Historians Note
Events in this story occur in 2205, 3 years after the events of The Seeker, which concluded the Earth-Sonali war
2197
The Mariner is mysteriously destroyed. Captain Jeryl Montgomery investigates, sparking the Earth-Sonali War.
2200
Pirate Jeremy Black is conscripted into the Terran Armada.
2202
The Earth-Sonali War ends.
2205
Vice-Admiral Jeryl Montgomery begins forming the Galactic Council
Explore the Pax Aeterna Universe
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Phantom by Trevor Wyatt
The Mariner by Simone Le Rouge
Book I
Book I
2197
Chapter 1
Jeryl
The vastness of space was always disquieting. It was beautiful, but in the back of Jeryl’s mind they were simply hurtling through empty space in a microcarbon tetrapolymer tube. One small deviation from some pretty tight specs and their ass was grass—lungs bursting as they depressurize.
No matter the stellar phenomena that they charted, no matter the beauty that they saw—in the end, space was unforgiving, cold, and empty. It didn’t care who was good or evil. It didn’t care about political factions. Or whether the Captain of the TUS Seeker hooked up with his first officer on shore leave.
Space killed with impunity.
Jeryl sat in CNC on the Terran Union Starship called The Seeker. He used to hate that name when he first took command. But now, he loved it. Two years of commanding an Armada frigate patrolling the border with the Outer Colonies would do that to anyone. He knew each of his crew personally. Hell, he had hand-selected almost all of them at some point or another as people left and needed replacing.
“We’re approaching the last known coordinates of TUS Mariner, Captain,” the navigator, Henry Docherty, called out from his station.
“Cut FTL drive and return to normal space,” Jeryl ordered, leaning back on his chair. He could feel the hum of the ship change as the FTL drives disengaged. The ship materialized into normal space, out from the folded space it was travelling in.
“Visual,” Jeryl ordered. The view screen lit up in front of him. It dominated the far wall of CNC and gave him the visual sensors to see what was happening outside of The Seeker. Double-plated transparent microcarbon glass panels line the sides of CNC, but Jeryl had no idea what the designers of the frigate assumed they would do—they were as big as portholes on an ancient seafaring craft. He couldn’t hop on tip-toed and look out to get a view of the outside, and more importantly, he couldn’t make command decisions.
But Jeryl guessed it was done to bolster morale, to prevent people from becoming claustrophobic. To not have them dwell on the fact that they were in a box travelling several times the speed of light through the cold unknown.
“Mr. Lannigan,” he said to his Science Officer. “Coordinate with Ms. Gavin and scan the area for The Mariner.”
The science officer nodded and made room at his station as Ashley Gavin—the shapely First Officer of The Seeker—walked over to join him. Not for the first time had Jeryl sighed at the sight of his First Officer.
He had done everything that a Captain could do in this situation. He had delegated tasks to his crew and now all he could do was sit back and wait for the next piece of information on this godforsaken mission.
He knew he didn’t sound too happy, but that was only because he wasn’t.
They were out here in the far fringes of the Terran Union. The closest station—Edoris Station—was 20 light years away. That was roughly 20 days that they’d been travelling. No colonies. Just empty space and giant balls of gas and dust.
“If it’s something involving the Outer Colonies trying to come through our back door,” Admiral Flynn had said to him, “there’s no other person I want investigating it than you.”
The Admiral had been insistent that The Seeker had to go see this out. The only problem Jeryl had with the Admiral’s insistence was that the Outer Colonies were all the way on the other side of the Terran Union. Even if they had ships as powerful as the Union’s, he doubted they could get all the way around it without attracting some sort of attention.
Besides, the distance to traverse through empty space would be prohibitive. Which meant, the more that Jeryl thought about it, that whatever caused The Mariner to stop responding to the Edoris Station wasn’t related at all to the Outer Colonies.
And Jeryl would know; he had had experience on the border. Most of his time in the Armada had been rotating on and off ships that patrol the border. There were brush fires, isolated incursions; more to harry and provoke The Union than anything else.
There hadn’t been a war from as long as he could remember. Hell, since as long as anyone could remember. From what he knew, the last sustained conflict was during The Schism, about fifty years ago, back in 2147. The only reason everyone knew about it was because it was taught through History classes; no one who lived through The Schism was serving in The Armada now.
So all they had to go by was what they learned in school—how Earth had sent out her children into the stars. And how those children had grown older and began to help their ailing parents from the ravages of its nuclear war. How rebuilding Earth was deemed to be impossible—after the nuclear wars that rocked the planet, scientists of the mid-21st Century said it would take at least a thousand years of rebuilding for the planet to go back to pre-World War III conditions.
But they hadn’t factored in space travel, or colonies. They hadn’t factored in humanity’s drive to survive when backed against the wall. From the ashes of post-atomic horror, Earth came together and did away with the old institutions, and implemented a unified voice. Earth looked to its children to go into the stars and send back the resources to rebuild.
And rebuild they did—to the exclusion of all else. Large percentages of colony budgets were earmarked for rebuilding efforts for Earth, and for the first generation or two, it was done with pride. People were contributing toward the rebirth of the cradle of humanity.
But fast-forward to another generation, and one would see the grudging acceptance of the sacrifices that had to be made so that a world, one that very few had ever seen, could prosper. Hostility festered in future generations, hostility aimed at sacrificing all their hard work for a world hundreds of light years away.
And the farthest of Earth’s children—those in the outermost colonies—said one day that they’ve had enough. They threw off the yoke, as they believed it to be. And once again, humanity went to war.
But that was fifty years ago. The Terran Armada then was nothing compared to what it was today. Rebuilding was the focus. There was very little need for defensive or offensive technology. Humanity hadn’t encountered any alien lift and it still hadn’t. The few frigates and cruisers that were in service were used to ensure hostilities didn’t get too bad. And in addition, to ensure that the proper material flowed back to the Homeworld.
Eventually, with the Colonies being granted their independence—all 57 of them—tensions cooled and the long vigil across a border began. That was the last conflict anyone had ever fought.
All the research and all the exploration hadn’t uncovered any trace of alien life. They found moss growing on a rock on New Chrysalis; some vegetation here and there—a sign that the universe wasn’t asleep while the humans destroyed themselves, but still no sentient life. For as much as they all believed, humanity was alone in the universe, left to explore on its own; left to fight amongst each other as they colonized the stars.
So then if it wasn’t the Outer Colonies, and if there was no such thing as non-human life, Jeryl was left to wonder what could be preventing The Mariner from responding to them
Solving that problem, he thought. That’s the only mystery that makes this mission worth a damn.
The Mariner was a deep space exploration vessel, with a small crew complement. A part of Jeryl betted that those egghead scientists were just lost in their own little bubble, exploring some stellar phenomena of the month. Not realizing that The Seeker had to be pulled off their course to go rescue some scientists with their heads in the clouds.
We’ll probably find them and they’ll realize they somehow turned off their communications grid, Jeryl thought. Or maybe they took it offline so that nothing would bother them with their research. I’ve seen it happen before. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He was thinking about the scientists when Ashley walked toward him.
Jeryl could tell she was coming up to him even though he was looking down at his pad. He could smell the slight perfume that she indulged in every morning; the smell that he remembered before he went to sleep at night; the smell that he had breathed in when they were on shore leave in New Sydney, when they found themselves accidentally at the same resort. They had drinks and dinner. A bottle of New Sydney wine in his suite. Then, a night of sex.
And the next morning, they replaced all of that with professionalism to cover up the awkwardness—to make sure they didn’t have to talk about what they had done together the night before.
Jeryl felt the hair behind his neck rise as Ashley came closer. Something was definitely up.
She leaned closer and whispered in his ear.
“Captain,” she said softly so that no one could hear. “There’s something you should probably see. In private.”
Chapter 2
Ashley
“In private?” Jeryl whispered cocking one eyebrow as he looked at her. Ashley stood straight, and pursed her lips. She felt the palm of her hands grow sleek with sweat.
A poor choice of words, she thought.
After the New Sydney incident, she had struggled to push her way past the ensuing awkwardness. She did her best to act as professionally as possible, but sometimes her defenses faltered. She couldn’t help it; every time she closed her eyes, and remembered those warm days back in New Sydney, Captain Jeryl just turned into…Jeryl.
The Armada frowned upon their officers falling into personal relationships, but everyone knew it was inevitable; no one could confine people in a vessel for too long a time and expect nothing to happen. Anyone could be sane enough to keep things professional while they were in outer space, Ashley had always thought, but the moment they feel gravity’s pull, things change.
There was the atmosphere to adjust to, and the slight variations in weight. Trading up the Armada uniform for some expensive dress smuggled from the Outer Colonies wasn’t off the table as well, especially for Ashley—at some point, all the formalities drop.
That was what happened in New Sydney.
It was just a short break between deployments, but there was enough time for crass jokes, a bottle of wine, and a night between the sheets at The Oath, one of the landmarks of New Sydney. Jutting more than two thousand feet skyward right in the center of the metropolis, the expensive hotel provided the perfect setting for a weekend of drinking and forgotten boundaries.
The soft sheets of The Oath’s suite were on the far side of the universe, at least as far as she was concerned. She wore her uniform now, the First Officer badge clipped to her chest; she had a job to do.
“In private,” Ashley repeated with a nod, nervously running her tongue between her dry lips. She balled one hand into a fist, and tried to hold his gaze without allowing the First Officer mask to drop.
“Okay,” Jeryl breathed out, reading the serious expression on her face. There was no smile on her lips, putting all the awkwardness to bed. Finding The Mariner and reporting the situation back to the Armada should be a simple enough job, but now she was not so sure.
Ashley had been serving under Jeryl for a few years now, and she had learned to develop that quick intuition the Armada tried to impart on its officers. She had been in more border skirmishes than she could count on her fingers, and lived through so many false alarms that she had already forgotten half of them. But this was different.
This wasn’t a pirate raid in one of the mining colonies, nor just another one of those border confrontations. As far as Ashley knew, no ship tried to encircle The Seeker and none of the ship alarms had gone off for months now. They were alone in the vastness of space, and still she felt there was something wrong about the whole situation.
She felt as if she stood on a shore, her feet buried in the sand, watching as the ocean slowly receded, back into its depths—and then the whole ocean would rise up to swallow her. The readings she had just seen…There was no way for her to be sure, but somehow she felt that a tidal wave was looming above them.
Turning on his heels, Jeryl marched across the CNC. Ashley trailed after him, that tight anxiety taking over her chest. Jeryl stopped for a second, allowing the biometric sensors to recognize him. The door to the Captain’s private office slid to the side and into its metallic partition.
Spartan and rigorous, Jeryl’s office was a reflection of the discipline that allowed him to climb through the ranks all those years. His desk was tidy and uncluttered, the chair behind it is so carefully placed that the whole office looked more like a set than an actual working space.
If she didn’t know all about the ungodly amount of hours the Captain spent in here, Ashley would have assumed Jeryl earned his Captain rank by being an effective pencil pusher. The Armada was full of these types nowadays—the memories of war were distant and faded, and there were few men she trusted to lead the way if shit hit the fan.
But Jeryl…Jeryl she could trust.
Surrounded by bureaucrats from all sides, he somehow managed to retain a certain ruggedness that Ashley found reminiscent of all those war stories about The Schism. If that tidal wave ended up being more real than she wanted it to be, she was glad to have Captain Jeryl at the helm.
“What’s going on, Ashley?” he asked her as the door closed behind them. His lips were a thin line, his voice was clipped and terse.
She looked back at him for a moment, the hard edge in his eyes a reminder that in that moment, she was his First Officer, and not the woman who had slept next to him in a high-rise suite in New Sydney.
“Take a look at this,” she started, walking toward the metallic workstation that took over Jeryl’s entire office. The workstation was a round platform with a sleek surface. Barely noticeable holographic projectors were mounted all around its curved edges. The workstation was smaller than the central console they had back in the CNC, but it was still imposing enough to have a few officers around it.
Ashley opened her palm over the workstation and the whole surface lit up. The holographic projectors heated up, and the main control dashboard appeared in front of her, a see-through projection she could use even if she had her eyes closed. As complex as the dashboard might seem, the Academy drilled their officers hard in matters of bureaucracy and logistics.
Eventually, the entire thing became second nature to a fast learner like Ashley. She pulled up the readings the Science Officer alerted her to, moving her fingers in the air as if she was weaving a fine, invisible web.
After the radar alerted them to the presence of debris in the area, Ashley had sent a small probe out for visual confirmation; she thought she had simply found a small asteroid field, nothing remarkable at all. The visual readings, however, quickly dispelled the naïve thought.
“What am I looking at, Ashley?” Jeryl asked her placing his hands on the edge of the workstation. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the images Ashley just projected. In the projection, a few shards of contorted metal seemed to float freely in the vastness of space, tiny crumbles of glittering debris in a dark canvas.
Instead of replying, Ashley spread her fingers wide once more and zoomed in on the debris. A dark shadow took over Jeryl’s narrowed eyes, Ashley knew the Captain was trying to escape the inevitable answer. The Seeker had set out on a simple reconnaissance mission, its purpose to retrieve a small crew of overexcited scientists who unwittingly entered uncharted territory—but all that was about to change.
A deep exploration vessel turned into scrap right in the middle of nowhere; if Jeryl was already fidgety about the whole situation, Ashley couldn’t even imagine what the Admiral’s reaction was going to be. She could already see this mission’s folder stamped with a large red S, all that information turning into a slew of “on a need to know basis” facts.
It just made no sense to Ashley. She doubted any of the Outer Colony fleets would be this deep into outer space, and even smugglers and pirates wouldn’t be venturing this far. What the hell had happened here?
