by C H Gideon
He hesitated, and Director Durgan made no attempt to hide his amusement at Jenkins’ apparent squeamishness. But Jenkins had prepared for this since before arriving on Shiva’s Wrath, and he took the gently-squirming tentacle reverently in his hands before making the appropriate reply. “I accept your offer of friendship and clarity in the hope of promoting future harmony between us.”
With that, he schooled his face into a mask and tried to swallow the ten-centimeter-long tentacle in a single go. Unfortunately, it stuck in his throat partway down, and he was forced to chew the surprisingly tender and tasty bit of flesh a few times before it would go down. He looked around for a blade of some kind, with which to cut himself and offer a small portion of blood as they had come to learn was appropriate when reciprocating the infamous Vorr gesture.
The Vorr’s skin flashed with a rainbow-like array of colors. “We do not expect you to reciprocate the traditional exchange of our people. It is sufficient that you recognize the significance of this gesture.”
“I do.” Jenkins nodded agreeably, forcing himself to avoid thinking about what he had just done so he could focus on the exchange. “Thank you.” He turned to the dead Jemmin in the tube. “What is your issue with the Jemmin?”
“Jemmin do not respect sovereignty,” Deep Currents of Radiant Warmth replied serenely. “We Vorr are mistrustful of outsiders and resisted Jemmin efforts to influence our culture and technology. This angered Jemmin. This Jemmin—” The Vorr turned pointedly toward the dead, misshapen corpse in the cylinder. “—was not like the rest of Jemmin and tried to help Vorr.”
“It gave the Vorr,” Durgan explained, “information which painted a clear picture of how the Jemmin have uplifted several different species throughout the last few thousand years. These uplifts were raised using the same package of technological ‘gifts,’ which the uplifts weren’t even aware they had been given. The proof, which the Vorr and the Zeen recovered together as part of a joint operation on Shiva’s Wrath, was deposited there by this Jemmin shortly before it arrived in Terran space and made contact with my grandfather. This particular Jemmin was appalled by its species’ mistreatment of lesser races.”
“Races like humanity.” Jenkins nodded grimly.
“And the Arh’Kel,” Vorr agreed.
“And at least three others,” Durgan said somberly.
Jenkins narrowed his eyes in contemplation. “I’m guessing the Vorr weren’t among them.”
“No,” the Vorr agreed, “we reached the stars on our own merits, and as a result proved less susceptible to Jemmin interference than less-developed species. We nonetheless attempted to integrate to the Illumination League, as it contained a diverse array of lifeforms with which we might cooperate for mutual gain. But it soon became clear the Illumination League is not a cooperative, but a hostile system used by the Jemmin against species which might threaten its supremacy.”
“There are currently only four member nations in the Illumination League,” Durgan explained. “The Jemmin, the Solar humans, the Finjou, and the Brek. The Finjou and Brek rarely come out of their home star systems, much like the Solarians…” he said leadingly.
“Which means,” Jenkins concluded, “that even if the Finjou and Brek are two of the other species the Jemmin uplifted, which judging by their behavior being similar to the Solarians seems likely, then…” He felt a shiver run down his spine at the implications of his thought’s natural conclusion.
“The third uplifted species is no longer accounted for,” the Vorr finished for him, her voice filled with sorrow and regret. “We have searched for this species, but the Jemmin control the only vessel capable of transporting the wormhole gates at speeds exceeding the light barrier. We must conclude that this species no longer exists.”
Jenkins closed his eyes as he processed her meaning. “You’re saying they might have killed off this third species and then removed the gate leading to its star system, essentially erasing all traces of their existence?”
“That’s our best theory, yes,” Durgan agreed. “Eventually, every advanced civilization’s activity leaves evidence that’s easily detectable, even at distances of tens of thousands of lightyears. But during the time it takes that evidence to reach us at the speed of light, there won’t be a single clue outside the Jemmin databanks that they ever existed.”
