Lenny picked up the thread, “We have over two hundred years to prepare so we have lots of time to ease the public into awareness in any manner we need to…to ensure their optimal support and optimism for the coming conflict.”
Woodworth changed positions in his chair and cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it won’t be quite as simple as that. The attitudes and customs of the times have to be considered. For instance, fifteen hundred years ago, in the Fourth Empire, most men lived to fight while women had no say, whatsoever, so public support for a war would always be positive. We’ll need to find societies and social structures that resembled ours. But there is a lot of history to choose from and even if there are differences, perhaps we can account for them to some degree.” Both Jan and Lenny had concerned expressions that told Woodworth they had not considered some of these elements.
Jan stubbed her unlit cigarette out in an ashtray she pulled from her drawer, then passed it to Lenny who had walked over to her desk. Jan looked at Woodworth, considering for a moment, then asked, “Do you think what we are trying to do will be possible?”
“Can we find parallels that can guide us? Certainly. Will what we do be based on this work? Can we create the public attitude we’d like to see, and perhaps more importantly, will it last for over two hundred years? The public is a strange beast, and really, it’s impossible to know for sure. I think we need to identify groups that will oppose the war as well as those who are already on board. I think we will need to release facts and/or events over time to rekindle the public’s mind-set.”
Woodworth continued, “Probably the most effective tool we have will be sympathy for what the aliens did to the Loud. We need to figure out how to play this one to the hilt, and how to slowly release each fact at the proper time, again, to pace the information flow so that it lasts. In this case, it can probably last the entire time.”
“Why is that?” Lenny asked.
“A lot of reasons, but one big one is because the light from their star’s explosion will take roughly another one hundred and ten years to reach us, which means that a little more than halfway between now and the alien’s projected arrival, the light from their exploding star will reach us. We’ll be sure to make a system wide event out of it. The initial explosion will be an awesome sight as close as we are. But even after the main explosion fades, the expanding nebula will continue to shine and grow in our night skies for the remaining time. In fact, the expanding nebula will be much more interesting than the initial flash of the explosion.”
“Wow,” Jan muttered. “How sure are you about all of this?”
“We know it will definitely be visible to the naked eye and quite spectacular from viewing it in real time through the Tachyon sensor. But this is not a natural event, that is, it is not a nova which is a nuclear explosion caused by accretion of hydrogen onto the surface of a white dwarf, or a stellar explosion caused by the collapse of a massive star. Somehow the alien destabilized the Loud’s star so badly that three weeks later, it literally fell apart, causing a cataclysmic explosion. This means that the size and brightness of the explosion that will follow will be unlike anything we’ve witnessed before—there will be far more expanding matter than a nova, but less than a supernova so…” Woodworth trailed off as he realized he had lost their attention. He looked back and forth between Jan and Lenny; both were pale.
Jan noticed Woodworth had stopped talking. She cleared her throat and said in a quiet voice, “How can we hope to survive against an alien that can do that to a star?”
The fear and hopelessness in Jan’s voice shook Woodworth because he had experienced the thing himself. And he had expected and prepared for it in others. He rose from his chair and stepped forward, “Hey, we’ll have the help of the Loud. And, we’ll have over two hundred years to prepare.” He waited, knowing what would come next.
It came from Lenny with almost no lag time. “Look what happened to the Loud.”
Woodworth was ready and rounded on him, “But they did not prepare.” He turned and faced Jan again. Saying each word precisely and forcefully, he continued, “They—offered—no—resistance.”
Jan blinked and took a deep breath, then asked, “What do the Loud think of our chances?”
Woodworth had also prepared for this. But this time he would lie. The metallic voice of the Loud translator passed through his mind, you have no chance. No chance at all. He hated the lie but had no choice. “We have every chance,” he said convincingly. Then, more forcefully, “We have every chance in the world of repelling them and of surviving.” Woodworth consciously held eye contact and monitored his facial expression. Jan blinked rapidly as if her mind were changing channels. He saw her relax and take a deep breath. He saw determination replace the hopelessness. Slowly he turned to look at Lenny. The fear seemed gone, replaced with resolve. As he turned again to Jan, he backed up the lie, “The Loud feel that we can win.”
