worlds, yes.”
“That is a far harder stream to ford than committing our Imperial Navy assets. There’s something about putting Saurian boots on the ground to help capture human worlds that has incredible internal resistance.”
“I understand. There is a difference between the risk to ships and the optics of tens of thousands of ground troops. Could you help us garrison our border worlds? A lot of TCMC resources are tied down with that task now. If we could free them up…”
“There’s more than one way to catch your dinner. I like the idea, Justin. I will make the proposal to our assembly. Give me a week to press scales and get back to you?”
“Of course,” Spencer replied. “Politics is politics, regardless of our race, eh?”
“Some things never change,” Sherazi said dryly.
“I have something I need to brief you on.”
Sherazi raised a scale over his right eye. “Oh?”
“CDF Intelligence has been working on something for a very long time. I’m sure you’ve read reports speculating about the existence of a League space station between the two galactic arms?”
“Yes. It’s been rumored to be out there for years and years. Our intelligence service believes it’s a figment of your collective imaginations.”
“It’s not.”
“Do you have proof?”
Spencer just smiled widely. “We found it last night.”
Sherazi leaned forward in his seat. “Does Admiral Kartal know yet?”
“No. No one outside of my SecDef, the intelligence officers who found it, their chain of command, and now us, know. We intend to either destroy or capture it. I wanted to brief you privately before informing SHAEF,” Spencer said, using the phonetic pronunciation of the acronym for Supreme Headquarters, Allied Expeditionary Force.
“Make no mistake; the Saurian Empire is with you until we capture Earth itself. I’ll ensure that my people are on board.”
“Thank you, Obi.”
“Major Hanson!” Doctor Benjamin Hayworth shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice bellowing across the cavernous engineering space deep within the Lion of Judah. Also called the engine room, that term had stuck for centuries. Over time, steam turbines were replaced with magnetohydrodynamic generators that transformed thermal energy produced by fusion, and now anti-matter reactors, into power consumable by the ship’s energy grid.
“Yes, Doctor?” Major Arthur Hanson, the Lion’s chief engineer, called back.
“Did you forget our appointment to discuss the reactor designs?”
“No, Doctor. I’m trying to tweak the new parts the contractors put in. Give me a minute,” Hanson yelled from behind one of the massive pieces of machinery. Not like I have anything else to do besides answer Hayworth’s every beck and call, Hanson thought to himself as he closed the panel he was working on and climbed down the ladder back to the familiar deck plating.
Wiping grime off his hands onto the standard issue CDF coveralls that the engineering crew wore, Hanson strode over to Hayworth and crossed his arms in front of him. “Ready, doc?”
“For the last time… don’t call me doc!” Hayworth thundered in return.
Hanson suppressed a smirk, knowing how easy it was to get a rise out of Hayworth. I probably sh
ouldn’t do that, but the man is a complete jerk. Another side of his brain added, Yeah, maybe he’s a jerk because he’s always picked on. “Sorry, Doctor. I’m ready if you are.”
“Good. Follow me,” Hayworth replied, turning on his heel and walking off.
Hanson followed him outside of the engine room proper and to the nearest conference space, the aptly named “Conference Room Snipe,” as denoted by a sign next to the door. It was a reference to the engineering crew’s nickname: the snipes.
Hanson plopped down in one of the chairs, and Hayworth did the same. “Have you reviewed the designs I sent you, Major?”
“Yes. The miniaturization factor isn’t high enough for anything smaller than a heavy cruiser as of yet. Still, installing anti-matter reactors into our fleet carriers and heavy cruisers will be a serious upgrade in both survivability, and in the case of our cruisers, double or triple the firepower.”
“What we need is a new design of ships, not refits of old ones,” Hayworth complained. “Why can’t the military get its mind around the fact that this is bleeding-edge technology, not a refinement of tired old fusion reactors.”
“Doctor, they’re doing the best they can—"
“Oh yes, such a babe in the woods you are. No, they’re not. They’re either stupid, inept, or worse; perhaps they’re corrupt and unwilling to embrace the new technology because they profit off the old.”
“I’m not here to debate it with you, Doctor. I do have some suggestions for improving the miniaturization factor, however.”
“Which are?”
“By integrating the backup coolant loop into the main reactor housing, I believe we can achieve another eight to ten percent size reduction,” Hanson said as he passed his tablet over to Hayworth.
The older man reviewed the schematic for several minutes in silence before looking up. “These ideas have merit. Much more work is required to determine if it's safe to do what you propose, but if so… good job.”
Hanson’s jaw nearly hit the deck after the words “good job” fell out of Hayworth’s mouth. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“Do you have any other suggestions?”
“I’ll send you a file, but most are minor. You’ve taken the technology very far in a short period,” Hanson replied. Working with Hayworth, even with the attitude, is a fantastic opportunity. I’ve learned more in the last three months than I thought I knew about reactor design.
“Good. I have another pet project that the CDF would like me to work on. An enhanced energy weapons capacitor, designed to support the power inputs of an anti-matter reactor, and new model neutron beam emitters that can support double the charge. Elizabeth and I have discussed it, and if you’d like, we have room on the team for you during your off hours.”
That was unexpected. “Uh, sure. I’d love to, Doctor. What role would I take on the team?”
“Research assistant.”
And back down to reality. “You realize I used to lead teams on the Ajax fusion reactor program,” Hanson said, his voice trailing off.