“Are you sure, Ashley?” Jeryl asked her again, looking up from the projected images and staring right at her, the lines in his face turning into deep trails of concern. “We have to be sure.”
“I’m positive,” Ashley nodded, taking a deep breath as she felt the words claw up her throat. “We’ve identified the debris as The Mariner—and it was destroyed.”
Chapter 3
Jeryl
After staring at the expanded view, taking in the data readouts cascading down the side of the screen, Jeryl looked back at Ashley’s face. Her lips were compressed into a thin line and her brows furrowed. Jeryl cleared his throat.
“The energy signatures from that wreckage...”
Ashley nodded.
“No radioactivity. No CP beams. Something—”
“Unknown,” Jeryl finished.
Unknown, he thought.
Alien.
“But there’s no trace of any activity in this sector,” Jeryl said. It was needless to say that there had never been a trace of activity in any of the sectors. It was a matter of historical fact; there was no intelligent life anywhere in the volume of space controlled by the Union.
“What are we dealing with here?”
Ashley allowed a small smile to soften her tight lips.
“As you say, it’s unknown.”
Several thoughts raced inside Jeryl’s mind.
Is this it? First Contact?
No, he couldn’t buy that. The Outer Colonies, despite his ruling out their interference, could have upped their game with weapons research, and come up with an advanced tech they had come a long way to test. Or had a new player entered the game? But still…Jeryl wondered how any of those reasons could explain why anyone would destroy an unarmed vessel like the The Mariner.
He drew a breath.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s look at the facts. The Mariner is destroyed. We are ruling out something internal—sabotage, some experiment gone awry. Right?”
He shot Ashley a glance and she nodded once. “So we assume an outside force. And yet—,” Jeryl deliberately tapped the top of his desk. “—there aren’t any. As far as we know,” he added quickly, seeing that Ashley had opened her mouth to reply. “It’s a big galaxy, but still.”
There were only a few billion humans scattered across a couple of hundred worlds—plenty of room for strange things to lurk in unexplored places, even in systems they had colonized.
“We have already agreed that it’s an unknown,” said Ashley. “Alien? Human agency? Or perhaps some sort of natural phenomenon.”
“Natural?”
Jeryl thought about that for a moment. “Well, they were out here on an exploratory mission. Our records show they were to investigate the Anderson Nebula.”
“That’s right,” Ashley said.
The Anderson was a small planetary nebula. It was young, less than two thousand years old. It was far enough from Earth, only detected by one of the more distant Union worlds. The Mariner was sent to investigate the neutron star spinning at the nebula’s center. It would be the closest neutron star to Union territory, which had made the place worth a visit.
Jeryl cast another glance at the readouts.
“Well,” he said, “if you’re suggesting they tangled with the Anderson’s neutron star, Ashley—mmm, I don’t think it parses. Given the position of the wreckage, it’s clear they never got close enough to the nebula to be affected by its collapsar. Sensors give no indication of anything else in the vicinity like, I don’t know, a mini black hole...which in any case wouldn’t have torn the ship apart. Nor would the neutron star. Either one would have sucked the ship in.”
Jeryl shrugged. “Gravity being what it is. There’d be nothing at all here.”
Ashley sighed. “I know. But whatever it was, it was more powerful than anything in our records.”
Jeryl had trouble concentrating on the conversation. He kept thinking back to the time they spent at the Oath, when they—
No, he thought., Best not go there. He shook his head to dispel the memory.
“There’s no use denying it,” she said sharply, misinterpreting Jeryl’s gesture. “As you’ve said, it’s a big galaxy. Shit happens, sir. Did you take a really close look at Lannigan’s report on the wreckage?”
Without answering, Jeryl did as she suggested, and spent a few minutes going over the abstract that Taft Lannigan, The Seeker’s Science Officer, had prepared. As ship’s captain, he didn’t have the time or the inclination to wade through screen after screen of technical data when all he wanted was a summary. Dr. Lannigan knew that, and knew better than to waste his time. He was a good officer. But now, what Jeryl found in Dr. Lannigan’s report made him frown.
Unknown energy signatures, they already knew that. But the traces they left behind indicated levels so powerful that they were not only unknown to Terran science, but also stronger than anything else they had encountered before.
When Outer Colonies split off, they had taken some of Earth’s finest—and most malcontented—minds with them. Jeryl wondered about them again.
“It’s not the Outers. It can’t be them,” Ashley said as if she were reading his mind.
Jeryl stared at her.
“I think you’re right,” he said after weighing the possibility. “I think they’re too busy trying to stay alive.”
“In which case,” she said, “what about someone else?”
Jeryl scoffed. “Who?”
“One of the corporate fleets.”
While it was true that the corpers—that was what they called them—bragged about having more advanced hardware and AIs than the Union ships, all those things had been fairy tales they had let them believe. A commercial enterprise anywhere in history that has a leg up over the military was non-existent. Jeryl supposed there were isolated examples, but for the most part, more technical advances had come through military necessity than through corper blue-skying.
Except genetics, Jeryl thought. And even there, he knew for a fact that the Union had research facilities at least on par with the civilian facilities.
But the bottom line was the corpers simply weren’t anywhere near the fringes of known space. There was no money to be made in undeveloped areas. The corpers weren’t humanitarian outfits; they were motivated by financial gain, and not prone to much speculative exploration.
Once a promising world was located, some place thickly forested, abundant with foreign vegetation with potential to cure diseases or prolong life...Then the corporations would show up, glad-handing the colonies and dumping money into research for a cut of the gain. It was politics and business as usual.
“There’s just no reason to suspect any kind of corporate involvement here,” Jeryl said. “And what would they have to gain by destroying a Union starship?”
“Because they’ve stumbled on something lucrative? Like, something incredibly lucrative that it’d be worth killing for?”
Jeryl shook his head. “It just doesn’t make any sense, Ash.”
Ash—he had used her nickname, despite himself. Ashley, however, didn’t seem to notice the breach in professionalism.
“That would be, I don’t know, renegade behavior,” Jeryl continued. “No one could get away with that for long. And what could possibly be that lucrative?”
“All right then, what about someone completely new?”
Jeryl grinned. “How long did you say you’ve been an officer on a starship?”
Ashley flushed.
“There’s nothing. No one else,” said Jeryl. “Look, excuse me for being obvious, but in 150 years as a space-faring civilization, we’ve never found any other sentient life. Not even a trace. No ruins, fossils...zero. Zip. Not even radio signals.”
“What if they don’t use radio?” said Ashley.
Before he could object, Ashley waved her hand.
“I know, I know—you’re right. I mean, I understand perfectly well that neither the outers nor the corpers could develop whatever destroyed The Mariner. But something did.”
“Undeniably.”
“Have you ever heard of Sherlock Holmes?”
Jeryl blinked at the abrupt change of subject.
“No. What ship does he command?”
Ashley smiled. “He’s a fictional character, Jeryl. A detective, created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in the Nineteenth Century.”
“Oh. Well, no, I’ve never heard of him.” Jeryl knew she read a lot, but he had no idea her tastes included pre-Union fiction until now.
I learn something new every day, he thought.
“Well, Holmes once said, when you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. So, if we rule out involvement by corpers and outers, and other human agencies, and natural phenomena, we are left with...”
She raised her eyebrows at Jeryl. Jeryl, in turn, concealed his irritation.
“I don’t know,” he said in a clipped tone. He saw a telltale blink red on his desktop. “Look, I have to report to the admiral. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Of course, sir.” Ashley smiled. It was nice smile, a private one, like the ones she gave him at the Oath. Jeryl hoped to see more of it.
“Shall I talk to Dr. Lannigan? Have him bring some of the debris aboard for closer study?”
“Precisely what I was going to suggest,” said Jeryl. The telltale blinked again. Admiral Flynn really didn’t care to be kept waiting.
“See to it, please, Commander.”
Ashley snapped off a salute, and Jeryl returned it automatically. They both smiled, a private undertone shared between them. Jeryl wanted to say something else, something personal, but before he could sort out his thoughts, Ashley said, “I’ll be in CNC, sir.”
She turned and left his office. The telltale sign of an incoming transmission blinked and Jeryl, alone, tapped the comm link.
Time to face the music that was Armada Command.
Chapter 4
Jeryl
“Dammit, Montgomery, I want answers. I need answers.”
“I understand, Admiral. I’m doing my best to—”
Admiral Flynn waved an impatient hand as if to wipe Jeryl’s words away from the air. Flynn was a choleric man in his mid-sixties, still craggy and in great shape, his brush-cut hair gone grey. Jeryl knew he was an enthusiastic amateur boxer, and personally, he wouldn’t want to step into the ring with him despite Flynn being shorter and lighter than he was. The Admiral had a fire for personal best.
Jeryl took no offense at the gesture. He explained to him that he was having some of the wreckage brought aboard for closer examination.
“Just give me a couple of hours to get a more complete report together, Admiral,” he said, remaining calm in the face of Flynn’s glare.
Jeryl had dealt with Flynn before and he knew that despite the Admiral’s bluster, Flynn was no martinet. And Jeryl knew that he was not stalling.
Flynn scrunched his face up.
“All right,” he growled. “You’ve got three hours. Fair?”
“Fair,” Jeryl said. He signed off and went down to the science section with the intention to build a fire under Dr. Lannigan.
* * *
Three hours later he was back on the slipstream with Admiral Flynn at Edoris Station, sharing his findings. Even though there had never been any proof that a slipstream broadcast could be hacked, it was customary to encode them on the off chance the Outers have made a breakthrough.
Flynn wasn’t happy with what he was told.
“All my science team can say is that whatever destroyed The Mariner was an energy weapon of some kind,” said Jeryl.
Flynn let out an impressive snort. “Well, it’s good to know that we haven’t got one of Horatio Hornblower’s ships of the line out here blasting away with a fusillade of cannon fire!”
Jeryl bit his lips to restrain a laugh despite his sarcasm.
“Send me the reports. I want to see ‘em.”
Jeryl subvocalized a few commands to the ship’s computer; it responded with a low compliant tone.
“On their way,” said Jeryl.
Even though Flynn was light years away at Edoris, the slipstream, quantum miracle that it was, dropped the documents into his computer almost at once. Jerly knew the documents would not make him any happier. Flynn called them up on a read-screen, his scowl deepening as he scanned through the files.
“Unknown energy signature...all remaining components give evidence of having been bathed in highly charged emissions. Super charged, in fact.”
He grunted.
“Whatever that is. No, no,” he added as Jeryl started to explain, “I know what it means. You’re saying that whatever hit The Mariner disintegrated some of its components, destroying enough of them that the ship’s hull couldn’t maintain integrity. The Mariner exploded. The wreckage is brittle, some of it, like old bread.”
Admiral Flynn looked up from Flynn’s report.
“They were on their way to investigate a neutron star in that damned nebula.”
Again, the Admiral scrunched his face. “Could they have been caught in a GRB?”
GRB, Jeryl thought. Gamma ray burst?
He took a few seconds to ponder the idea. High-energy physics was not his field, but like all ship captains, Jeryl knew his astronomy. He supposed a concentrated burst of gamma rays could do the sort of damage they found, but, from what he knew, GRBs were rare; maybe half a dozen per galaxy per million years.
GRBs were associated with the collapse of a dying sun into a high-density neutron star, but The Mariner’s target had been sitting in its nebula for centuries, at most.
The biggest strike against implicating a GRB was that there had never been one in their galaxy; all observed GRBs originated from outside the Milky Way. An event of that size would have lit up radio telescopes dozens of worlds. A GRB in the Milky Way, if it happened to be pointing at Earth, could trigger a mass extinction event, potentially sterilizing the planet, and turning it into a lifeless cinder.
Jeryl explained his reasoning to Flynn, and the Admiral nodded as if he had already figured it out. Jeryl thought he probably already has.
“Well then, this last bit,” Flynn said, flicking a paragraph up onto the screen so that Jeryl could see it, too.
“Lannigan is saying that he suspects a concentrated, highly charged beam of photons. Mixed in with a population of some unknown particle.”
“Yeah, um...” Jeryl hoped his face remained passive; he hadn’t noticed that particular datum in the findings.
Unknown?
Jeryl cursed silently. Not that it was a surprise to him—everything about this situation smacked of the unknown, only he should have caught that detail. Jeryl nodded sagely.
Fortunately, Flynn took it as an agreement with his assessment rather than Jeryl’s attempt to cover his mistake.
“So we’re left with a particle beam of a previously undiscovered nature that can cause molecular breakdown,” said Jeryl, summing up for himself as much as for the Admiral.
Flynn nodded.
Jeryl scanned the rest of the report as quickly and unobtrusively as he could.
“Lannigan says that only something focused could do this, not something dispersed, and the focusing device, platform, agency, whatever we call it, has to be something relatively small. Not the size of a star. Not the size of a planet, even.”
“Something the size of a ship, you mean,” Flynn said with a low voice.
The two men locked eyes through the slipstream viewer.
“All right, listen to me, Montgomery,” Flynn said after a few moments. “This is strictly need-to-know, and I think that at this point you need to know. The Armada has been developing a gamma ray weapon for a number of years now.”
Jeryl blinked. “I didn’t know that.”
“Of course you didn’t,” he says. “It’s an Intelligence issue. I’m in the loop because some of my technical team members are involved. They’ve been testing the thing on Tau Ceti 2.”
Tau Ceti 2, Jeryl knew, was an airless chunk of planetary real estate about the size of Mercury, orbiting its primary at about as far as Venus was from Sol. It was lifeless—therefore an ultimately good place for weapons research.
“I see,” Jeryl told him.
“It’s still being tested. They’re having problems with shielding the—well, never mind. That’s information you don’t need to know. The short version is, it’s not ready for official deployment yet. I’m told they’re still at least three years away from that.”