Jan took another deep breath then said, “Okay. Where were we?”
Relief washed through Woodworth – that crisis was past and shouldn’t come up again. He was thankful that it had come so soon and that he had seemingly handled it successfully.
He put his hands on his hips and began pacing a few steps one way, then the other. “Being so close, the explosion of the star will be the brightest object in the sky for months, if not years.” His voice rose slightly, “It will be an icon…a beacon…” he stopped pacing and pointed upwards, “a symbol…shining in the heavens, visible in broad daylight.” He leaned forward placing both hands on the edge of Jan’s desk. “Not only showing the reality of what the alien did to our friends, the Loud, not only a burning image of what they will try to do to us, but also a sign that the alien is coming and, in fact,” he rocked back and rose both hands, palms up, “marking the exact spot in the sky that our enemy will come from.” Both Jan and Lenny’s eyes were wide, imagining the event that Woodworth described.
Woodworth didn’t normally get so worked up. Seeing the look in Jan’s and Lenny’s eyes, he realized how carried away he’d gotten and could feel his face growing red. “Anyway,” he said, waving one hand through the air as if he were brushing away his little outburst, “we have a lot of planning and preparation to do.”
Jan was grinning from ear to ear. She rushed around her desk, and passing Lenny, turned to him and swung an arm out, whacking him in the stomach. An “oof” was audible as Lenny bent slightly forward.
Woodworth, not yet accustomed to their shenanigans, cringed.
Jan, with a large smile on her face, bent over slightly in order to look Lenny in the eyes, “I told you we needed this guy!” she exclaimed. She straightened, turned to Woodworth and grabbed his arm. “Come on, Floyd,” she said as she began marching him out the door of her office, “I’ll take you around and introduce you to everyone! And then…well, I guess we have a hell of a lot to do over the next couple of hundred years.” She led Woodworth out the door.
Lenny was left leaning against the wall still partially doubled over holding this stomach, but he was smiling. He hadn’t seen that one coming and hadn’t tightened up his stomach. She’d gotten him good. Again. And it hurt. But he pushed off the wall, straightened up and, making sure his smile was in place, left to follow after them.
---
Adamarus awoke slowly. Grace was snuggled into his back holding him tightly and their feet and legs were deliciously tangled together. Sex last night had been slow, tender and loving—at first anyway. Not like the two nights before. They had been separated for over a month and the first two nights had been impatient, wild and needful.
He kept his eyes closed, enjoying the warmth and the light pressure of her breath on his back. He faced a window and could tell by the light filtering through his eyelids that it was still early. Yes, it would be very good spending some time close to his family. At first, he had felt guilty about snagging this assignment…but not too guilty, and this had passed as soon as he had walked in the door.
A subtle
shift in the light on the back of his eyelids made him open his eyes. His right eye could only see the pillow and covers, but his left showed a flexed index finger, tucked under and held back by a thumb—like one might flick a bug away—just inches from his nose. Adamarus’ hand shot up and grabbed the small wrist. “Pest!” He muttered.
Nero giggled, “Da—ad! Mom said you had to get up early!”
Adamarus’ smile grew for it was still that wonderful time between sleep and reality when all that his mind knew was the warmth and love for his family and the sound of his child’s laughter. There was only the present and those things within sight.
But, the words “had to get up early” triggered a process that brought an end of that blissful time; why did he have to get up early? He needed to begin important discussions with an alien. Why? They needed to begin the process of creating new super weapons. In under a second, “reality” came into focus and his smile faded a little.
“Dad, what’s wrong?”
The smile went back into place. “Oh, I just don’t want to get up yet.” He felt the bed move.
