by Tori Harris
Both men nodded solemnly, realizing that there was nothing further to be said on the subject.
“So, Captain Budarin,” Patterson continued, “I assume you are telling me all of this because you believe the shield development team may be able to implement their fix before the Resistance ships arrive?”
“Yes, Admiral. It would, of course, apply only to the Cossack for now. The Koori will still have essentially the same configuration as the Theseus-class destroyers.”
“And is there a risk of the Cossack not making it into space at all if we allow them to proceed?”
“Unfortunately, yes. The team has completed their simulations and believe the fix will work, but integrating it into the ship’s gravitic system will require the AI to be taken offline temporarily.”
“Oh, come on, Marko, that’s easily a twelve-hour procedure, and once the AI is offline, it’s an all-or-nothing proposition. They will either finish on time, or they won’t — in which case she’ll still be sitting in her berth during the battle, just like the other three Navajo-class cruisers at your shipyard. So why are we wasting time talking about this?”
“I know, I know, sir,” Budarin replied apologetically. “Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have even mentioned it, but they insist they can get it done in time to launch and have her in position to meet the Resistance battleships.”
Patterson glanced at the holographic table, noting the positions of the two groups of enemy ships converging inexorably on the Earth. “If they’re wrong, the absence of that one ship, with or without shields, could tip the balance against us,” he said, half to himself.
“Yes, sir. But if they’re right, her presence alone could well prove decisive.”
“It sounds to me as if you are recommending that we take the risk, Captain. And are you literally willing to bet all Human life on the outcome?”
Budarin swallowed hard, feeling the truly staggering implications of the decision resting temporarily on his shoulders alone. “I do not presume to comprehend the full scope of the situation as you do, Admiral Patterson, but yes, under the circumstances, I believe the potential benefits outweigh the risks.”
Patterson stared intently at both officers as his mind ran through a long series of possible scenarios — each one tending to sway him in one direction or the other. In the end, however, his mental “pro and con” list remained frustratingly well-balanced.
“Very well,” he sighed. “Please make it abundantly clear to everyone involved exactly what’s at stake. Also make sure they know that the words ‘there’s not a moment to be lost’ have never been more applicable. I’ll expect to see the Koori in orbit within the hour and the Cossack no later than 1000Z.”
“Aye, sir,” both men replied.
TFS Theseus, Location Willow
(3.3 light years from Earth)
“Ah, good timing, sir,” Reynolds said as Prescott arrived back on the bridge after seven hours of blessed sleep. “Admiral Naftur is on his way up.”
Since the departure of Zhelov and Serapion, for Earth, Theseus had received no new orders from the Flag other than keeping an eye on the original Resistance rally point for additional arrivals while ensuring that their newfound ally, the Hadeon, continued to hold her position at Location Willow. On the plus side, the full day of downtime had allowed her exhausted crew to temporarily stand down from General Quarters and rotate off duty for some critically needed rest.
“I’m amazed that Chen and Turlaka are allowing him back up here so soon. Then again, it surprises me they’ve managed to keep him down for this long,” Prescott said.
“I stopped by once to check on him. He’s done exceptionally well, but they didn’t give him the option of getting out of bed until this morning.”
“Knocked him out, did they?”
“Cold,” she chuckled.
“Listen up, folks, we will render honors to Admiral Naftur when he arrives to welcome him back,” Prescott announced, receiving a chorus of “aye, sirs” from around the bridge in reply.
“By the way,” Reynolds asked, “I assumed it was okay for him to be back on the bridge, but we’ve got this new hyperspace tracking feed posted up on the view screen all the time now. Do we have any restrictions on what we should and should not allow him to see?”
“That’s certainly a valid question, but Admiral Sexton fired off an order right after the shooting that both Admiral Naftur and Ambassador Turlaka are to be extended all the courtesies and access privileges of senior allied officials. So, clearly our commander in chief trusts them both at this point. Granted, we’re not going to be sending them home with engineering schematics or anything, but there shouldn’t be any problem with having them observe operations on the bridge.”
“Understood. I’m assuming they still require escorts, though?”
“Yes, but a single Marine is adequate while aboard ship. At this point, that’s primarily just for their own security and as a simple courtesy. Overall, I think it’s safe to say that they have earned our trust at this point.”
“Agreed. Being willing to lay down your life for someone you only recently met will do that,” Reynolds said.
During their conversation, Prescott noticed that Lieutenant Lee had returned to his post at the Science and Engineering console. Surprised to see him back on duty so soon after his brother’s death, he nodded in Lee’s direction while giving Commander Reynolds a questioning look.
“He’s okay,” she mouthed, nodding silently in reply to the captain’s implied question.
At that moment, the aft bridge entrance door opened to admit Admiral Rugali Naftur, dressed once again in his freshly ironed and mended gray and black utility uniform.