This was a lot to process, but Jenkins did his best to keep his feet firmly beneath himself while he considered the information being presented to him. Eventually, he formulated what was probably the most important question on his mind, which he put to the Vorr as candidly as he could.
“The Terran Republic is tiny,” he said emphatically. “We have a few dozen dreadnoughts, yes, but the Illumination League has thousands of warships. What use can we be to any Vorr plan that hopes to deal with the Jemmin?”
“We do not require Terran help to address the Jemmin problem,” the Vorr said confidently, and Jenkins wasn’t sure whether he should be more relieved or concerned to hear those words.
“This isn’t about the Vorr, Colonel,” Durgan said tightly. “It’s about humanity’s survival…and it’s about preventing a holocaust from wiping our species from the cosmos.”
“I don’t follow,” Jenkins said warily.
“We cannot, in good conscience,” Deep Currents of Radiant Warmth explained, “initiate action against the Jemmin while they hold your entire species hostage, as we believe it currently does. The Terran Republic is small, yes, but you hold the future of your species in your hands.”
“There is a planet,” Durgan explained, “which the Vorr think contains direct evidence of the Jemmin conspiracy. Even more important than the evidence, they are convinced there is a piece of technology there which will help us to save humanity from extinction at the hands of the Jemmin. The Vorr can’t risk being detected at this world for fear that the Jemmin will intercept and destroy the prize. I’ve already prepared the excavation equipment you’ll need for the dig. Bring back that tech, Colonel Jenkins, along with the evidence,” he said, his eyes blazing passionately, “and together, we can preserve the future of the human race and ensure Terran independence.”
“And what do you get out of this, Director Durgan?” Jenkins asked. “You’re obviously a patriot, but you’re putting your entire legacy and empire on the line. The contentious report launched by your new news network, the overt support of Armor Corps when the rest of the Terran government wants to sweep us under the rug, and now exposing me to enough information to sink you and your company indefinitely if I decide to go public? What’s your aim, Director?”
Durgan met Jenkins’ gaze steadily, and when he spoke, Jenkins was surprised to find that he believed what the other man said. “The Terran Republic has been exceptionally good to my family, Colonel. We have prospered unlike any other in human history, and it was made possible because of the most fundamental principles upon which our Republic was founded: justice, liberty, self-determination, and the freedom to chase the horizon no matter how dangerous that chase might be.” He shrugged, for the first time looking very much like just another human instead of the wealthiest person in all history. “I want to safeguard the opportunity for others to do as I have done—nothing more, nothing less—and if that means personally taking hold of the reins of government…well, that’s something I’m prepared to do.”
“Every tyrant in history has said something similar,” Jenkins said grimly.
“True,” Durgan agreed, “and I expect my coming weeks and months to be fraught with danger. In fact,” he added pointedly, “I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if this was the last time you and I ever spoke, Colonel.”
Jenkins eyed the other man skeptically. “You think someone might try to assassinate you?”
“Might?” Durgan scoffed. “No, Colonel Jenkins. I receive credible attempts on my life at least once a week. But I expect those attempts to increase in both frequency and severity as I begin the work of peeling back the carefully-woven layers of corrupti
on which conceal the rot in our Republic’s government. Which is why—” He produced a data slate. “—I’ve arranged a series of meetings for you with some of my friends, associates, and even rivals who might be persuaded to provide material support for your cause.”
Jenkins looked down at the slate, knowing that by accepting it, he was crossing a line from which there was no return. Director Durgan had committed nothing short of treason by secretly conspiring with the Vorr, and if evidence leaked about that conspiracy, it would taint everyone and everything which had ever touched Durgan Industrial Enterprises. As a military officer, Jenkins had sworn an oath to abide by the Terran Armed Forces Code, which included reporting potential threats to Terran sovereignty such as the one he had just discovered in the form of the Durgan-Vorr alliance.
But he had also sworn an oath to uphold the Terran Constitution and everything it stood for, and as he looked down at the data slate, he made the only decision he knew with every fiber of his being that he could live with.