Grace’s voice was hoarse, “What time is it?”
“Time to get up!” Nero announced again.
Grace was already swinging her legs out of bed. “Hi, sweetheart! Come on,” she grabbed a robe that had been tossed on a chair last night and slipped it on, “let’s get some breakfast!” She took Nero’s hand and as she headed out the door, she looked over at Adamarus and gave him a smile and a wink.
After they left the bedroom, Adamarus stretched and got up.
---
Radin woke up just as the small ram jet banked and lined up with the docking facilities. Anderson Shipyards was positioned over the North Pole and Radin was disappointed that he had slept though the approach. It was supposed to be a spectacular sight and everyone had told him not to miss it. But he had.
Looking out the small view port, all he could see now was the gray steel walls of the space dock passing by the space liner. Then the ship entered the main dock and things got more interesting. Countless ships in their berths lined the walls for as far as he could see, up, down, and to each side. Then the ship turned and the full extent of the massive berthing chamber was revealed. It contained hundreds of ships. The shipyard was as busy as ever building ships, but Radin knew that ninety percent of the ships he saw here were not related to ship construction, but rather a booming business that had developed over the last several decades—tourism.
It had started well before the last war and Skyway Enterprises, who owned and operated the yards, had mostly ignored it. Back then, there had been no facilities, hotels or births to accommodate this unexpected intrusion, and cruise and pleasure ships had simply ‘hung out’ under the huge space platform. Then, during the early part of the war when the conflict was still millions of miles away, the yards had tried to ban the sightseers to little effect. When the conflict moved closer and the first acts of sabotage near the planet appeared, the shipyard employed security to chase the ships away. But this only lent a measure of danger to making a run into the area and hanging out until a security ship headed their way. And they always had enough time to escape.
At the end of the war, Skyway had new management who decided if you can’t beat them, join them. Now almost half of Anderson Shipyards’ profits came from tourism and Skyway, originally only a ship construction company, had branched off into the tourist industry.
With a clang and a hiss, the medium-sized ram jet, capable of seating up to 100, locked into the terminal. The steward came back and addressed Radin, “Commander, you may now disembark.”
Radin undid his safety belt, took hold of the guide rail and floated up. Again he was struck by the 99 empty seats—he had forgotten that he was the only passenger.
He made his way to the exit where the Captain and steward smiled and wished him a nice day, and then he grabbed the moving rail, which took him into the terminal. The artificial gravity slowly rose and his feet touched the floor. He let go of the moving guide rail and walked into the terminal.
An escalator took him up one level to the Viewing Concourse, which also contained the baggage claim. Here, thousands of tourists enjoyed the main attraction through giant floor to ceiling view ports that went all the way around the circular concourse. And the sight was something to behold. Oddly, it was Radin’s first visit to Anderson, so he had never seen it close up and from this ideal vantage point before.
Outside the view ports, the planet stretched off. Directly below was the North Pole. And completely encircling the orbiting shipyard, in all their beauty and glory, were the Northern lights—the Aurora Borealis.
Radin took a seat and watched for several minutes. It was the best light show in the star system. Curtains of soft pastel colors rippled as spikes of brighter colors shot up between them, twirled and then fanned out.
A lazy southern accent came from behind him, “Nice view, isn’t it?”
Radin turned to see General Joseph (Joe) Burnwall. He was short man, perhaps five foot six inches, but this was not what you noticed when you met him. His bearing, ramrod posture and the quiet strength of absolute authority in his voice marked him immediately as a powerhouse and a no-nonsense leader. In every way that counted, this five-foot-six-inch man stood six feet tall and, despite his true height, you felt you were looking up at him.
He had short brown hair graying at the temples and dark brown eyes set in a tanned face of sharp angles resting on a box chin. His hand came out and Radin shook it. The handshake was powerful, but not the bone-crushing vice of a person that had something to prove. Radin liked him immediately. He also realized that Burnwall looked around 50 years old.