“Admiral on deck!” Prescott announced, prompting every officer present to rise and stand at attention while Naftur made his way to the row of command chairs lining the rear of the bridge. Arriving in front of Prescott and Reynolds, he executed a crisp left face, then returned the two officers’ salutes before offering his hand.
“Good morning, Captain … Commander. It is a pleasure to see you both,” he said, shaking each of their hands vigorously. “It is good to see you all,” he repeated, raising his deep, powerful voice to address the entire bridge. “Please, as you were.”
“I must say you’re looking remarkably well, sir,” Prescott said, looking him over while wearing an expression of amazement that clearly pleased the Wek admiral. It immediately occurred to Prescott that the last time he had seen Naftur looking so energized had been during the heat of combat at the Battle of Gliese 667.
“Hah!” Naftur laughed aloud with a deep, satisfied rumble from inside his massive chest. “You are too kind, young Captain. I do feel quite well, all things considered. I can assure you, however, that in spite of the exemplary care I have received, my body does not hesitate to remind me of my injuries if I venture to move too quickly. The doctors say that most of this will pass within a week, and I should then be allowed to return to more strenuous physical activities.”
“That’s fantastic, sir,” Reynolds said, equally astonished by Naftur’s imposing presence so soon after the shooting. “We’re all very pleased to see you up and around, but I’m sure the doctors have told you to take it easy and not overdo it,” she said, ushering him to a vacant command chair.
“Oh, of course,” he sighed, taking his seat, “as they are wont to do. As I am sure you are aware, Doctors Chen and Turlaka are formidable indeed. Failing to follow their instructions is not a course of action I would recommend. Now,” he continued, his brow furrowing as his piercing eyes took on a grim, purposeful expression, “may I impose on the two of you for a brief update? I have read through the AI’s log entries and believe I have a reasonable sense of what has transpired, but it grieves me to know that I have been unable to offer much in the way of assistance thus far.”
“On the contrary, sir … there,” Prescott replied, nodding to a magnified image of the Hadeon on the view screen, “lies proof of your invalua
ble contributions thus far. Your conversation with Commander Takkar persuaded his crew to withdraw from the Resistance task force and assist us during our battle with the Baldev. It is unlikely we would have been able to prevail without their — and your — help.”
“Be that as it may, I keenly feel the losses suffered thus far on both sides. I also cannot help but wonder whether I might have been able to convince Captain Yagani to stand down as well. The destruction of the Baldev and the Keturah alone represent the loss of nearly twelve and a half thousand souls … all of them surrendered needlessly to the unchecked power of an insidious lie.” Naftur breathed in deeply, attempting to remain calm in spite of the smoldering rage that at times threatened to overcome his normally disciplined mind.
“Together, my friends,” Naftur continued, “we shall protect your world from Commodore Sarafi’s forces. Once that danger has passed, both he and all of those in positions of power who were responsible for bringing about this so-called ‘movement’ will answer for their crimes. You must know, however, that I bear some responsibility in allowing all of this to transpire. I allowed myself the indulgence of believing that my military career represented the highest and best form of service that I could offer the Wek people. I arrogantly ignored traditional leadership obligations, somehow convincing myself that they were outdated, primitive relics with no relevance in a ‘modern’ space-faring society. Worst of all, I recognized the fundamental lack of morality that had become rampant within the Sajeth Collective, but did nothing to stop it. There is little doubt in my mind that my lack of action played a significant role in bringing us to where we are today.”
“Sir,” Reynolds began after a long pause, “we are largely unaware of the details of your military service, let alone the other leadership obligations you mention, but from what we do know, you have dedicated your entire life to honorably serving your people. How much responsibility or blame can be reasonably attributed to a single person for corruption and misdeeds on such a grand scale? You didn’t personally participate in the Resistance movement, so how can you consider any of what they have done to be your fault?”
“Ah, I can answer that question with the words of a gifted Human statesman from another age: ‘… when bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall, one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle.’”
“That’s Burke, correct?” Prescott asked.
“Edmund Burke, yes indeed,” Naftur said. “And his words are as true on Graca today as they were on eighteenth century Earth. Unfortunately, the ‘good men’ to whom he was referring have all too often allowed ourselves to become convinced either that evil does not truly exist, or — even worse — in the moral equivalence of those who justify evil deeds in pursuit of a ‘just’ outcome. I give the two of you my most solemn word that I will never again fail to meet my obligations along those lines. If they will still hear it, I will offer the same promise to the Wek people at my first opportunity.”
“Well said, sir,” Prescott replied, “and for what it’s worth, I feel confident that they will support you in whatever role you envision for yourself going forward — just as we do.”
“Thank you, Captain Prescott. Both of you do me great honor with your kind words, but enough with all of this lofty rhetoric for now,” Naftur said with the hint of a smile returning to his face. “Back to more pressing matters, I could not help but notice the information on your display screen. I still have much to learn regarding your language and symbology, but I believe I understand the fundamentals well enough. Is this data current?”