Taking the slate in his hands, Jenkins said, “I’m going to need to include both Styles and Xi on this.”
“Styles, yes,” Durgan agreed. “But Xi…she’s too high-profile and, to be blunt, too unpredictable. She’s young, reckless, and has a history of flouting authority.”
“She’s also the finest young officer I’ve had the privilege to serve with in my entire career,” Jenkins countered, “and is the future of the Metal Legion. If you’re right about this evidence and technology holding the key to saving humanity from the Jemmin,” he said, waving the data slate, “and if I’m going to need to go fundraising while my people begin to dig for it, then she needs to know what her mission really is when I deploy her at the head of my battalion.”
“Battalion?” Durgan scoffed. “Colonel Jenkins, you didn’t really think I’d send you on a mission to save the species with a mere battalion, did you?”
Jenkins eyed the other man for a moment before scanning the first screen of the data slate’s contents. His eyebrows rose in surprise at what he saw. Over a hundred mechs were listed there, and while it was clear many of them would need significant work to bring them to combat-readiness, at least two full companies were already at that level. Most of those vehicles were currently under lock and key at facilities whose owners he guessed were on the list of names Durgan had assembled for the “fundraiser” drive.
“I still need to inform Xi,” Jenkins said firmly after reviewing the itemized list.
Durgan seemed to consider the matter before extending his hand. “You’re the field commander, and I think it’s clear from the product of this meeting that I’m officially all-in, so if you think Xi can be trusted, then I’ll support that decision. I’m content to let my fate, and the fate of our Republic, rise and fall on your efforts. Are you?”
Put that way, Jenkins was unable to keep a knot from forming in his throat before he clasped the other man’s hand. “Yes, I am, Mr. Durgan.”
“Then let’s do this,” the magnate declared.
Epilogue: A Heart-to-Heart
Xi sat outside Colonel Jenkins’ office awaiting her CO’s return to the Dietrich Bonhoeffer following a short, previously unscheduled trip off-ship. No one knew where he had gone when he left four hours earlier, save General Akinouye who had personally authorized his sojourn.
Twenty minutes ago, Xi had received a priority summons to Colonel Jenkins’ office, only to arrive and discover he was not yet back aboard the assault carrier. Whatever he wanted to discuss with her was important, but the lack of company awaiting his arrival filled her with more than a little trepidation.
The outer door slid open, and Xi reflexively stood as Chief Styles entered the office’s cramped waiting room, holding a stack of data slates. “Captain.”
“Chief,” she replied, and together, they sat on the short bench outside Jenkins’ inner office door.
“What’s this about?” she asked.
“I don’t have a clue,” Styles replied. “But I do know he wanted our full personnel roster, vehicle status report, list of incoming transferees, and just about everything else he’d need for a full review of the battalion’s status.”
Xi felt her guts tighten at hearing the suggestion they might be undergoing a formal review. Such a review could take months to complete, and it would effectively ground the entire unit. They had fought so hard to navigate the perils of Shiva’s Wrath, but despite their efforts and the bit of unexpected good fortune with Ms. Samuels’ report, the early indications were that they had failed.
Fleet had won the political war, and now the Metal Legion would know what it was like to be defeated without firing a single shot.
Her mood darkened with each passing second while she and Styles sat in silence for several long, frustrating minutes.
Then the door suddenly swished open, and through it passed Lieutenant Colonel Lee Jenkins, whose purposeful strides never faltered as he made for the office’s inner door. “Captain, Chief,” he acknowledged without making eye contact. The door automatically opened before he reached it. “In my office.”
Xi and Styles shared a worried look before following their CO. When the door slid shut behind them, she couldn’t help but vent her frustration. “I can’t believe Fleet would do this to us, Colonel. A week ago, nobody even knew Armor Corps existed, but now? It’s got a popularity rating nearly as high as the Marines! We’ve received thirty thousand unsolicited enlistment submissions since the report went public, and it’s only a matter of time before the Senate has to authorize a budget that expands the Legion...”