“But if we’re working on something like that, then the Outers could be also,” said Jeryl.
“That’s right, Captain. Yet Armada Intelligence has not reported any sort of activity that would suggest the Outer Colonies have something even close to this kind of capability.”
It was Jeryl’s turn to scrunch up his face. The standard service joke was that Armada Intelligence was an oxymoron.
The official intelligence services did their best, and sometimes they were good at it. But it had long been an open secret that they relied too much on informers and embedded operatives whose reports were often unverifiable.
“The Armada could be off the mark,” said Jeryl.
Flynn shrugged.
“We have a new president,” he said. “We have a new council. They are a bunch of mid-level bureaucrats who only care about the damn bottom line.”
Not everyone shared this view, but Jeryl did. The new administration had been cutting funding in favor of channeling more money to the renovation of Earth’s environment. The widespread collapse of mankind’s interlocking social and technological edifice during the 21st century had severely devastated the planet; overpopulation, a stressed environment, and World War III were the overlying factors of Earth’s collapse.
Analysts predicted after the end of the World War III, it would take roughly 500 to 1,000 years for the planet to recuperate, for humanity to be able to live again on the planet sustainably. But over the last one hundred and fifty years, the predicted numbers had dropped dramatically, to the point where most areas were now habitable and full renovation was something they should be able to see in the next ten years. Most of the planet had been rehabilitated, and for Jeryl, no one could argue that it was not money well spent.
You couldn’t tour some of the places in Africa and Europe—and North America—and not come away with tears in your eyes and a determination to clean that mess up.
Well, we cleaned it up, alright, thought Jeryl. But what else did we ignore?
The money to be able to do all those things did have to come from somewhere, and one of those places was the Armada Intelligence. The perception of the administration was that the Outers were a bunch of ham-fisted goons who could barely make their starships work.
This view, however, Jeryl did not share. From someone tasked to patrol the stellar borders, Jeryl knew what the administration thought was not reality-based. The Outers lacked some resources, but they weren’t fools.
The damn Administration, Jeryl thought. Far from the field, what did they knew about…anything?
To some extent, Jeryl had always felt it left people like him hung out to dry. If they got in a jam they could yell for help and it would come, but for the most part they were expected to solve their own problems. Jeryl was generally good with that; he was not a big fan of relying on other people.
Jeryl knew Flynn was thinking that at this point, he may have to concede. But Jeryl was not ready to give, not just yet. Flynn wanted his officers to be as autonomous and self-reliant as possible. It was why they had such carefully chosen and well-trained crews.
“This is what we get for electing a bean counter,” said Jeryl, and Flynn barked out a laugh.
“I know you want more information, son. I do, too—but I don’t want this to blow up in our faces.”
“I won’t take any unnecessary chances,” replied Jeryl.
“Very well. Proceed with caution, report regularly.”
“Sir.”
With the call to Flynn terminated, Jeryl put in a call to Dr. Lannigan.
“I want you to work with Docherty in Navigation,” he told Taft. “Have him plot The Mariner’s course and follow it back.”
Lannigan raised an eyebrow.
“Somewhere along the line, they ran into something,” Jeryl explained. “Something that bit them. If we trace their course, maybe we can run into it too.
Chapter 5
Ashley
One of her jobs as First Officer was to keep track of the ship’s full complement. That included the three computer-based artificial intelligences as well as the fifty humans who were aboard. The AIs in engineering and navigation were sequestered to the ship.
They were created to serve in the absence of crewmembers or in the event that crewmembers became incapacitated. They walked, talked, and operated in a way to mimic humans; this had been done deliberately to prevent awkward interactions with them.
Early generation AI had been non-autonomous until the Armada Security received complaints that the AI units gave crews “the creeps." They did not have names, either, other than EngPrime and NavPrime, or usually just Eng and Nav. For Ashley, neither one had much in the way of personality.
(That was a joke she had tried on Jeryl once, but the Captain just gave her a blank look.)
For some reason, Ashley couldn’t figure out, AI in the armory was different. It was a later model than the others, its cognitive net more capable with faster connections. It wore clothes. Someone with a strange sense of humor had programmed a personality into it, something based on an old-time gunnery sergeant. It called itself Gunny. Gunny’s user interface was rough spoken, often obscene, and inclined to pomposity.
Ashley found Gunney amusing herself, but she knew Jeryl was annoyed with him. He tended to avoid the AI as much as possible; Gunny was not impressed by anyone’s rank or social standing.
Ashley had served on several other Armada frigates, and they all had a greater complement of AIs than The Seeker. She knew that having AIs on board was strictly at the captain’s discretion. A few frigates, however, had no AIs, for one reason or another—usually down to the captain’s discretion.
Human prejudice against AIs ran strong in certain quarters and among certain demographic groups. Ashley had never spoken to Jeryl about the relative scarcity of AIs among the ship’s crew—but plainly put, she believed it was none of her business. If Captain Montgomery had a problem with AIs, she never heard him mention it, and it was not her place to ask.
It would stand to reason that the AI’s presence was due to the recent victory of the Union’s new president in passing legislation for AIs to serve in the armed forces. This new president’s family had been involved in robotics and cybernetic development all rooting back for centuries.
They had been using computers since the 20th century, Ashley was aware; the computers weren’t anything new to the military. But it seemed like the new laws were as no more than a payback to the powerful Cybernetic Science lobby that helped the new president to come into power.
There were a lot of very conservative people in the military, which, for Ashley, was not a bad thing; she considered herself a conservative person, as well. Her father and his father before him were military men, and she was proud to carry on the tradition. She had ancestors rooting back from World War II, fighting aboard destroyers. They were a family of peacekeepers and law enforcement officers.
Many of her fellow officers, including several aboard The Seeker, never liked AIs much, but they obeyed the letter of the law. For Ashley, she had nothing against the AIs, though she had known few as interesting and personable as Gunny. Most people thought of AIs as appliances having opinions, and never regarded them as being truly alive.
Her feeling was that there were bigger issues to worry about in life. But she did know that ships with fewer AIs tended to have a happier crew. This led her to think that Jeryl was trying to have it both ways: he was obeying Armada custom by having several AIs on a given vessel, but he had limited their numbers—a shrewd attempt on his part to boost morale by having fewer synthetics on the ship.
All these thoughts slipped through Ashley’s mind as she sat at her station in CNC, going over status reports. She could do those with half of her attention—maybe even less. This was why she had been daydreaming about the AIs.
But as she had thought before, it wasn’t her business. If she and Jeryl grew closer, perhaps she could ask him.
But of course, that was an entirely different affair.
She found herself thinking again about that night. She really did not want to—it was distracting. She had duties to attend to. Supplies, nominal. Recyclers, fine...though number 45, outside the third-level lay, would only give out soap, no matter what’s asked of it. Nothing that couldn’t be dealt with once they docked.
She had been trying, although unsuccessfully, not to think about it for weeks now. She was certain that they ended up at that resort together on New Sydney by sheer accident. They had been delayed on the ship by some administrative tasks, so she missed the main shuttle that took the body of the crew down to the planet for some well-deserved shore leave.
New Sydney was something of a vacation spot, so there were resorts scattered all across its face. With barely any axial tilt, the planet enjoyed what was basically a yearlong early summer.
With so many resorts to choose from, she found Jeryl at the same spot as hers. She was surprised; Jeryl was having a drink in the lounge as she walked in to register and he was dressed in an open shirt, shorts, and sandals. Jeryl was a good-looking guy, no one could deny that, but Ashley had never seen him in such casual garb.
He didn’t see her, but after she signed in Ashley went over to his table. Jeryl looked up at her, surprised.
“Ashley! I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Well, here I am,” said Ashley, taking a seat. “What’s that you’re drinking?”
“Oh, a really old liquor called tequila.”
“I’ll have one, too.”
Well, she had one, two, three, and the next thing she knew...
She had never expected it. He said he never expected it. But for an unexpected liaison, it was amazing. She didn’t get to her room until the next morning. Jeryl’s was large, clean, and airy...with perfumed breezes from the flower forest nearby drifting in. They smelled like cool and sweet, like gardenias, her favorite.
It was impossible—it was heaven. She was not inclined to be particularly submissive, but he took command and four orgasms later, he finally let her fall asleep. She didn’t even get to reciprocate until just past dawn, after she woke to use the bathroom and then went back to repay her debt. The next three days were a repeat of the first, with time-off for tours of the forest, incredible meals—and a lot of sex. They were consenting adults after all.
Since then, it was all business between them, and Ashley was fine with that. Not so much as a caress or a kiss had passed between them since New Sydney—but perhaps a meaningful glance or two. But they knew the truth of their positions: Jeryl was her captain, Ashley his first officer, and they had a job to do.
What happened was a dalliance—a very pleasant one at that. It wasn’t headed towards anything, and Ashley was perfectly okay with that. In fact, she preferred it. She had a career and she was not about to settle down just yet. She didn’t even know if she wanted children.
Frankly, they never appealed to her. She might not be good mother material, either. Ashley never spent time thinking about that...it wasn’t at all high on her list of priorities. In fact, last time she looked, it wasn’t on the list at all.
She wasn’t looking for that to change. These were things they hadn’t talked about. In fact, they may never even get to talk about them at all, and that was okay…but she wouldn’t rule out another fling like the one with Jeryl, though.
A security alert buzzed from her station, startling Ashley. A quick look at the code told her it was nothing internal, but when she glanced at the exterior monitors, her jaw dropped.
It was a spaceship. But it was not one of theirs: nothing Earth ever built looked like the one she was seeing.
She slapped the comm link and waited an endless three seconds until Jeryl responded.
“Yes, Lieutenant?” His voice was all business.
“Unknown craft sighted fifteen units away, northwest quadrant,” Ashley said as crisply as she could, linking him into the feed. “On an intercept course.”
Fifteen units, she thought as she spoke. How the hell did they get that close without us spotting them sooner?
Jeryl was silent. He was reading the data, looking at the video feed. A completely black triangular craft about half a kilometer long was on the side on to theirs, with a faint glow of ionization from its tail section—
A drive plume? Ashley wondered.
It had circular lights in a single row along its side.
Portholes. This was an alien vessel. A question raced into Ashley’s mind; who or what was looking out of those ports?
Chapter 6
Jeryl
Jeryl had been in his quarters, relaxing with a novel on his tablet, when Ashley’s ALERT window popped open over the text. Jeryl was so stunned by what he was seeing on the screen that he couldn’t speak; he was caught completely off guard.
It took him a good thirty seconds to fully absorb the fact that he was looking at what could only be an alien vessel. His brain creaked into motion at last. They were nowhere near a planetary system; this had to be an interstellar craft.
Length estimated at a hair under a hundred meters, and that was big. That was bigger than a seagoing battleship, way bigger than The Seeker. Assuming whatever life form was aboard was about human size, Jeryl figured the crew of that beast could easily be ten times the size of theirs.
Even as numbers cascaded through his thoughts, a realization overrode each of them: this was the bastard that destroyed The Mariner. This was not what he expected for First Contact with an alien species. He tossed the tablet to one side and strode all the way to CNC as fast as I could.
Back in the Academy days, there was only one course that ever discussed First Contact, and that, oddly enough was a class in Humanities. The instructor, Professor Guss, devoted exactly one day to it.
The whole discussion had been purely hypothetical, of course, because by that time they had been exploring the volume of space around Sol system, and although they had found worlds where various forms of vegetation flourished, they never found any kind of animal that could be considered even marginally intelligent. In fact, their scientists had never discovered anything much bigger than a large cockroach.
There was no intelligent life anywhere in the stars—at least, not any of their stars. Their ships could achieve a top speed of about one light-year per day, which seemed impressive until you realize that the Milky Way galaxy was estimated to be a hundred thousand light-years in diameter. Divide 100,000 by 365 and you get a shade over 273.972. That was how long it would take to cross the galaxy in years, at that speed. Not days—years.
That was how their first class in First Contact began: with a discussion of how big space was. Being well grounded in astronomy, students in the Academy knew that already. But their teacher, Professor Guss, reviewed it anyway. Professor Guss was a tall man with a big nose and ears that stuck out. But from what Jeryl remembered, no one ever made fun of his appearance; the professor was generally liked. He was smart, and a good man on top of it.
“So we’ve found nothing in our own solar system except for some microbes under the ice at Enceladus and Europa,” he said in the first lecture. “Nothing on Mars, not even fossils. Nothing on Venus, of course. Nothing on Titan.”
He spread his hands. “Now, this is not to say that I believe that life on Earth is unique in the universe, or even the galaxy. We’ve just finished talking about how big space is. There could easily be a civilization elsewhere in the galaxy, but it could simply be too far away for us to ever discover it.”
“But the Drake Equation--,” someone started to say.
Guss waved a hand. “There are still too many variables in that for us to be able to make a reasonable guess,” he said.
“Everyone knows what the Drake Equation is, I take it?”
Jeryl glanced around the lecture hall. If there was someone who didn’t know, no one was admitting it.
Using a finger, he wrote the equation on the large screen floating beside him: N = R* x f(p) x n(e) x f(l) x f (i) x f(c) x L.
“Let’s take this apart,” he said. “N is equivalent to the number of civilizations in our galaxy whose electromagnetic emissions are detectable.”
He looked around at us. “Anyone?”
Jeryl raised his hand. “A given civilization might not be using electromagnetic means of communication.”
Guss nodded. “Right, and that’s the first thing wrong with the equation.”
He turned to the equation again.
“R asterisk stands for the rate of formation of stars suitable for the development of intelligent life. F modified by p is the fraction of those stars with planetary systems. Well, we know now that there are a huge number of planets out there. The lower case n with the e subscript stands for the number of planets per solar system with an environment suitable for life, and f (l) for the fraction of planets on which life actually appears.
