A Gulf in Time

by Chris Kennedy

  “Wait a minute…” Calvin said. “I remember the first time we left Terra, right as we were about to make our first jump through a stargate, you said something about being unique.”

  “At the time, I said it was unlikely any of the species we met would be familiar with me,” Solomon said. “I added that I was the only remaining member of my class, and that I have been unique for longer than many civilizations have existed. That was true, but at the time you did not realize how true. I have always been unique; my builders were killed by the Drakuls before my sister ships could be completed. The Drakuls destroyed them all, leaving me…the only one of my kind.”

  “Well, I don’t believe there have been any issues with your service in the time you’ve been a Terran ship,” Captain Sheppard said, “so I don’t feel the need to change our relationship at the moment; however, we’ll need to redefine some things going forward to optimize how we do business.”

  “That is to be expected,” Solomon replied. “However, do not feel you need to change anything because of what you have learned about my programming. I do not have an ego like Terrans do. As long as my functioning serves to help carry out my prime mission, I am ‘happy,’ or as close to it as an AI can be.”

  “Got it,” the CO said with a nod. “Now that we have that settled, staff meeting in my conference room in ten minutes. We need to figure out what we’re going to do next.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Two

  CO’s Conference Room, TSS Vella Gulf, Anti-Gliese 667C System

  Calvin surveyed the room as the staff seated themselves. Every face was grim…and it was all his fault. He couldn’t take it. “Before the Skipper starts—” Calvin’s voice broke, and he couldn’t continue. He sniffed, regaining control of his emotions, and continued, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. If I had known—” His voice broke again, and he leaned forward to bury his face in his hands.

  Lieutenant Commander Shawn Hobbs, or ‘Calvin’ to his friends, had been given a rod by the avatar of an ancient civilization and the quest of taking it to a number of places. Once he’d completed the quest, a button had illuminated. After much discussion, he’d decided to push it and receive the “prize” he’d been promised for completing the task. Instead of anything beneficial, though, the rod had actually been a communications device, which had summoned the ancient civilization’s Enemy…and the race that had destroyed the galactic civilization in an era gone by. Upon their arrival, the creatures had thanked the Terrans for calling them and had advised the Terrans of their new status: slaves for eternity.

  “You wouldn’t have pushed it if you’d known,” Captain Sheppard said, his voice strong. The tall black man was used to leading, starting with the position of quarterback for the United States Naval Academy, and he’d been the commanding officer of the Vella Gulf for the last several missions. “Besides, you only pushed it because I goaded you into it. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. No one blames you, in any event. We all wanted to see what the prize was; if you hadn’t pushed it, I’m sure anyone else on the bridge would have.”

  “But I don’t get it,” Calvin said, red eyes looking up from his hands. “If I’m supposed to be some sort of hero, why would I push the button and be the person who called the Enemy? I’m no hero; I’m a moron.”

  “If you hadn’t been the person to push the button,” Steropes replied, “someone else eventually would have. Possibly someone less able to deal with the aftermath. Maybe you pushed the button because you’re the only one who’s capable of leading us to victory over them.”

  “But they’re invincible!” Calvin exclaimed. “Didn’t you see them? If the Progenitors couldn’t beat the Enemy with all the advanced technology they had at their disposal, how the hell are we supposed to?”

  “I don’t know,” Steropes replied. “That’s your job, not mine.” Steropes’ society believed heroes ‘rose’ during times of conflict to lead their societies through the perils, and he had identified Calvin as one of these “heroes.” “Besides, if nothing else, this answers the question of the galaxy’s population,” Steropes said.

  “What question is that?” Calvin asked.

  Steropes was the only one in the room who didn’t appear shaken; if anything, he looked excited. “Scientists have long wondered why every long-running civilization appears to have started at almost the same time. It was statistically impossible. Now we know; they were all systematically exterminated by the Enemy.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?” Calvin asked. “We just unleashed the force that destroyed the Progenitors—a galaxy-wide civilization with far greater technology than we have. That doesn’t make you even a little bit nervous?”

  “Of course,” Steropes replied. “It’s not uncommon for heroes to reach too far and fail in their tasks, and that’s certainly possible in your case; the odds couldn’t be stacked any higher against you. If you fail, there’s no doubt but that we shall all be destroyed.”

  “Exactly!” Calvin cried. “And yet, it doesn’t seem to bother you!”

  “All is not yet lost,” Steropes replied, “and I can tell you a couple of things that may help prepare you for your tasks. First, the Progenitors were a peaceful race. Although they had a higher level of technology, not only wasn’t it focused on war, war itself was outside their thinking. They were psychologically unable to turn their minds to it. That’s a handicap humans in general, and certainly you specifically, don’t have. Humans are born and bred to combat; thus, you’re more prepared to deal with the Enemy than the Progenitors would ever have been.”

  “That makes sense, I guess,” Calvin said with a shrug, “but we’re still faced with overwhelming odds.”

  “Indeed,” Steropes said. “Which is why I know we’ve finally come to the real purpose for your existence at this time and place. The Drakul and Shaitan wars were nothing more than the opening acts in the drama that is your life. They were meant to prepare you for this task—nothing more, and nothing less.”