“If the Guardian spacecraft is to be believed, yes, it is,” Prescott said. That sure didn’t take him long, he thought, both pleased and a little surprised at the return of the admiral’s keen powers of observation so soon after his near-fatal injuries.
“Once again, I am astounded by your world’s technological progress. I have never seen any means of tracking vessels traveling in hyperspace that approaches this level of fidelity.”
“Well, as much as we would like to take credit for developing this technology, it doesn’t really belong to us … not yet anyway,” Reynolds replied. “The Guardian is simply providing us with access to the data while the Earth is under threat of attack. As you can see, the eight remaining ships from the secondary rally point as well as the two Baldev-class battleships we encountered here at Location Dagger will arrive simultaneously in just under eight hours. We assume that the point where their projected course lines meet is their approximate destination. If that is the case, they will transition at 1125Z at a distance of just over seven million kilometers from Earth.”
Naftur stared at the display in silence for some time before speaking again. “Regardless of how you gained access, I believe this information may prove decisive in the coming confrontation.”
“That is certainly our hope,” Prescott replied. “One item of concern we wanted to bring to your attention, however, is the absence of the Gresav. She should have arrived here at Location Willow by now, but she has never appeared on this display, nor have we heard from Captain Jelani.”
“That, my friends, is very good news,” Naftur replied with a satisfied smile.
“You’re not surprised by this at all, are you?” Reynolds asked, eying him suspiciously.
“Surprised? No, I do not believe that is the word I would use. Unfortunately, where the Pelaran Guardian is concerned, we can never be certain of its capabilities without putting our people at great risk. When my small squadron arrived in the Sol system, for example, we knew there was a very real possibility that we would come under attack at some point. Although we went to great lengths to ensure Ambassador Turlaka’s survival in a worst-case scenario, under no circumstances did we expect that our squadron would be decimated within seconds of our arrival — with no warning and no possibility of escape.”
“And yet, the Gresav did manage to escape,” she pressed.
“Yes,” Naftur replied gravely, “and I was forced to watch helplessly as thousands died. The details of that story I will save for another time, Commander. We have become friends, and I sincerely hope that our two worlds will soon become allies. Even if that does happen, however, there will still most likely be some secrets that we choose not to share openly with one another. As I have mentioned before, one of the Gresav’s primary missions was to gather data on the effectiveness of several new technologies. She was equipped to test the effectiveness of various deceptive techniques using hyperdrive transition signatures, for example. She was also fitted with a number of low-observable technologies. Suffice it to say that, if successful, similarly equipped ships might ultimately be capable of executing a surprise attack against a Pelaran ship, hopefully destroying it before it has the opportunity to return fire.”
“So it sounds like the technologies worked pretty well,” Reynolds said with a raised eyebrow.
“The analysis will take some time, as you can imagine, but, as you said yourself, Commander Reynolds, the Gresav survived the Pelaran Guardian’s attack,” he said with something approaching a look of playful amusement on his face. “I would not, however, have expected to see her arrive here at Location Willow.”
“And why is that, sir? Those were the instructions we gave Captain Jelani when our two ships encountered the Guardian near Earth.”
“Yes,” Naftur replied, the corners of his mouth now turning upwards in a rather cunning grin, “but those were not, however, the instructions that I gave him.”
Chapter 19
TFS Navajo, Earth-Sun Lagrange Point 2
(0403 UTC - Combat Information Center - 1.5x106 km from Earth)
“Let me make sure I understand what Naftur is asking,” Admiral Patterson said wearily, struggling to process yet another demand on his already overtaxed attention. “He’s saying that the Gresav never left for Location Willow. Instead, it’s waiting nearby for his signal — most likely somewhere within an hour or so of Earth.”
“Yes, sir,” Captain Davi
s responded, “that’s my understanding as well.”
“So he wants Prescott to give him a ride back into the system, where he will rendezvous with his ship. After that, he wants us to stay clear of the arriving Resistance warships and allow him one last chance to talk them out of attacking?”
“That’s about the size of it, Admiral,” Davis replied with a half-hearted smile.
“I guess a number of responses come to mind, but none that I would utter in polite company. Help me out here, Captain, does any part of that sound like a good idea to you at this point? Haven’t we already tried this approach and failed?”
“That was my first thought as well, sir, and it seems exceedingly more risky here than it was out at Location Dagger. But, if you will recall, Naftur really only got the opportunity to address the captain of one Resistance ship, the Hadeon, and she did ultimately stand down and assist Theseus in the battle against the Baldev. So from that perspective, he’s one for one so far.”
“So you’re saying we should actually consider giving him another opportunity?” Patterson asked, unconvinced.
“Here’s the thing. If we believe what Naftur has told us about their naval doctrine — and assuming, of course, that they follow it — their battleships are unlikely to begin a bombardment of the planet’s surface until all of our forces are out of their way. Sterilizing a planet is apparently a time-consuming process, and they seem to require the establishment of space superiority in the vicinity of their target before they will even attempt it.”