“We have good numbers for all those parts of the equation, but from here on it really breaks down. The f (i) is the fraction of planets on which intelligent life emerges, and to date that number is exactly one: Earth. The next component is also equal to 1, because it stands for the fraction of civilizations that have developed a technology that releases detectable signs of their existence into space. The last component describes how long such a civilization will continue to do so.”
The professor shrugged. “The search for extraterrestrial life has been going on since before we became a spacefaring species. And yes, it was exciting to discover microbes, and later plants in other solar systems. That proved that life could and does arise on alien planets. But so far it seems as if we’re the only world on which intelligent life has developed.”
All of which led them to an enjoyable discussion of science fiction and possible life forms, but Guss cut it off before it went very far; it was all purely speculative. What he wanted to talk about was how humanity would react if another intelligent species were ever discovered.
The consensus was that they would wave hello, perhaps put out some trinkets on a blanket if they were aboriginals, or go the Carl Sagan route with simple diagrams and so forth if they had developed a higher civilization.
And that was it. Jeryl knew that the Union had a number of contingency plans for contact with an advanced species, but most assumed that the aliens would be friendly. There were a few who assumed our new neighbors might be unfriendly, or very unfriendly. No one wanted to talk much about the latter two instances, in part because they weren’t considered to be realistic. An advanced spacefaring species, the reasoning went, would had gone past the aggressive stage.
Jeryl was skeptical about that, however. All they had to do to trash that idea was to look at their own internecine disputes with the Outer Colonies. For Jeryl, humanity as a species hadn’t taken the lessons of their ruined planet very well to heart.
The necessity of repairing its damaged environment after World War III led to the creation of a sort of benevolent “world state” envisioned by many. It had come about more or less out of necessity, but the Union wasn’t a government as much as it was a coordinated rescue operation.
Now that the restoration of Old Earth was almost complete, thanks to the resources sent home from the rest of the Union, the old plague of nationalism was making a resurgence. That was what the Union spent most of its time and resources combatting.
Because that—from what Jeryl had learned in the Academy—was what led them to the pissing matches with the Outers that ballooned into the Schism. The Outers were the biggest threat to the Union’s stability, or at least that what the Union thought. For Jeryl, he wasn’t so sure, but they handed out the paychecks. He was happy to be on their side. He loved his job: it was as simple as that.
But he never expected to be the man on whose shoulders the burden of First Contact would rest.
* * *
As he hurried into CNC and dropped into his command chair, he saw a view of the alien ship on the main screen. There was a lot more detail visible. The craft wasn’t smooth-skinned. It seemed instead to be covered with a myriad small square plates or segments, almost like scales. There was a buzz of excited conversation around him as his officers conversed among themselves.
“Okay,” he said, lifting a hand. “Belay the chatter, people. We have work to do. Stay on point.”
The talk died away. He knew what they thought—it was the same thing he thought of, that this ship destroyed The Mariner. But they didn’t know that, and until they did, he was going to play this by the book.
“Dr. Lannigan,” Jeryl started.
He was not in CNC, but Jeryl knew he was following the drama from the lab.
“Sir,” Lannigan responded at once.
“Prepare sensor scan and telemetry reports and send them via emergency broadcast to Edoris Station. I want them on Admiral Flynn’s desk before I breathe ten more times.”
Jeryl squinted at the bogey on the main screen. It remained unmoving. It showed no sign of knowing they were here, but Jeryl was certain it was all but oblivious.
“Helm,” said Jeryl.
“Sir?”
“Take us in closer. Dead slow.”
All right, he thought. Let’s see what you’ve got.
Chapter 7
Ashley
Jeryl didn’t look at her when he entered CNC, but Ashley didn’t really expect him to. The situation was far too fraught for any sort of personal interaction. All of them were entirely focused.
It was a moment like no other in human history. Ashley knew they were all aware of this, but no one ever said it aloud and no one needed to.
Ashley stood at the Communications station, where the communications officer, Mary Taylor, was working her console as dexterously as a concert pianist. Ashley liked Mary Taylor. She had an affinity with her from the moment Mary reported for duty on this ship, three voyages and two years ago.
The previous comms officer, P'yŏng Kwangjo, had come with the ship, as the saying goes. And although he was a good comms man, he didn’t interact much with the rest of the crew. There was nothing surly or sullen about Kwang; he merely kept to himself when he was off duty, for the most part, being a dedicated amateur musician on a traditional Korean instrument, the gayageum.
He wasn’t reclusive about it, and would occasionally play as part of “talent night” get-togethers, sitting on the floor with crossed legs, the head of the instrument resting on his right knee and the tail resting on the floor. For those performances, he always wore traditional Korean garb.
When Kwang’s commission was up he didn’t reenlist, as many had expected him to do, and so they were forced to apply to the Armada for a new officer. In Kwang’s place, they got Mary. Kwang was a small, dapper man. Ashley thought that somehow they were all expecting someone physically similar.
When the lift doors opened and Mary strode out, all expectations were immediately readjusted. She was a tall woman of African descent, but with the light skin—and red hair—of what was still sometimes called a “high yellow” black. Beautiful she wasn’t—striking, however, she was. Ashley didn’t think there was a man aboard (and more than one or two women) who had not wanted to bed her at some point.
Mary wasn’t against a bit of fun, for sure, but her primary focus was on being a comms officer, and she was a damn good one. The most interesting aspect of this for Ashley was that she was extremely hard of hearing, and had an implant to augment them. She could crank her earbuds, but in everyday speech she sometimes could not make out what anyone said unless she could see their lips.
From where he sat, Jeryl snapped order about the sensor scans, acknowledged by Lannigan. Ashley scanned the electromagnetic spectrum for any hint of a signal from the alien ship.
“Anything?” asked Ashley in a low voice.
“Not so much as a peep,” Mary replied. “I’m giving them the full treatment,” she adds, pointing her chin at her instrument panel. “Given that the illumination visible through those portholes is very close to what our sun puts out, we can deduce that they have eyes like ours. I’m taking that a step further and assuming that their audio capabilities are like ours, too.”
Ashley nodded, thinking it over. “Okay, I’m with you on that.”
“Which means, obviously, that if they’re using anything on the spectrum I should be able to pick it up. Unless they’re shielded.”
Mary sighed. “And I think they are, because like I said—not a peep.”
Ashley was so intent on what Mary said that she almost jumped when she noticed Jeryl standing beside her. He had risen from his command chair and had come up to them without Ashley knowing.
“Carry on,” he murmured when Ashley turned to him. “I want a closer look at Taylor's readings.”
The alien ship hadn’t moved since it appeared on their scanners. They were closing with it at about 25 kilometers per hour. Ashley glimpsed a patch notice pop up on Mary's main window; the reports from Lannigan were ready to be sent to Admiral Flynn. It took Lannigan longer than 10 breaths to get the reports ready, but not a lot longer. Mary sent them on their way without being told.
“Still no response on standard frequencies, Captain,” Mary said calmly despite the drop of sweat that trickled down the back of her neck.
Then she gasped, and Ashley knew why. Her fists clenched when she saw the alien move away from them at exactly the same speed: 25 knots.
“Guess we’ve invaded their personal space,” she muttered.
Jeryl grunted softly.
“Okay,” he said. He looked over at Pedro Ferriero, their helmsman.
“Mr. Ferriero,” he said, “ahead 50 knots.”
“Aye,” Pedro said, never taking his eyes off the main screen. He didn’t need to; Ashley was fully aware he knew them by heart. He could fly the ship blindfolded—and he had, Ashley had seen him do it.
And as they moved ahead at the increased speed, their triangular acquaintance upped his speed of retreat by exactly the same amount.
Jeryl muttered something Ashley couldn’t hear.
“Seventy-five,” he said, in such a way that he expected the alien to match it.
And it did. It annoyed Jeryl even more.
“I don’t like games,” he said with a hint of a snarl in his voice.
“They are communicating with us, Sir,” Mary said.
“What do you mean?” The snarl was a little more obvious. “All they’re doing is—”
“They’re saying not to come too close.”
He thought about that. “They, they, they...how do we know there’s a ‘they’ in there, Lieutenant? The thing might be automated.”
Ashley knew he didn’t really believe that. He didn’t think anyone aboard the Seeker believed that. Someone was inside that ship.
Tension in CNC grew. The book said to do what he was doing: standoff, try all hailing frequencies, observe. Union protocol said they had to do all they could to not appear threatening. And that was all well and good, but if this ship was responsible for the destruction of the Mariner, the ship had some serious firepower—one that could be turned against them at any moment, if they made the wrong move.
Or maybe even if they didn’t make a wrong move.
Ashley was dead certain that everyone in CNC was thinking about the Mariner’s wreckage at that moment. She knew Jeryl wanted to do something, anything, besides from merely observing—and so did Ashley. If it were up to her, she would suit up and jet over there and knock on their airlock.
But it wasn’t up to her, and so she stood there at Taylor’s station, feeling her own sweat meander down her back beneath her tunic.
“The likelihood is that she’s an enemy vessel,” Jeryl said.
“Correct,” said Ashley. “It’s just too much of a coincidence for this ship to show up here, so near to where the Mariner was destroyed by an energy weapon with an unknown signature.”
He said nothing, taking a deep breath.
“This could be a trap,” he said. “Their sensors may be as advanced as their weaponry. They could have seen us coming, and are lying doggo here while we come in too close to get away when she makes her move.”
Ashley thought back to that night in New Sydney. After they finished making love for the second time they took a break. They lay there in each other's arms, talking about themselves and their goals in a way they had never done aboard the Seeker. That was how she learned of Jeryl’s disappointment at not being on the front lines where he could face the Outers. Ashley already knew he was driven to succeed; he would never have won the commission to the Seeker otherwise. The military was full of overachievers, and he was one of the most aggressive.
But despite his drive, Ashley knew Jeryl never took himself too seriously—most of the time. Now here he was, confronted with an utterly unique experience in human history, and he was toeing the Union’s line.
Don’t piss off the natives. Ashley felt his frustration.
Jeryl ordered Pedro to cut back to twenty-five knots. As soon as Pedro did, the alien ship dropped its speed, too.
“Ahhh, you fucker,” Jeryl said, too quietly for anyone except Ashley to hear.
It went on like that for another ten minutes: they sped up, and the alien would speed up. They slowed—then she slowed, always maintaining the same distance apart. They shifted course to come at her from a new direction, but she angled herself so that she always kept her profile to them. Back and forth, back and forth.
“Well, this is a waste of time,” Jeryl said at last.
Addressing the CNC at large, he said, “We have to think of something else. All executive officers, meet in my office in five minutes. Let’s take a break and see if we can brainstorm a new approach. Mr. Ferriero, all stop.”
“Sir,” said Pedro, bringing the Seeker to a halt relative the alien, which immediately stopped, too.
Ashley turned with Jeryl to leave the CNC, but then Mary spoke in a tense voice, “Captain? Y-you might want to take a look at this.”
Chapter 8
Jeryl
“So,” said Professor Guss, “let’s take the problem of how many technical civilizations may live in the galaxy and put that aside for now, and look at a more complicated issue. How will we recognize intelligence when we see it?”
The students looked at one another. Trick question? Jeryl wondered. At last, one of the other cadets raised his hand.
“They’ll have machines,” he said. “You know—instrumentality.”
The professor nodded. “Extensions of their natural capabilities,” he said. “But be careful, here. We humans have built ourselves a complicated technical infrastructure to support us, almost like an exoskeleton supports an insect. He can’t live without. At this point, neither can we.”
Again, the students looked at one another.
“That’s not to say that others can’t,” Professor Guss said. “As a species, we’re somewhat blinded by our accomplishments. Granted, it’s no small thing to land on the Moon, abolish diseases, harness electricity, or disseminate ideas via printing or electromagnetic waves. As a result of our cleverness, we’ve come to judge the intelligence of our fellow earth species by how closely it resembles our own.”
Blank looks were all around, but for Jeryl, he was beginning to see where Guss was headed.
“We have studied the sound patterns of whales. Their ‘songs’ are recognized as being a method of communication. We still don’t know what they’re saying, but on some level, they’re exchanging information and ideas. That’s very close to intelligence.”
“Ants do that,” a dark-haired female cadet said. “And bees. I know ants use pheromones to lay down trails to food for their fellows, but that’s still information exchange. And bees communicate the location of flowers to other bees in their hive by a dance.”
“But those are both evolved behaviors,” said Guss. “You’re not claiming that ants and bees are intelligent, are you?”
“Well, no; but they do both build complicated structures to house themselves.”
“Termites, too,” someone else put in.
Guss nodded. “Good, and we’ll have to be careful not to mistake behaviors like that for true intelligence, if and when we run into extraterrestrials. Coral animals build huge structures as well—vast reefs. But no one would argue they are intelligent in any way.”
Another cadet raised his hand.
“Ants and bees won’t be building spaceships,” he said, and laughter rippled across the lecture hall.
Professor Guss smiled as well.
“True enough,” he said. “But we know of other tool-using animals on Earth. Crows and chimpanzees, for example, are widely regarded by scientists as being capable of rudimentary tool use. Other studies have shown that the extinct elephants had amazingly complex societies. They mourned their dead, for example. And once we get up to the level of primates, we start to see even more complicated social organizations.
Guss looked around the lecture hall.
“But—those animals—and let’s lump dolphins in there—are they intelligent?” The dark-haired girl, whose name was Ashley Gavin, said, “I believe we have to say that they are. But without hands, they would never be able to give concrete form to their ideas or to conduct experiments that would prove or disprove any hypothesis they develop.”