“I hate to cut short a good tirade, Captain,” Jenkins interrupted with a bemused grin she only noticed after he had spoken. “But I’m on the clock here. My shuttle departs in eighty minutes, and we need to use that time as effectively as possible.”
“Shuttle, sir?” Styles pressed, proffering the data slates. Unexpectedly, Colonel Jenkins not only declined to accept them, but he gestured for Styles to hand them to Xi.
Xi recoiled in alarm. “They took your command?”
In spite of his serious expression, the colonel let out a short laugh. “No, Captain. But time isn’t on our side, and the quicker we get off the blocks, the better our chances will be.” He gestured again for Styles to hand Xi the stack of slates. “Captain Xi, I’m temporarily placing you in command of the newly-formed Dragon Brigade.”
“Brigade, sir?” Xi asked in confusion as Styles thrust the stack of slates against her chest. “We barely have enough combat-ready mechs to redeploy the battalion.”
“And a battalion is all you’ll be breaking orbit with in twenty-six hours,” Jenkins replied heavily. “But General Akinouye personally approved this restructuring of the Armor Corps to buy us the maneuvering room we need to make our next move.”
“Which is, Colonel?” Styles asked while Xi looked down at the stack of data slates in a mixture of confusion, pride, and despair. Xi Bao didn’t mind fighting and bleeding on the battlefield, and she didn’t even mind dealing with insubordinates and rival officers…
But she absolutely hated paperwork.
“Our next objective—” Jenkins produced a slate of his own. “—is an inhospitable, desert world in Finjou space. We are to convey, deploy, and protect excavation equipment on that world until the excavation effort produces evidence of the Jemmin conspiracy,” he said, causing Xi to unexpectedly flush with excitement, “along with some sort of artifact which might prove useful in exposing the Jemmin.”
“Terran interests aren’t permitted to enter Finjou space,” Styles said warily.
“That’s correct.” Jenkins nodded. “Which is why Armor Corps is sending a full brigade there to bring a band of dissident Terran colonists into compliance.”
“That’s our cover op?” Xi asked, silently thinking it was awfully thin as cover stories went.
“The colonists are real, Captain,” Jenkins assured her, “and they won’t pack up without a fight. But we can expect to encounter a presumab
ly hostile Finjou contingent, and we also need to prepare for Jemmin interference should they discover what we’re doing there.”
“Firing on our own colonists, sir?” Styles said, sounding every bit as squeamish at the idea as Xi felt.
“They broke the law, Chief, and their rebellion against Terran and League authority might kick off an interstellar war,” Jenkins said heavily. “But let me be clear. I don’t like this any more than you do. Unfortunately…” He gestured for them to sit across from him, which they did as he continued. “We’ve got a much bigger problem to solve than a few errant colonists. The fate of humanity is at stake, and right now, the Legion is the only outfit that can make a difference.” He looked back and forth between Xi and Styles with stony determination. “Are we up to the task?”
“Yes, sir,” Xi and Styles replied in perfect unison.
“Good.” Jenkins nodded. “Because what I’m about to tell you next will make your head spin.”
Right on schedule, Colonel Jenkins’ shuttle departed the Dietrich Bonhoeffer en route to a rendezvous with the corporate luxury liner, Endless Oceans. Owned by a Terra Han-based virtual appliance manufacturer, it held offices for a dozen of the Republic’s wealthiest individuals with whom Colonel Jenkins was about to negotiate for material support of the Metal Legion’s efforts.
Xi didn’t know if she should envy or pity her CO for undertaking his latest assignment. Being surrounded by the rich and shameless, who were only ever exposed to the finer things in life, seemed like a dream job in comparison to running a battalion—no, make that a brigade—of the Terran Armor Corps in preparation for a fast-turnaround redeployment.
“I’ll give you a couple hours to go over the reports,” Styles explained. “Meanwhile, I’ll go sift through those thirty thousand enlistment applications. There might be a few gems worthy of plucking fresh off the vine.”