“Of course I realize that,” Hayworth replied, cracking a smile. “You don’t think I’d assign you as a research assistant, do you now, my boy? I was thinking lead investigator for the new materials program around the capacitor. We’ve got some promising candidates of synthetic metals that withstand incredible amounts of heat. I want you to get to the bottom of which one we should use.”
Overreacted, much? “No problem, Doctor,” Hanson said, recovering quickly. “I’d love to help.”
“Well, then, let’s get back at it. I have a remote lecture this afternoon, and I will not be held up,” Hayworth said as he stood. “I’ll get back to you on a time for our kickoff discussion.” Hayworth tossed Hanson’s tablet back across the conference table.
“Thanks, Doctor,” Hanson said to a wave from Hayworth as he exited the room. Fresh challenges await… and more working with the doctor. What could go wrong?
Kenneth Lowe, the resident leader of the civilian defense contractors on the Lion of Judah, an employee of SSI—Stridesclyeth Shipboard Integrators, Limited—stumbled into the officers’ mess after finishing his shower and morning routine. I hate space showers. Less than two minutes of water, you don’t even feel clean afterward. Especially after I force myself through thirty minutes on the treadmill. The contractor team leads, Kenneth, and his direct reports were allowed special privileges to enter and eat at the officers’ mess, one of the perks David had given them after the second Battle of Canaan. This particular morning, he got a mug of piping hot coffee, along with a bagel and low-fat cream cheese.
Taking a seat at a four-person table that was empty and with his back to the room, Kenneth gazed out at the blackness of space. After pausing to pray over his food silently, he took a sip of the coffee and began to perk up.
“Mind if I join you?” the voice of David called out from behind him.
Kenneth quickly set the coffee mug down and stood up. “Of course, sir.”
“Would you stow the ‘sir’ stuff? It's not even 0600, and you're still not in the military.”
“Yes, si… uh.”
David shook his head with a grin and sat down in the chair across from Kenneth. “Sit down.”
Kenneth sat back down and felt somewhat silly. The truth is, I don’t quite fit in here. I’ll never truly be one of them, even if they act like I am. “Having a good morning?”
“Up at 0430… exercised… crappy two-minute space shower, and here we are.”
“About the same as me,” Kenneth observed with a bit of smirk. “On the plus side, they have to salute you.”
“That’s not all it’s cracked up to be, trust me,” David replied before waving at someone behind them. “Lieutenant, over here.”
A moment later, Ruth appeared at the table. She seemed shocked to see Kenneth sitting there. “Good morning, sir.”
“Please, join us.”
“Of course, sir,” Ruth answered.
“I insist. I do have an ulterior motive… I wanted to ask you both how the reactor upgrades are affecting weapons and shields.”
Ruth sat down next to David, on the other side of the table.
“Well, sir,” Kenneth began. “We got the parts in to improve the fuel flow regulators per the new specifications. The implementation team finished that up last week.”
Ruth took a sip of coffee before speaking. “Since then, the engineering crew confirmed we have a six-percent increase in available power.”
“Slightly less than projections… but more than we had two weeks ago. I’ll take it,” David said.
“What’s amazing is the six percent in increased output matches the entire fusion reactor output of an Ajax class destroyer, which was the highest of its size,” Kenneth said as he munched on a bite of bagel.
“Now what?” David asked.
“We’ll continue to upgrade the software around the automated fuel systems. Major Hanson can explain more fully, but my understanding is that there’s several more percent of optimization to be had by improving the machine learning algorithm and exposing it to sustained combat,” Ruth answered.
“Very good.”
Ruth hurriedly drank a quarter of her coffee mug, then jumped up. “If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to get an early start on the bridge.”
“Of course,” David replied. “See you up there in a bit.”
“Yes, sir,” Ruth said before she turned on her heel and walked off.
Kenneth frowned a bit while taking another bite of bagel.
David glanced at him. “That was a bit odd. Lieutenant Goldberg is usually a bit of a chatterbox in the morning.”
“It might be me, sir.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Well, I asked her out a few days ago.”
David’s eyes shot so far open, they looked like they could pop out of their sockets. “You what?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“This is a warship, you know. Not a
cruise boat,” David commented dryly. “I’m taking it that she said no.”
“Yeah. It was just weird. I don’t think I offended her; we’ve just been awkward ever since.”
“I don’t need you being cross-eyed with the TAO. Do me a favor and give her some space for it to become less…awkward?”
“Yes, sir.”
“While we’re on the subject of awkward… Sabrina Blackman sent me a message yesterday.”
As if possessed, Kenneth’s face twisted into a scowl before he could force it back to a neutral expression. “Oh?”
“You’ve got to work on that poker face, Kenneth,” David said with a laugh. “Oh, it was an interesting message. She wanted to remove you.”
“I see.”
“Don’t worry… I hate government civilians even more than I hate most contractors,” David said, punctuating the last word with a snort. “I especially detest civilians that claim to know what they’re doing, make a ton of noise, and don’t know the first thing about the subject they claim to be experts at.”
“Well, sir, my mother used to teach me that if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. So I’ll smile and nod.”
David frowned. “I’m surprised you haven’t come to me about this. I discovered she'd forced some changes to the reporting structure of your team. Daily reports by everyone, four different monthly reports. I’ve never quite seen anything like it. That kind of administrative burden has to be affecting your ability to get things done.”
“Many government overseers like that kind of detail in the paperwork, sir. We didn’t want to pester you.”