She spoke slowly, articulating her ideas very carefully.
“Clearly we evolved from primate stock...if we were to disappear, the apes might develop intelligence again.”
She paused, but Guss motioned for her to continue.
Speaking with more confidence now, she said, “The problem faced by, um, super-intelligent dolphins, for example, in a world where Man doesn’t exist, is that they live in the ocean, and have no fire.
“They would not be able to smelt metals that they could use to build machines, like say an airplane; and they lack the hands to do the building anyway. So I think, therefore...I think that their intelligence will always be limited by their own physical incapabilities and their environment.”
She heaved a deep sigh and sat down.
“That’s very good,” Guss said, “but you’re still using your own humanness, if you will, to judge other species. I can imagine a race of intelligent dolphin-like creatures in the ocean of Europa, for example, even though we don’t think there’s anything like that down there, who have become symbiotic with a creature like an octopus. There are your hands.
“Perhaps the octopus creature began as a parasite, stealing nutrients from the dolphin’s blood. But it used its arms to secure food that the dolphin would devour over time, a symbiosis develops.”
He waved a hand. “And we may well find something like that somewhere in space. Taken separately, neither species could do what they can do together.”
The general air of the lecture hall relaxed and became casual. None of the students, including Jeryl, took the silly gut course very seriously; there was no way to fail it, because it was purely speculative.
But he was starting to understand that the professor’s purpose was to get them to examine their biases and prejudices. They couldn’t go out into space believing that any aliens they met would look or act like them. Yes, it was possible—if the underlying assumption of the Drake Equation held, intelligence was more likely to arise on worlds like Earth, with liquid water, and a nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, and a relatively clement environment. There would be enough food available to allow for the existence of a cooperative social order.
This would, in turn, allow for the development of beings that were fully capable of analyzing its resources so that it could be exploited for its betterment. Which was where they had gone with on Earth, before the overpopulation, warfare, hatred, and oppression.
And so Jeryl had to wonder; how could any species, anywhere, get past those barriers?
* * *
He had been thinking of the upcoming meeting in his office, and had thought back to that lecture by Professor Guss about intelligence. In this case, Jeryl bloody well knew that that black, triangular starship housed some sort of intelligence, so that wasn’t the question.
The ship could be full of liquid in which floated something like Guss’s octopus/dolphin pair. But it didn’t matter. What they needed to know was, if they posed a danger to The Seeker. Were these the people who had destroyed The Mariner,?
And if so, why? Why would an otherwise intelligent species take such a destructive step without bothering to learn the nature of those aboard our research vessel?
Then, just as he was at the door of the CNC, Mary broke into his thoughts.
“Captain? Y-you might want to take a look at this.”
He caught the uncertainty and doubt in her voice.
“What is it, Lieutenant?” He asked, turning back to her station.
“I decided to test for scanning wavelengths that are less common,” she said. “Because we don’t know what their instruments are capable of, and I was wondering what could cause the energy signature we saw in The Mariner’s debris. I remembered something from one of my classes in neutron tomography, which is the basis for the long-range scanners we use aboard The Seeker.”
Jeryl nodded. He knew this. A good captain knew his ship’s capabilities, even if he wasn’t entirely capable of explaining them. He didn’t know exactly how radio worked, but he knew you could talk to people on the moon with it.
Taylor said, “Neutron tomography sometimes has an unfortunate side-effect, depending on how strong the scanning beam is. Imaged samples can end up being radioactive if they contain appreciable levels of particular elements.”
That was an easy implication to catch.
“You’re saying that a neutron beam of some kind destroyed The Mariner?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “but it’s possible. Or neutrinos, which have even more penetrating power.”
“We don’t have neutrino-based scanners,” said Jeryl.
“No. We don’t. But they may; and a neutrino scanning beam could easily be modulated to become a weapon.”
She pointed at one of the smaller screens on her console. “See this? There’s a flutter in this wavelength. I think it’s the main wavelength in a carrier wave, and this flutter indicates...I’m not sure what.”
“Do you think that’s our neutrino wave?”
She shrugged and shook her head. She didn’t know.
“Fair enough,” Jeryl said. “So why wasn’t this discovered sooner?”
Taylor went on the defensive. “Well, I wouldn’t have found it now if I hadn’t thought to scan on a finer scale than we usually do. Sir. And it just popped up now.”
“At ease, Lieutenant,” said Jeryl, with a smile. “I'm not accusing you of anything. I simply want to know what’s happening here.”
“The Mariner might not have had enough time to make a fine-spectrum scan before she was destroyed,” Taylor said. “They’re a research ship, and they don’t have scanners as sophisticated as ours. They might have inadvertently made a gesture that was interpreted as hostile by the alien. Hell, Sir, excuse me, but they might never have even seen the alien.”
“And so now here we are, nosing around, and maybe they’re realizing they made a big mistake,” he said, rubbing his chin.
Would the aliens apologize, or compound their error by attacking them? And if they did attack, could their shields stand up to a beam as powerful as the one that destroyed The Mariner?
“The wave is modulated,” Taylor said again. “That’s the flutter we see. It could be that they’re trying to talk to us.”
Jeryl remembered Professor Guss’s course. Just because they used radio, there was no reason to assume that other forms of intelligent life did.
“Very well,” he said after a moment. “Run it through the computer, see if you can decipher it. Get the AIs online if you need ’em. Not Gunny. The other two.”
Taylor nodded. “It may take a couple of hours to figure it out.”
“Fine. Keep me apprised.”
Jeryl looked around the CNC.
“Let’s cancel that meeting,” he said to his crew. “I want to see what we come up with as far as communication from that ship.”
He left CNC and headed toward mess hall.
Their coffee is crap, he thought, but I want a cup. Badly.
Chapter 9
Ashley
Ashley left CNC a short time later and followed after Jeryl to the mess hall. It was one of her favorite places in the ship. There were windows there, not video screens, so she could get the full experience of looking out into space. This didn’t work so well when the ship was in hyperspace, though, much to Ashley’s dismay, because there was nothing at all visible outside.
How inevitably disappointing, Ashley always thought, for anyone who grew up watching old movies—or even new ones. All they would have to do was think for a moment; faster-than-light means faster than light; as in, nothing was visible at all because light couldn’t bring it to your eyes. The force bubble surrounding the ship and shielding it from the stress and energy fluxes of FTL travel rendered the outside universe invisible.
All navigation was done by computer. In the early days of FTL travel, a lot of ships had gone missing before the energy levels required to go a given distance were properly measured. Most of them still hadn’t been found.
She found Jeryl sitting with a cup of coffee off to one side, tapping at his tablet. He didn’t look up when she entered. Ashley went to the resequencer and ordered a coffee for herself with a comm badge scan and tapped the BLACK 1 CREAM NO SUGAR combo.
Cadets were invariably surprised when they find out they had to pay for food and drink aboard a starship. Ashley was, too, the first time. But when she had thought about it, it made sense. A starship was a closed system. While it was in space, nothing comes out and nothing comes in. This meant that any food and drink that they needed was either carried, or else synthesized along the way.
Ashley knew that even back then, early space explorers brought everything with them in terms of food, but even back then, they recycled their urine for water. These days, however, with advanced 3D resequencer technology, a wider range of food and drinks were available, as well as other items.
Some of them required chemical compounds that must be carried in the ship’s supply stores. It was not unreasonable for Ashley to be charged for more for a latte than it was for a simple drink of water. But it wasn’t cheap, so she didn’t often splurge on lattes.
The plain-vanilla coffee, so to speak, was nothing to write home about, but it was better than no coffee at all—marginally.
Ashley just wished it wouldn’t take so damn long for the resequencer to work its magic. Smart folks put their orders into a queue while they were still in their quarters, but people on duty had to catch theirs on the fly, like Ashley was. And it could take up to five minutes.
While she was waiting for the thing to gather its molecules, she thought back to how she was here now. So far, so fast. It was crazy because she joined the Armada when all she wanted was the Armada to pay for school. She had every intention of becoming an astrophysicist, but before she could, she had to put in three years of mandatory space service. She forgot about astrophysics after a couple of months.
The thrill of actually being aboard a Union starship washed all of that away. Ashley ended up becoming a career officer and joining the Academy, rising in the ranks. She never regretted it. She’d seen things and been to places that a career in the sciences would never have given her.
Finally, the machine was done. It beeped at her and Ashley withdrew her cup from the slot. Jeryl was still tapping at his tablet, so she went over and sat down at his table.
“So what do you think?” she asked.
He grunted: I don’t know.
“I’m getting sick of playing chicken with these people, though, I can tell you that.”
“Do you think they’re going to...you know. Hit us with what they used on The Mariner?”
Another grunt. “I just sent a notice to Engineering to keep EngPrime ready for emergency thrust,” he said.
“At the first hint of them powering up that ship of theirs, he’ll kick us into FTL. I don’t care if it removes us from the scene, we’ll be safe in the drive bubble. Not even a particle beam can get through that.”
He swirled his coffee in its cup, and frowned down into it.
“Ashley,” he said after a moment. “This is a game-changer, you know.”
“You mean, the aliens?”
“Yeah. So now we know for a fact we’re not the only intelligent life in the universe.”
“It’s historic,” said Ashley. She couldn’t help but feel a little thrill at her own words. “This is it, Jeryl. People will remember our names. Like Neil Armstrong.”
He growled. “You know whose names they ought to remember? The crew of The Mariner, that’s who. They’ve already had First Contact.”
He scowled into his coffee. “And we know how well that went.”
“You’re right, of course,” Ashley said. “I’m just glad we were able to get those reports sent back to Edoris Station.”
“So am I, but I’m not sure what’ll ever become of them.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
He let out an ironic chuckle. “Flynn’s a good guy, but if he takes those reports up to Armada Command on Earth, and they think it looks embarrassing, they’ll bury it.”
All Ashley could do was look at him for a moment. She didn’t think she had ever heard him say anything so cynical. “Is that really true?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about it,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “We’ve been out in space for what, a hundred and fifty years? Forty-five billion human beings spread out over 198 colony words. Another 4 billion human beings in the Outer Colonies. How is it we’ve never found another trace of anything like this?”
He inclined his head toward the screen, and the image of the alien vessel. “That’s a sophisticated ship.”
“I don’t know,” Ashley said. “Maybe they don’t like Earth-type worlds. Suppose they’re from a place like Titan, hellishly cold with a methane atmosphere. Not all star systems have worlds like that...they would have no reason to visit a system with Earth-like planets but none of their preferred type.”
He tapped two fingers on the tabletop, repeatedly, still frowning. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Or, I dunno—how about this? The Union has been so focused on restoring Earth to environmental health that we simply didn’t pay close enough attention. We might have missed something. We’ve been completely occupied with looking for suitable ores and so on...and the scientists have been kept busy enough with the vegetable life we’ve found, and microbes. We couldn’t spend the money and time digging down into each planet looking for fossils or artifacts.”
“I had a professor at the Academy,” he said. “He had this course in First Contact.”
Ashley nodded.
“Professor Guss, I never took the course; it was an elective and it seemed like a waste of time to me. But I’ve heard of him.”
She kept to herself what most people thought of Guss—eccentric, Ashley thought, to put it kindly.
“His whole point was that we might not recognize intelligence if we found it. We judge other species by our own standards, and we think that there are only two states of being: asleep or awake, alive or dead, conscious or unconscious, intellectual or material. But what if it’s a spectrum, like autism? There might be degrees, and we might miss something simply because we’re not capable of recognizing it.”
Ashley could only shrug. “Well, that ship out there is a pretty plain indication that whoever is inside it is intelligent.”
“Agreed; but we’ll know that only because we have the evidence of the ship itself.” He shook his head. “All I’m saying is, we have to be very careful not to judge them by our standards.”
Ashley looked at him for a moment, and felt a surge of—something she would rather not call love. Jeryl was a thoughtful man, and she found that attractive. She frowned, banishing away the thoughts.
“Are you afraid?” he asked her.
Ashley lifted her eyebrows.
“No,” she said honestly. “Excited, yes; apprehensive, and nervous, yes. But afraid? No.”
“Good. Because I need you, Commander.”
He stared deep into her eyes and what she read there made her a little uneasy. There was a spark.
Dammit, she told herself. This is not professional behavior, you knot head. He needs you to be the First Officer of this ship.
Ashley opened her mouth to say something inane, but fortunately Jeryl’s communicator beeped just at that moment and he tapped it.
It was Mary Taylor at Comms. “The computer has deciphered the frequency.”
“All right,” he said. “My office, three minutes.”
“Sir.”
He looked at her, and that spark was gone, erased by determination and dignity.
“All right, Commander,” he told her. He drained the last of his coffee and stood up.
“Let’s go see what they’re saying to us.”
Chapter 10
Jeryl
Within a few minutes, all Jeryl’s officers were seated around the table in the conference room adjoining the CNC. Present, besides Commander Ashley Gavin and himself, were Taft Lannigan, their Science Officer; Mary Taylor from Communications, Lieutenant Eiléan Docherty, head of Navigation, and Dr. Mahesh Rigsang, Chief Medical Officer. He had given Ferriero the helm. The engineering, navigation and armory AIs were present via commlink.
Jeryl turned the meeting over to Mary Taylor, who summarized her efforts to decode the transmissions from the alien.
“It took some time to figure out what they were doing,” she said.
“It’s not straightforward, as you might expect. There were numbers, but not anything simple like 2 plus 2, to establish a mathematical baseline. Instead, it was a series of primes, running from 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19 on up through 100,000, all indicated by a series of fluctuations in the carrier wavelength. So I responded with the series through five hundred thousand.”
“That sounds like a pretty firm basis for communication,” said Eiléan, a trim, dark-haired woman in her late fifties.