“You haven’t taken the I-pill!” Radin blurted out before he could restrain himself.
Burnwall smiled, “No, but I will and soon.” He moved to the railing next to Radin and looked out at the light show. “I just thought I’d see how many people dropped dead first.” His deep chuckle was rich and warm. He turned and faced Radin, “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.” He smiled and reached out and grasped Radin’s shoulder. “It’s good to finally meet you.” His hand came away and motioned towards the elevators behind them, “Shall we?”
As they walked to the elevators, Radin asked, “How much do you know?”
“Wicker briefed me, but I haven’t passed on anything to my staff yet.”
“Good. Then you know that we have a good deal of time before ‘it’ arrives, but at the same time…”
“We don’t have any time to lose.” Burnwall finished.
“Exactly.”
As they approached the bank of elevators, Radin noticed that one was being held in place for them by four guards. As they boarded, Burnwall dismissed them so they would have privacy to talk. The doors closed and the elevator began its assent. Radin continued, “Where do we stand right now?”
“Three hundred and two officers and crew qualified on the Leviathan are all here.” Radin looked over in surprise. Seeing this, Burnwall squinted his eyes, “I don’t fool around, Captain.”
Radin had been promoted to the rank of acting captain of the Bet’ti when Adamarus had been injured. However, as was the custom, Radin still wore the silver oak leaf of commander.
Burnwall continued, “There are over a thousand different technical fields we need to fill on each of the ten ships, and I’ve taken the liberty of selecting fourteen hundred and forty-four officers to be trained by the ones already qualified in these areas.” Burnwall snorted, and looked over at Radin with a sour look, “Almost all of these technical fields are decades out of date, still, I’m overstaffing by two complete ships plus some as a safety buffer.”
“Outstanding,” Radin said. Radin was starting to feel like a fifth wheel—Burnwall had definitely taken the ball and ran with it.
“We’ve one problem,” Burnwall continued, “we only have twenty-seven officers qualified on the L-Class fighters and they are all here as well. Still to be decided is
how many we’ll want to train.” Radin nodded. Burnwall snorted, “The problem we face here is, there are no operational simulators. Not a one. And no specs that we can find to build any.”
Radin said, “Taken care of. There are twenty out at Hideaway. Half will be shipped here as soon as possible.” Radin tried not to smile too much. So far, Burnwall had been scoring all the points…not that anyone was counting. “How soon do you see training starting?”
Burnwall snorted again, “My boy, training began at 05:00 the day before yesterday.”
Radin was stunned. “They’re already in training! You don’t mess around!”
Burnwall smiled and rocked on his heels, “That’s a Rodge, Captain,” he said in his easy southern drawl and sparkle in his eyes.
The elevator slowed and came to a halt, but Burnwall reached out and pressed the Hold button, keeping the door closed. Then he pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it. Inside were two silver eagles. “Let’s pin these on you, what do you say?”
Radin’s eyebrows went up.
“Your promotion to captain came through while you were en route,” Burnwall said with a smile. He handed the box to Radin, then removed the eagles and proceeded to pin them on Radin’s collar.
Radin was smiling and nodding, “I was starting to wonder about that.”
“Ha!” the General barked. “Everyone’s been too busy. The pay increase is retroactive from the time you took over the chair on The Bet’ti. But with everything going on, no need to throw a party,” but as Burnwall released the Hold button and the doors opened, Radin realized that Burnwall was way ahead in the brownie point department.
The elevator opened onto a raised walkway that overlooked a vast enclosed area that stretched out a half mile and ended at a huge window. Between Radin and that window, over a thousand officers in full dress uniform stood at parade rest and in formations forming twenty perfect squares. As he and Burnwall walked out to the railing, a single crisp clap sounded as all of them snapped to attention.
Encounters (The Spiral Slayers Book 1) Page 24