  “Task!” Calvin yelled. “We’re faced with an unstoppable enemy!”

  “Yes, but weren’t the Drakuls and the Shaitans both unstoppable, too, before you found ways to beat them?”

  “That’s different!”

  “Is it really? I don’t think so. This brings me to my third and final point. You need to change your perspective; you’re approaching the situation all wrong. Based on everything Einstein told us, you’re right; we can’t face them head-on.” He gave Calvin a half-smile. “I believe the results would be sub-optimal.”

  “Well, that’s a great big no-shitter,” Calvin said, thinking back to what the Progenitors’ computer program had told him. “We can’t fight the Enemy straight-up, ship for ship. We’d be slaughtered as soon as they came in range. And we have no idea how far ‘in-range’ is. We know nothing about them!”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Steropes said. “Think of every method you can for dealing with the Enemy and start eliminating the plans that won’t work. Whatever’s left is what we need to do. Think of something new…an oblique approach. That’s what you do best.”

  “An oblique approach.” Calvin sighed. “Whatever the hell that is.”

  “Look at how Solomon was able to overcome the Enemy. He didn’t try to match their power with power; instead, he found a way to defeat them that didn’t involve taking them head-on. It was an oblique approach.”

  “The first time we encountered them,” Solomon said, “I was unprepared for the attack. I had never experienced anything like it. This time, I expected it and was ready. Well, more ready than last time, anyway.”

  “Yeah,” Calvin said, “and it still kicked your ass. If we get it wrong against them, there’s not a lot of room for error. They are so much more powerful than us; if we make one mistake, we’ll all be dead.”

  “Yes, the Enemy was again victorious this time, but as Steropes noted, this time I was ready. When the dead man’s switch activated, it also imaged the code in my s
ystem and then rebooted me. I now have a digital image of part of the intruder program.”

  “So you can defend against it?”

  “No,” Solomon admitted. “At least not yet, anyway, but now I have something to work with.”

  “Okay,” Captain Sheppard said, “until we figure out what Steropes’ oblique approach is, we have certain priorities we need to accomplish. First and foremost, we need to get the word back to Terra as soon as possible. The government needs to know so they can decide our course of action, and Fleet Headquarters needs the information so they can begin planning our defense.”

  “You don’t think they’ll cave in and help them?” the DSO asked.

  “No, I don’t. I expect we’ll fight, but hopefully not on our own; another reason for going back is we need to let the other races know. I’d much rather plan for a joint defense than have them show up and tell the Mrowry they need to sacrifice almost all their population without us there to help.”

  Captain Sheppard looked down the table to where Lieutenant Rrower, the ambassador from the felinoid civilization, was stretching his claws. “There are some things I just won’t do,” the CO continued. “Royal family or not, that’s one of them.” Captain Sheppard had recently been adopted into the royal family for all matters, except succession to the throne, when he became a brood brother of Lieutenant Rrower’s father.

  “That is good,” the Mrowry officer replied. “Our society will never accept this cull; we will fight to the end instead. It is better to die free than to give in to their madness.”

  “I suspect there are a number of races who won’t give in to the demands,” Captain Sheppard stated. “I don’t believe there’s any way the Archons will.”

  Several people around the table chuckled. The Archon race looked like angels, complete with wings and powerful personal auras; they also had similar views to old-time Christian angels, and they’d be in direct opposition to anything proposed by creatures who looked like devils.

  “That’s our secret weapon,” Farhome said. He giggled for a second, then added, “The Archons will bore them to death, allowing us to get on with our lives. Heehee.”

  Calvin sighed and looked at his self-appointed protector. The Drow was one of the Aesir—an elf-like race that was part of the Alliance of Civilizations, along with the Mrowry and the Archons. An Eco Warrior, Farhome could use nanobots to affect living things, including changing his shape at will. He was also mostly sane…most days.

  “None of them will know what’s coming, though,” the CO continued, having learned that ignoring Farhome was usually the best course, “if we don’t get out of here and make it back. Anyone got any ideas for how best to do that? Steropes?”

  “As has already been discussed,” Steropes answered, “I don’t believe fighting them is the best choice.”

  “No shit,” the DSO muttered.

  “We obviously can’t stay in this universe, either,” Steropes continued, “so our choices are limited. My advice would be for us to head toward the stargate at our best speed, and only jump back into our universe at the last minute. As the gate is five light-minutes from our present location, that should give us five minutes before they can see us and react.”

  “Assuming they stay in their present position,” Calvin noted.

  “Correct.”

  “And what would you do if you were the enemy?” Captain Sheppard asked.

  “Me?” Calvin asked. “I’d be busting my ass to get to the stargate and block it. We’ve got to get through it, and they’re probably aware of that necessity, even if they don’t know where we’ve gone. It’ll take 20 years to get to Terra via our normal drive; we don’t have that kind of time.”

  “And we have to assume they can travel faster than us,” Captain Sheppard stated, “which means they’ll be waiting at the gate for us.”