“Well, you would think,” said Mary. “We batted primes back and forth for a while, so rapidly that I figure they must have a computer on their end as well. Then, they started in on factoring pi.”
“Are they using base 10?”
“No, it’s tridecimal, base 13,” Taggert replied. “It’s easy to work conversions for it. I mean, I wouldn’t be able to do it in my head.”
She glanced at Eiléan Docherty, who could do that sort of thing in her head. Eiléan was a math prodigy who was studying trig at the age of eight and matriculated from MIT with a dual master’s degrees in math and computer science at nineteen.
“From there the transmission got more complex. The fluctuations became multi-phasic, superimposed on one another. They were sending schematics of molecules—but with missing covalent bonds.”
“They’re trying to judge how advanced we are,” says Dr. Lannigan. “Sending us fill-in-the-blank puzzles.”
Mary nods.
“I think so. They know we’re capable of interstellar travel, but for all they know we could have been doing that for hundreds of thousands of years. And that, I think, is why the last question or puzzle they sent was an engineering question regarding the equations for the FTL drive.”
“What?” Jeryl barked, startled.
“It is so, Captain,” said EngPrime, the Engineering AI, speaking for the first time. “Analysis indicates that their propulsion systems must be very similar to our own, given the specificity of the question. The query aims at the containment system that allows us to warp space around The Seeker, which leads to the further conclusion that there is only one way to travel faster than light. They could not possibly have known what to ask, otherwise. The universe doubtless will not allow for more than that one path to violate Einstein’s law.”
“The old boy must be spinning,” Dr. Lannigan said with a chuckle.
“I think,” Ashley said, “the first thing they wanted to establish was that they could talk to us at all. You know, how much have we got in common?”
“I agree,” said Mary. “Now they know we can talk to each other. These puzzle questions were probably designed to tweeze out how much physical science we know.”
Jeryl lifted a finger. “Clever of them, if a bit obvious. But it leads me to wonder...”
“Sir?”
“Is that the way a hostile species would act?” he asked.
Everyone glanced at one another. Jeryl knew he was on to something.
If these people attacked The Mariner, he thought, would they subsequently go to all this trouble just to establish a basis for communication with us?
“I can think of two reasons why they might,” Ashley said. She was quick. That was one of the things Jeryl liked about her. Quick, and funny, and she could—
“For one thing, The Seeker is a good deal bigger than The Mariner. Not as big as their ship, of course, but even so we look like we might have teeth. We show up and they think ‘Uh-oh, it’s Mariner’s big brother come for revenge. We better play nice, pretend to be innocent explorers, trying to communicate. In so doing, they’ll learn how advanced we are, like Moira suggested. Then they’ll decide if they can kick our tail or not.”
There were nods and murmurs of agreement around the table.
“And just showing up wouldn’t be a coincidence,” Eiléan said. “They can deduce that we’re either able to communicate over interstellar distances, or else we’re an immediate follow-up force such as might normally be sent.”
“Possible, possible,” Jeryl said, stroking his chin. “And your other reason, Commander Gavin?”
She shrugged. “They’re exactly what they seem to be.”
“Wait, what are you saying? That this ship isn’t responsible for blasting The Mariner?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh, now, wait a minute,” Dr. Lannigan put in. “Just wait. You’re saying that there’s another intelligent species in the area?”
“I don’t know,” Ashley said. “I know it sounds silly...”
“Boy, does it ever,” said Dr. Rigsang, who hadn’t said one word thus far. “Do you have any idea what the odds against that are?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know,” she said. “It’s a crazy universe out there, Doctor.”
“I think I get your reasoning,” Jeryl said. “The aliens seem to have deliberately made it hard to decipher their communications, burying them in a carrier wave. I have a hunch that they’re not much more advanced than us, if they’re using that methodology. I mean to say, we’re not dealing with godlike powers.”
“Right,” Ashley said. “They haven’t teleported over here, or sent a software avatar or something...they’re barely past the dot-and-dash stage, like us.”
She shrugged again. “Figuratively speaking.”
“We’re more or less equals,” Jeryl replied, thinking about it. “In terms of cultural and technological development.”
“That’s how I read it,” she told him. “And they could be terrified. Let’s assume for a moment that they didn’t destroy The Mariner. We could well be looking for any excuse to blow them to atoms—how are they to know?”
“This is damn confusing,” The Captain said, unable to keep an edge out of his voice. “Wait, though; what if they put The Mariner through this same examination? This series of puzzles?”
Ashley shook her head slowly.
“If they did, they were probably wasting their time,” she said. “She isn’t carrying the kind of equipment we are...She isn’t more than a scout ship, really, with no room for more than one AI and not much in the way of weapons. Gunny?”
“Ma’am?”
“What were The Mariner’s offensive and defensive capabilities?”
“Standard CP beams and lasers, nothing that could stand up to a ship that size,” said the armory AI.
“Standard screens.” There was a blip of static that signified a shrug.
“They could have smashed her flatter than piss on a plate, excuse my French.”
Ashley turned to the Captain. “So there you go, sir. The Mariner probably never got past the signal buried in the carrier wave. All she would have seen was the carrier wave itself, which doesn’t carry any information. Sure, she’d have known that she was facing an intelligent alien...but she probably wouldn’t have been able to talk to it. And you heard Gunny. If the alien took offense, or got nervous...”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Goodbye, Charlie.”
Jeryl heaved a sigh and sat silently for so long that some of the others start to fidget. He couldn’t help it; his wheels turned slowly when faced with a serious problem.
And this is possibly the most serious problem the human race has ever faced, he thought. If the aliens are smart enough to somehow trace us back to Sol System who’s to say that they won’t send their own armada?
He sat quietly, turning all this over in his head. At last he spoke, quietly:
“Lieutenant Taylor.”
“Sir?”
“You can reply to them, can’t you?”
“I can.”
“Good. Then here’s what we’re going to do. I want you to craft a response that’s neutral in tone...we’re not angry or confrontational; we’re not jumping for joy at finding other intelligent life forms. This is a purely mundane exercise for us. Savvy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. How long will it take you to do that?”
She licked her lips. “I can uh, I can do it now, if you’ll give me fifteen minutes. I’ll run it by you of course, before I send it.”
“Perfect. Do it.”
Jeryl pushed back from the table. “The rest of you, to CNC right now. I want everyone in on this.”
No one spoke a word, but they all followed him out of the conference room and into CNC.
He didn’t believe he was the only person who was sweating.
I hope to hell I know what I’m doing, Captain Jeryl thought.
Chapter 11
Ashley
Once they were all at their stations in CNC, Ashley saw Mary pick up her earbuds prior to composing the message as directed by Jeryl.
“Belay my previous order, Lieutenant,” said Jeryl at that very moment.
Mary paused, her hands poised over her entry tablet. “Sir?”
“I’m not feeling very neutral right now. So here’s what I want you to say: ‘I am Jeryl Montgomery, captain of this vessel. We’re investigating the disappearance of our scout ship. We found its wreckage. If you know anything about how our people met their demise, I request information. If you caused the deaths of our people, I demand to know why.”
No one in CNC said anything, but Ashley could feel a general air of approval. It could be risky, and it was her place to speak up if she thought he was being reckless—but taking a firm stance seemed warranted. It all depended on what the alien’s response was.
“Don’t dawdle, Lieutenant. Send it along.”
Taylor replied, “They...won’t understand your name or rank, sir.”
It was clear to Ashley that Mary didn’t want to send that message; it was too aggressive.
“I realize that,” said the Captain, a little testily, “but they should be smart enough to figure out what I mean. The salient points will be clear enough, I imagine.”
Ashley walked around the room’s circumference to her station, and leaned over so that only Mary could hear her.
“Just send it, please.”
Mary had a stubborn look on her face, but Ashley was certain she would carry out the order. Her fingers moved slowly over the tablet.
Dr. Lannigan voiced out Mary's concern. “Your message may be perceived as a threat.”
His long, lugubrious face appeared even sadder than ever as he spoke.
Jeryl gave him a hard look.
“Doctor,” he said briskly, “they’re free to read it as one if they’re responsible for the loss of The Mariner.”
Jeryl lifted his chin.
“Helm,” he said.
“Sir,” Pedro Ferriero said.
“Battle alert. Shields at fifty percent.”
Ashley felt as if she had to speak up at this point.
“Sir, this is a first contact situation. Is it wise to be at battle stations?”
Jeryl opened his mouth—Ashley figured he was about to tell her to keep her opinions to herself—then he did one of the things that made him worthy of respect to her respect; he listened to what she had said, and considered it.
Many captains, including every other one Ashley had served under, would had followed Jeryl’s first impulse and told her that he’d ask for her opinion when he wanted it. But Jeryl had made it clear to every crewmember aboard The Seeker that he had an open-door policy. She wasn’t questioning his order, exactly; she was reminding him of what was at stake.
He flashed her a smile so brief that she wasn’t completely certain that he had given one at all.
“Mr. Ferreiro, take it down to Attention instead of Battle Alert.”
“Sir,” said Pedro, and touched the PA controls. A triple beep filled the air, and repeated five times. The lighting dimmed and took on a reddish hue. Everyone on board as now at the ready. They would jump into action if the actual alert sounds.
Ashley was erect at her station, staring at her instruments. The electromagnetic shields weren’t yet raised, but could be at a touch. Aside from drills, this was the first time The Seeker had been on Attention Status since they left Earth.
She wondered if the aliens could sense the flux of energy flowing through their power grid. If so, she wondered what they made of it.
They waited for a response to the captain’s message. Minutes ticked by. The only sounds in the CNC were small noises from the monitors as they scanned the alien’s frequencies, and an occasional cough or throat clearing from one of the crew. They were variously excited, afraid, or nervous.
Ashley herself was nervous. Her palms were sweating. No one aboard had experienced combat. Their disputes with the Outers hadn’t yet boiled over into an open fighting. There had been no major space battles fought in fifty years, since 2147.
In fact, the last recorded skirmish this year was minor; there were no lives lost and the ships involved suffered no more than a few laser singes. Not even any hulls were breached. It later turned out that the weapons officer on one of the ships fired out of sheer anxiety. This had happened in a pirate's den in the Alluria Sector.
There had been plenty of talk of possible war with the Outer Colonies, but war against an entirely unknown species? That was a different breed of bad.
Ashley wiped perspiration off her forehead.
She realized someone was standing beside her. It was the ship’s doctor, Mahesh Rigsang. He was slight, dark-skinned, with thick black hair and warm black eyes. His lilting accent pointed out his ethnicity; he was from the city of Dehra Dun in the northern India state of Uttarakhand.
“Apprehensive,” he said.
It wasn’t a question.
Ashley nodded and he smiled.
“It’s the unknown. Fear of the unknown. Can I tell you a little story?”
Ashley knew from past experience that there was nothing Mahesh loved more than to tell his little stories. In fact, she had told him many times that he ought to get married and have kids; he’d be a wonderful father. He only shook his head and said, “I am not ready for that responsibility.”
Mahesh was a man who had saved lives during his time. During World War III, Delhi, which was only about 200 kilometers from Dehra Dun, was wiped out by a 500 kiloton nuke. By the time Mahesh was born, the incidence of cancer in the region had increased by more than two thousand percent. Two of his uncles died from radiation-induced bone cancer. His early childhood was marked by death and environmental degradation.
Personally, Ashley thought the reason Mahesh didn’t want kids was that he feared fathering a mutant. It happened often. Nowadays, they were able to try and provide somewhat of a better life for mutant infants, but in a fair number of times…there was nothing left to be done.
Now, in response to his offer, Ashley spoke with a mouth so dry she can barely croak out the words.
“Sure...go ahead.”
Mahesh patted her arm and began, in a quiet voice so as not to attract the attention of anyone else in CNC.
“A monk who found himself depressed and fearful over the looming threat of war between his land and a stronger, more aggressive neighbor, decided to meditate alone, away from his monastery. He took his boat out to the middle of the lake, moored it there, closed his eyes and began his meditation.”
Ashley listened, but her eyes were on her instruments. The alien had not made any response to Jeryl’s communiqué.
“After a few hours of undisturbed silence,” Mahesh said, “he suddenly felt the bump of another boat colliding with his own. With his eyes still closed, he sensed his fear rising, and by the time he opened his eyes, he is ready to scream his surrender to the enemy boatman who had disturbed his meditation.
“But when he opened his eyes, he saw that the craft that had struck his was an empty boat that probably got untethered and floated to the middle of the lake.”
Mahesh shrugged and grinned at her.
“At that moment,” he continued, grasping her arm, “the monk realized that the fear was within him; it merely needed a bump to provoke it out of him. From then on, whenever he came across someone who frightened him, or if he found himself in a risky situation that threatened him with harm, he reminded himself, ‘It is merely an empty boat. The fear is within me.’”
She turned and looked down at him. He was the shortest man in the ship, but unlike many small men, he was completely unconcerned about his height As a result, he had been quite popular among the unattached female crewmembers.
Including Ashley. This was something she had never told Jeryl, and felt no need to, as Jeryl and she weren’t at all together. In fact, she had never told anyone. She figured her business was hers alone.
“Thanks, Mahesh,” she said; she realized she did feel better. Someone said, in the context of looming war, something about fear being the only thing there was to fear. Once you knew what was there in the darkness, it was a lot less scary.
She really did want to know what was inside that damn ship. She frowned down at her instruments for a moment, and when she looked around to speak to Mahesh again, he was gone. In fact, he had left the CNC.
She promised herself that as soon as she could, she was going to buy him a drink in the lounge.
Jeryl cleared his throat. “What the devil are they doing over there, chipping their reply in stone?”
Moments later, Mary spoke in a tight voice.
“We’re receiving a visual transmission from the alien.”
Jeryl grunted.
“Put it on the main screen.”
Chapter 12
Jeryl
Jeryl didn’t know what anyone else expected, but the image on the screen was no surprise. His first feeling, in fact, was a sense of relief and even vindication. He had always believed—though he had never shared this belief with anyone, not even Ashley or even his siblings—that if they ever found intelligent life elsewhere in the galaxy, it would resemble humans in general form.
Think about it, he once told himself. We evolved from tree-dwellers who learned to walk upright. We were taller than many other animals, and we had our hands—with their opposable thumbs—free to grasp sticks or rocks both large and small. Our bodies had their primary sensory organs—ears, eyes, nose, tongue—at the top, a head that could easily swivel around to keep watch for enemies or food. We also keep our brains up there.
Our shape is a good size for intelligence, too. We’re adaptable and can move quickly when we need to. In our bodies we carry a huge number of reproductive cells and information therein. We’ve also got fat to see us through times when food is scarce. For evolutionary success, it would be tough to come up with a better design.
Apparently, the Captain now mused, these standards were broadly applicable elsewhere in the universe as well. Now, Jeryl saw on the view screen a face, somewhat similar to his own: humanoid, with two eyes in the front of its head, a nose, and a mouth. It had no ears; just slits. It was bald, with a large cranium.
The eyes had no pupils, and were a deep blue in color. Its skin was blue as well. The being cocked its head when it saw him and furrowed its brow. Its mouth drew down, like a frown. The captain knew he should be wary of ascribing human emotions to an alien creature, but this fellow looked at all the world as if he were examining Jeryl and finding him wanting.
There were murmurs of surprise and wonder from the CNC personnel at their stations around the captain. For a long time, no one spoke.
A text message flitted across one of his screens. It was from Ashley, at her station: What are you going to say to him?
Without taking his eyes off the alien’s image, he tapped for a virtual keyboard, and on it he replied: How do you know it’s a him?
You know what I mean, Ashley responded.
Of course. But I’m not going to say anything. Let “him” speak first.
No “One small step for a man” stuff?
I hadn’t thought to prepare any remarks. He hoped she could catch his sarcasm.
The blue figure on the screen spoke—a weird click-pop noise, pure garble. The captain had heard something like this before...he ransacked his memory and came up with a name: the!Kung. They were a semi-nomadic African tribe who lived in the portions of the Kalahari Desert.
The “!” in their name represents a sort of cork-out-of-a-bottle popping noise. The !Kung were driven to extinction in the years following the World War III, along with many other native and aboriginal people around the world. These disappearances were one of the worst results of the war.
After absorbing the surprise of their language, he watched the alien closely. When it spoke, it showed no teeth in his mouth, just a solid-looking ridge of bone. Jeryl couldn’t tell anything from its expression. They didn’t have a philologist on board, but the computers ought to be able to analyze his speech and give them a good translation, figured Jeryl.
The alien was long-winded, but after a couple of minutes it stopped and sat, staring at him.
Jeryl typed a message to Lannigan: Are you getting a translation?
Not yet, he replies at once. The written symbols were one thing. This click-pop talk is something else and I need some time. Engage him in conversation if you can...I need more information.
He sighed. He knew they weren’t expecting a First Contact encounter, but even so, they should have had some sort of translation protocol ready to bring on line. He made a mental note to take this up with Admiral Flynn—If they managed to survive.
All right, he typed to Lannigan. He looked over at Mary Taylor at Comms. She shrugged at him, as clueless as he was.
He pasted on a smile on, and addressed the blue-skinned alien. Placing his hand on his chest.
“My name is Jeryl Montgomery, Captain of the Terran Union Starship The Seeker. We have exchanged information via electromagnetic waves. What’s your name?”
The blue captain—Jeryl assumed the being was the captain, anyway—looked at someone or something off-screen. Jeryl heard his words being repeated in a rather watery electronic tone. Close enough for government work, he thought. At least they got all my inflections right.
Suddenly a thought popped into his head and he almost smiled.
“Lieutenant,” he said to Mary Taylor, “I want you to analyze that transmission. They buried information in their earlier communications. In the carrier wave. Comb through this video signal, see if there is anything sub- or super-sonic, maybe. I don’t know. Work with Dr. Lannigan, will you? And Doctor, are you having any luck getting me a translation?”
“I’m still analyzing,” he replied.
The verbal exchange interested the alien, who leaned forward a little as if to catch their words. He still couldn’t see anyone else, so Jeryl decided to rectify that and see how the sight of other human beings affects him.
“Comms,” he said to Mary, “give him full access to our camera feeds. I want to see what he makes of it.”
The alien’s head moved back and forth as the additional images come through to him. He must have had multiple screens on his console, as Jeryl’s crew did. Now, he was seeing the full complement of CNC officers. Jeryl wondered if he could tell the difference between the males and the females, or the different races.
“Now, we want to see yours,” he heard Pedro Ferriero mutter at the helmsman’s station. Jeryl almost smiled at that, but he knew Pedro had a point—they had shown their new acquaintance that there was more than one person manning their craft. He would like to get an idea of how many crewmembers were housed in his behemoth of a ship.
But the alien didn’t take the hint. He simply sat, staring at Jeryl through his inscrutable blue eyes. Jeryl was starting to get fidgety. This meeting was going nowhere.
“I’ve got it,” Dr. Lannigan said, through Jeryl’s earbuds. “There are two coded frequencies in that video transmission, Jeryl. One inside the other, so that you can’t get to the second one without decoding the first one. If we were only looking at the video we’d never see it. Good catch.”
“It’s purely out of my ass, Taft. It just hit me that they may do this two-level thing all the time. What I need to know is, can you decipher it?”
“I think so—give me a few minutes.”
“As quick as you can, Taft, please.”
“Aye.”
Jeryl watched the data stream on his screens as Taft ran the alien transmission through the computers. Jeryl felt himself sweat. After what seemed to be hours, Lannigan spoke again:
“Got it. The information is all sonic, and seems to be keys to intonation. Their language is similar to Asian tongues, in that the inflection you put on a word determines its meaning. Without computers, we’d never be able to understand what—”
“Okay, I get it, just tell me what this guy is saying.”
“I have to integrate the key with their stream; it’ll take a little time.”
“Quick as you can,” he said again. Lannigan didn’t take offense; he knew they were walking into the unknown here.
While he was chewing on the new code data, Jeryl thought about what he should say to the alien once they could fully understand each other.
Greetings from the people of Earth, he thought. Or, This is a moment that will be remembered throughout history, both yours and ours.
Jeryl shook his head. He had never been good at extemporaneous speaking; he liked having prepared remarks, maybe a few jokes. But what sort of joke would these blue people understand?
These two aliens walk into a bar...or the one about the blonde and the traffic cop? What was that one about the guy who cuts off his dog’s nose? Someone asks him, how does he smell? And the guy says—
“I have it,” Lannigan said.
“Good.”
The alien was speaking again. This time Jeryl heard a gravelly voice tumbling out of the speakers. In clear English, the alien said: “If you’re not able to understand me, perhaps you’re not worth my time at this point.”
Chapter 13
Ashley
All of them in CNC were so taken aback by the alien’s rude behavior that no one spoke a word. Jeryl stepped right into the breach, however. Without blinking, he said, with great dignity, “I understand you perfectly well.”
A look of what Ashley took to be surprise flickered over the alien’s face. Note to self, she thinks: they do seem to have a similar emotional spectrum.
“I’ll repeat my original greeting to you. I am Captain Jeryl Montgomery of the Terran Union Starship Seeker. If I may be so bold as to ask, whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”
The blue alien’s face was impassive as it listened to the popping and clicking garble their machines had made of Jeryl’s speech. It waited for a few moments, and then spewed a few moments of clicking babble. On our end, the translation was:
“Good, it appears you have solved the knowledge mazes needed to be able to converse with us.”
Are these people going to be totally insufferable? Or is this captain of theirs just a dick? I wonder if Jeryl is going to hand him his head, she thought.
But no, he was silent. All he did was stare at the alien with a perfectly level gaze.
She almost grinned. He’s going to wait the son of a bitch out.
The alien didn’t know that Jeryl Montgomery was famous throughout the Armada for being a top-notch poker player. No one could out-bluff him. He could have made a career as a gambler, had he been so inclined. Ashley had seen him bluff a table of crusty old poker players, including an admiral and a two-star general, into folding against a 2,000-credit pot when all he had was a queen in the hole. And this was against one player with a full boat. He was good.
After nearly two minutes of silence, the blue one spoke again.
Is it my imagination, or is he getting pissed off?
“We send a standard hailing frequency to all ships and races we encounter—” and for a moment, she heard nothing more. Jeryl’s tactics worked. He had gained a precious pearl of information out of the alien, a genuine game-changer: They now knew that there were other intelligent races in the galaxy, and that more than one of them developed the capability to travel in interstellar space.
And Jeryl himself had given nothing away.
Ashley pushed her astonishment away and paid attention to what the alien was saying. He introduced himself as Command Legate Ghosal, of the Sonali race.
As unobtrusively as possible, she asked their computer for a definition of “legate,” because although she had heard of the word, she couldn’t recall what it meant. The computer came back with the definition: an ecclesiastic delegated by the Pope as his representative.
A what, now? She thought. This alien is a religious official? Captaining a starship?
Unless there was something seriously wrong with the translation—a possibility she was willing to entertain—what they had just learned was that God was a concept not limited to the human race.
Don’t get ahead of yourself here, she thought to herself.
Religion was still practiced on Earth and among the Outer Colonies, but it lacked the prevalence it once had. It had been reduced to the level of a hobbyist’s pursuit; organized religion perished in the aftermath of World War III. Too many bad things happened to too many good people for religion to sustain among the survivors in the ruins of the cities across the globe—people who had resorted to drinking filthy rainwater and catching rats and cockroaches for food hadn’t had the time to listen to sermons.
Do unto others was a splendid idea before, for people who had a warm place to sleep. But when they had no more than rags to wear, and were either too cold or too hot or too sick to feed their children, the basic human drive for survival took over. Rather than love thy neighbor, they were more inclined to clout him—or her—over the head and take the rat that they caught for dinner…and the neighbor himself may end up as dinner.
It happened over and over after the war. The race came closer to extinction than it ever had before. Two-fifths of humanity died. Maybe more. God hadn’t saved anyone. Nor did Mohammed, or any of the others who’d been held in high esteem for so long.
Yet, here they were confronted with Ghosal, an individual who was apparently the representative of a theocracy.
Talk about unexpected, thought Ashley.
Ghosal continued. “We were on a routine surveying mission when we picked up the signals from your ship, and came in for a closer look.”
Jeryl was as cool as a chilled wine glass. “So you have no knowledge of our fellows aboard their ship?”
“I regret to say that we do not,” said Ghosal. “This is a region of space that is only a few lightyears from the border of Sonali territory.”
“You say you were on a routine surveying mission,” Jeryl said.
“That is correct, Captain Montgomery. We noticed the wreckage of your Mariner and are saddened to hear of the loss of life of those aboard.”
“Thank you.”
“I would like to offer our help. We will help you search for whoever or whatever is responsible for the tragedy.”
“That’s very kind of you, Command Legate Ghosal,” said Jeryl. “It’s an unusual coincidence to find you here so near The Mariner.”
“I am not sure I understand what you mean.”
“If I may be perfectly frank with you, Command Legate, this is the first time an individual of our race has encountered another intelligent species. For us, this is an historical moment.”
“How pleased I am, then, to be able to share it. I am deeply honored.”
Oh, you smooth SOB, Ashley thought. This was not the way she had ever imagined a First Contact would go. Ghosal spoke more like a politician than a ship’s captain.
She caught a telltale blinking on her console. It was Dr. Lannigan.
“Yes?” she said quietly.
“Something’s not right,” said the Science Officer. “Judging by what I see here, both our race and the Sonali seem to be more or less on an equal footing when it comes to technology. Their ship dwarfs ours, but if they are on a routine scouting mission...”
“Yes,” she said, getting the drift of his reasoning.
“I find it interesting that you have dispatched such a large vessel in a routine mission,” Jeryl was saying to Ghosal.
Great minds, she thought, smell the same rat.
“It seems like a big expenditure of resources.”
Interstellar travel was expensive; at least, it as for humankind. It was one reason why ships were relatively small, and why they ended up recycling the hell out of everything.
It’s why we have to pay for our own damn coffee.
If the Sonali were indeed approximately as developed as they were, then this little “routine scouting mission” of theirs was costing them deep in the purse. A ship as big as theirs wasn’t fit for a simply scouting mission. What they had was a full-scale research vessel, and probably one that was fully armed.
In fact, Ashley thought, I’d wager my lower left wisdom tooth that these guys are loaded for bear.
Something here was definitely not right.
Ghosal wasn’t taking Jeryl’s implication very well. “I am not sure I understand what you are saying, Captain Montgomery.”
The translation didn’t put an edge to his voice, but Ashley thought she’d bet her other lower wisdom tooth that there was one in his original clocks and pops.
“Oh, well, you know,” said Jeryl, being rather elaborately casual. “It’s simply that I wish my people could afford to build such an impressive vehicle simply for scouting purposes.”
“Captain,” said Ghosal, “I believe that the best course for you at this time would be to take the information we have gathered form our study of your lost ship’s wreckage, and return to your home world with it.”
“Yes, I appreciate your position, Command Legate Ghosal, but I’m afraid I can’t do that. We’re sticking around here until we determine exactly what happened to our people.”
His voice grew very hard. “And we mean to collect their remains, if at all possible. They have families and loved ones back on Earth who will want to know what happened. I will do my best to tell them.”