  “Yeah,” the DSO said. “Maybe we could just jump back to our universe on top of them. If we interposed on them, we’d probably cause them a lot of damage, if not destroying them outright.”

  “I’m not a fan of suicide,” Captain Sheppard said, “but that’s not a bad idea, if we could be sure we would kill them. The only problem with that strategy would be that if we don’t finish them off, they’d show up at Terra with no warning.”

  “Or start the cull with someone else,” Calvin said. “The Ssselipsssiss would probably help them if it meant saving their civilization.” Although the Terrans had come to an uneasy truce with the lizard-like aliens, the Ssselipsssiss civilization had been devastated and—even at the best of times—the aliens thought of themselves first. The only self-sacrifice Calvin had seen them make was a father who got killed providing a diversion so Calvin and his five children could escape an invasion. The children were still in Calvin’s care, as he’d accepted responsibility for raising them. The task was complicated, as they had spent their childhood training to assault and pacify enemy civilizations. Like Calvin’s own.

  “They probably would help the Enemy,” the CO agreed, “if it meant saving their scaly hides. We’ll hold that plan for the future, but it’s a last resort. Besides, space is big, and interposing on them would be difficult, to say the least.”

  “Mathematically impossible,” Solomon added.

  “Agreed,” Steropes said. “Without jumping back to see where the enemy is, there’s also no way to know ahead of time how to avoid them, and if we do that, we let them know where we’re going, potentially allowing them to either move out of the way or intercept us.”

  “Which is also unsatisfactory,” the CO noted. He looked up to the overhead and asked, “What do you think, Solomon?”

  “If the overriding objective is to report back to headquarters, our best chance of escape would be to stay in this universe and jump back at the last possible moment. I find it likely the enemy will be close by the gate, but not directly in front of it.”

  “Why’s that?” the Gulf’s operations officer, Commander Dan Dacy, asked.

  “If you knew a ship was coming at a sizable portion of the speed of light, would you position yourself in its likely path?”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” Commander Dacy replied. “Good point.”

  “Our first priority has to be getting the word back to Terra,” Captain Sheppard said, “and I think a last-second jump into our universe is the way to do it. I agree with Solomon; I don’t think the enemy will be in the way. After that, we head straight to Terra so we can spread the word.”

  “The Senate already hates me; they think I started the war with the Shaitans,” Calvin said, a wry smile on his face. “I don’t think bringing this information back is going to improve my standing with them.”

  “Does anyone have any other questions?” Captain Sheppard asked.

  “I’ve got a manning issue,” Lieutenant O’Leary said. When the CO nodded, he continued, “With all the losses we’ve taken on this mission, the platoon is too damn top-heavy. At the moment, we’ve got four officers and only 14 troopers. If you count Lieutenant Rrower, who’s also available for combat, we’ve got five. With your permission, I’d like to demote myself to senior enlisted for the platoon rather than one of its officers. We need more trigger pullers.”

  “Is this what you really want to do?” the CO asked.

  “It is. I stepped up when the platoon needed an officer, but now you can’t shake a dead cat without hitting one.” He looked at Calvin. “No offense.” Turning back to the CO, he continued, “Besides, I don’t believe the High Command ever really acknowledged or authorized the promotion; it can just be our little secret.”

  “Done,” Captain Sheppard said with a grin. “Welcome back to the Terran Space Marines, Master Chief O’Leary.”

  A smile blossomed across the senior enlisted man’s face. “First damn thing I’ve had to smile about all day,” he noted. “And now, if I die, I’ll die a master chief, just like I ought to.”

  “All right,” Captain Sheppard said. “If that’s it, the meeting is adjourned. Let’s get back
to our divisions and make sure the ship is ready for combat. We’ll make a dash back to the stargate in this universe and jump back just in time to go through.”

  * * *

  Squadron CO’s Office, TSS Vella Gulf, Anti-Gliese 667C System

  “So you finally got what you wanted, eh, Master Chief?” Calvin asked. After several months off the Vella Gulf, Calvin had returned recently and resumed his duties as both commanding officer of the ship’s space fighter squadron, as well as its platoon of Terran Space Marines, although the unit was down to less than half its normal size.

  “Damn right,” the newly-reminted Master Chief O’Leary replied. “Now I can finally get some shit done around here.”

  “You want to get something done? Figure out an oblique approach to killing the damn Enemy.”

  “First of all, sir, let’s stop beating around the bush and calling them the ‘Enemy’ all the time. You know what they are as well as I do. They’re a bunch of damn devils. I don’t know whether to call them Lucifer or Satan or Beelzebub, or one of the other princes of Hell, and I really don’t give a shit. It’s like if we don’t say what they are, they won’t have any extra power over us. Well, they don’t have any undue influence over me; they’re living beings, and if they’re alive, I can kill the motherfuckers. As for your oblique approach, I still don’t have any idea what Steropes was talking about.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you call our solution any more than what you call the devils. Steropes’ point was that I need to come up with something different than going toe-to-toe with them…he thinks I should be going around the problem to come up with a different answer, rather than straight at them.”

  “Sir, maybe the little shit didn’t notice it, but we don’t have time to come up with solutions…we need an answer right fucking now!”