There was silence from Ghosal’s end of the conversation. Then the alien said, “If I may suggest, you would do better to understand that this is Sonali space, and you are here only on our forbearance.”
“Thank you, Command Legate, I will take that under advisement.”
And with that, Jeryl reached out and tapped on the controls.
The communications link with Ghosal’s ship was severed.
“Well,” said Jeryl, sitting back and smiling at them. “That was an interesting little chat. What do you suppose they’ll do now?”
Chapter 14
Jeryl
Admiral Flynn wasn’t so sanguine about the encounter when Jeryl reported it to him, which he did shortly after he broke the link between The Seeker and Command Legate Ghosal’s ship.
Jeryl made the call via slipstream in his office, because he had a feeling he wasn’t going to approve of his actions. And at first, he didn’t.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Flynn said, smoothing back his hair with both hands. “Montgomery, do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Yes,” the captain said, as calmly as he could. In the face of his outrage, he was having second thoughts. Had he screwed up humanity’s first contact with an alien species?
No, he decided, I won’t allow myself to think this.
“I’ve faced down an authoritarian by adopting an even more authoritarian stance.”
Flynn glanced to one side as though appealing to an off-camera observer for help.
“Listen, Captain...I know you have a reputation for thinking outside or above the parameters of a given problem. You were showing flashes of tactical brilliance as far back as your first year in the Academy.”
He leaned closer to the camera.
“But all the problems you faced in your schooling were hypotheticals...against human antagonists, whose responses you could rely on as being on a spectrum calibrated to human emotions. You could, in other words, use hunches and guesses to determine how an antagonist might respond.”
He shook his head. “You’ve tried to finesse your confrontation with Ghosal in human terms! You can’t be certain that he’ll react as a human being would.”
“I was willing to take that risk,” Jeryl replied.
That wasn’t the right thing to say. Flynn slammed his fist down on his console, and the picture wavered for an instant.
“You took that risk on the part of your entire crew!”
A commanding officer must take the welfare of his people into account. He could not put them in harm’s way.
It’s possible that I didn’t have that fact in the forefront of my mind when I cut off communication with Ghosal, Jeryl admitted to himself.
But when he looked around at his CNC officers, he saw no scowls or looks of fear. They glanced at him with approval on their faces, and he took heart from that. They trusted him.
“They trust me,” he said to Flynn then, with confidence. He glowered at Jeryl, but then a grin broke through.
“I know they do, son, I know they do.”
Thank the stars, he’ settling down, thought Jeryl. He’d never call him “son” if he wasn’t; Admiral Howard Flynn didn’t rise to his level of authority by being easy-going, but Jeryl always had the ability to “read” him, and vice versa. They understood each other.
The Admiral once told him, after a couple of drinks at some diplomatic get-together, that Jeryl reminded him of himself when he was young. The captain took that both as a compliment, and as a confidence. He had never shared it with anyone.
Since then they had shared a... well, Jeryl would hesitate to call it a bond, but he would go so far as to say that he believed they understood each other.
“Jeryl, I won’t sugar-coat it; your situation is being monitored at the highest levels.”
He nodded. This was the one time when he could make up his mind if he was glad that they had instantaneous communications capability via slipstream, or whether he regretted it.
On the one hand, it was good to know that someone had his back. If he missed a regularly scheduled report, Flynn would be on the case immediately. But on the other hand, what he was dealing with was essentially a committee that wanted to second-guess him.
Flynn knew this, and he also knew that it was in his interest to let Jeryl have full discretion. He knew the admiral was shielding him from a dozen officials who outranked him, and even from Flynn himself. Those of them in the field had to be allowed to make command decisions on the fly without interference from above.
“Let me ask you this, Captain,” Flynn said. “Do you have any assessment of their military capabilities?”
Jeryl had to shake his head.
“All I know is what I see, sir,” he replied. “It’s a big ship—bigger than anything we have. It could be fully automated, I suppose; even this Ghosal could be a hologram or a synth puppet run by their vessel’s AI. But what would be the point of that? Why would they bother? No, I think he’s got himself a flying city, more or less.”
Flynn considered this. “To what end?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s as he claims; they’re a research vessel. There’s no guarantee that an alien race would use small scout ships and research vessels like we do. But I think there’s something else going on.”
Bluntly, he asked, “Do you think they destroyed The Mariner?”
Now it was the captain’s turn to digest his words. “I...don’t think I do.”
“Why not?”
“Because, if he’s telling the truth about being in contact with other alien races, they would have learned by now that appearances can fool you. Sure, he’d be careful approaching The Mariner even though it’s like an elephant approaching a flea. But even if he sent off that puzzle transmission of his, he wouldn’t fire on them simply because they didn’t respond. He’s got to have enough experience to have tried something else.”
Flynn nodded slowly. “Yes, that makes sense...to our way of thinking. But as you pointed out there’s no reason to suppose that they think like we do.”
“I believe they do, more or less,” Jeryl answered. “Ghosal has an attitude, and I understand that. He seems pretty human to me in terms of his emotional colors. We solved his puzzles. He’s no fool—arrogant, yes—but no fool. His ship could swat us out of space, but at this point I’m not liking him for the culprit.”
The Admiral drew a deep breath but simply nodded at him.
“That said, sir,” Jeryl said, “What do you want me to do?”
“The main thing is to make sure this blue-faced so-and-so either is, or is not responsible for what happened to The Mariner. If not, we’re good, and history proceeds. If he did it, well, we’re in a pretty pile, and I don’t mind saying so. It’ll be a mess, son, a big steaming mess.”
“I know.”
“Very well,” said Flynn. “Stay safe, but don’t back down.”
He smiled. “I suppose I don’t really need to say that to you, do I?”
He smiled back. “No sir, you do not.”
“I thought not. Flynn out.” And he cut the slipstream link.
After he did, the captain sat back, looking around his office. It was comfortable, but not what anyone would call luxurious. He had an art screen that was usually tuned to Impressionist painters, his bunk, a closet, and a desk with a chair—which was where he’s sitting, looking at the blank slipstream monitor.
He didn’t want to go back into CNC, but he didn’t want to be alone, either. He put in a call to Ashley.
“Lieutenant,” he said, “I want to see you.”
“Sir,” she replied crisply. Within a minute, the door announced her arrival.
“You were talking to Flynn,” she said
“Was I that obvious?”
“You have that look on your face, that ‘I just had a chat with my boss’ look.”
“I didn’t know I had one of those.”
“Well, you do. What did he say?”
He gave her a précis of the conversation. She listened, nodding.
“He’s being pretty reasonable,” she said.
“Yeah, considering that he could fry my ass if he wanted.”
She scoffed. “I don’t think he would ever do that, even if you screwed up royally. Which you are not about to do.”
“Not deliberately, anyway.”
She turned serious. “That encounter with Ghosal or whatever his name is...what do you think he’ll do?”
“I really don’t know. I think, I hope, that he’ll reply as an equal, and not send a torpedo into our guts.”
“Can we deflect one if he does?”
“No idea.”
“An action like that would make the Sonali into the biggest and nastiest bad guys we’ve ever met,” she said. “I mean Mankind, not us.”
“That’s completely correct.”
She let out a small chuckle. “I suppose there’s one good thing to be said about it.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Humans won’t be hating AIs anymore. We’ll all be on the same side. Every xenophobe in the Union will have a new target.”
“Yeah, no, that’s some cold comfort, there, Ashley.”
She smiled ruefully at him. “It’s all I have for you right now, Jeryl.”
At that moment, his screen lit up and he saw Mary Taylor's face. She looked frightened.
“There’s a new transmission from the alien.”
“We’ll be right there,” he told her. Ashley and the captain headed out the door on the double.
Chapter 15
Jeryl
When Ashley and Jeryl entered CNC, they immediately sensed the tension. Jeryl sped to Mary's station. Her face was damp with perspiration. He lay what he hoped was a calming hand on her shoulder.
“What’s going on, Lieutenant?”
“We’re being hailed by the Sonali craft,” she said.
“I’ll take it at my station,” he told her. “Put it on the main screen as well.”
The grim blue visage of command Legate Ghosal swam into view on the small viewer before him, while giving the air around the big screen at the front of the chamber a sickly beryl tinge.
Without preamble, Ghosal said, “I have been in touch with my superiors.”
A thought clicked into place at the back of the Captain’s mind. Ghosal had inadvertently revealed that he, like them, had the capability to communicate FTL. This fellow isn’t as smart as he thinks he is, thought Jeryl.
Ghosal clicked and popped at them.
“Captain Montgomery,” he said in translation. “You were given clear instructions to leave this place. Why, then, are you still here?”
Once more, Jeryl’s mind flashed back to one of Professor Guss’s lectures.
* * *
“Let’s look at some hypothetical situations,” Professor Guss said, pacing back and forth at the front of the room. The hall had stadium seating, so it was easy for Jeryl to see him. Plus, less than a quarter of the seats were filled. The class was an elective, and it was obvious that most students didn’t consider it to be worth their while. But Professor Guss never seemed to mind.
“You’ve landed on a planet that you know has intelligent life. You have seen cities from orbit, and individual structures. But these people are pre-spaceflight. They’ve lofted no satellites, and haven’t visited any of the other worlds in their star system. With all the best intentions, you set down on their planet in some out-of-the-way spot near one of their urban centers so that you can observe them before deciding whether to contact them or not.”
Alyce Teodosio’s hand shot up. She was a small, intense Latina who rarely smiled.
“We shouldn’t contact them at all,” she said. “Ideally, we wouldn’t interfere with the course of their natural advancement.”
He pointed at her.
“And there are studies that back you up, Miss Teodosio. They claim that any contact with a pre-spaceflight people could result in a deleterious effect on their confidence in their own efforts. They could stop trying, in other words,” he said.
Jeryl raised his hand, and the professor nodded at him.
“I don’t necessarily agree,” he said. “Instead of being intimidated, they could just as easily be spurred on to develop their technology, because they would have proof that it could be done.”
“It might depend on how advanced they were,” said a young man with a blonde buzz cut. “If they were on the level of Cro-Magnons, say, they might run and hide, whereas if they were as advanced as Persia around the time of Jesus, they might ride out to investigate, with weapons ready but not intending to attack.”
“Or if they were like Nazi Germany, they might just start shooting in the hope of capturing that shiny starship.” Alyce said, turning to look at him.
“Any one of these possibilities could be true,” Professor Guss said. “Which is why you would, one hopes, as captain of that Union ship, spend a good amount of time observing them clandestinely. We currently have no laws covering First Contact, even though we have been exploring nearby star systems for many years. There have been efforts to create such laws, but the idea of intelligent extraterrestrial life simply isn’t taken seriously at the higher echelons of our government. One day that will change, but by then it may be too late.”
“But let’s move on to other scenarios,” he said. “We won’t consider the possibility of contacting a benevolent species, because that’s a happy-ending sort of thing. Peace and love, blah blah blah.”
He smiled at the ripple of laughter in the hall.
“Let’s assume that you are the captain of an exploratory vessel that has entered a system that’s home to a technologically advanced civilization. As you approach the target planet you see that it’s ringed with myriad satellites, hundreds, maybe thousands. Perhaps there are bases on the outlying planets. You’ve taken care to avoid contact with them, and once you arrive at the home world, you’re glad you did. Scans tell you that many of the orbital stations are carrying nuclear as well as conventional weapons. The planet’s surface is environmentally degraded by mining for elements used in making weapons, and by insufficiently shielded nuclear plants. You may be surprised that they haven’t yet blown themselves to atoms or poisoned themselves to death.”
Laughter rippled across the hall again, but this time it was a little muted. After all, something like this almost happened to their own planet.
“Miss Teodosio?” He lifted his eyebrows at her.
“I’d definitely want to lay off at a distance and observe them,” said Alyce.
“So would I,” he said, “but for the sake of the discussion, let’s say they detect you and start shooting.”
She blinked. “I wouldn’t return fire.”
“Why not? They have proven their aggressive nature. It’s clear that if they manage to get out of their system, they could spread that aggression and perhaps prove to be a danger to us. Why wouldn’t you at least knock the attacking satellites out of space?”
Jeryl raised his hand again. “I’d sequester them,” he said. “Make sure they couldn’t be a threat to anyone else. Maybe incapacitate their weapons satellites and put up our own, to keep an eye on them.”
“But doing that would be the same as interfering with their natural advancement, as Miss Teodosio suggested a while ago.”
He bit his lips. “In the strict sense, yes; but if their ‘natural advancement’ would imperil us or other species, it would be justified—in my opinion.”
“And if this sequestration or segregation results in extreme hardship for them? When we could have assisted them to mature past their ‘primitive’ behavior?”
The students casted uneasy glances at each other.
“They’d have every reason to fear and hate us, if we shot down their satellites,” Alyce said. “I’d say do nothing, but establish an observation post to keep an eye on them. If they get out of hand, I don’t know...some sort of escalation would be necessary.”
“Possibly, possibly,” said Professor Guss. “And we can leave it at that point.”
“But what’s the answer, sir?” Jeryl asked. “How can we know what to do?”
Professor Guss smiled at me. “That will be for you or one of your colleagues to tell us,” he said. “And I wish you luck. Because there really is no answer.”
* * *
Now, Jeryl was in a situation close to the one posited by his old professor. And he had no idea what to do. He was winging it, but he won’t tell anyone else that that’s the case. He glanced over at Ashley in her station, and he saw her looking him.
Jeryl was sure she suspected. He gave her a smile that was as calm as he could make it.
“I apologize if I’m causing any stress, Command Legate,” he said, “but my orders are to determine what happened to our ship. I regret to say that we can’t leave until we accomplish that task.”
“Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear,” Ghosal said, a distinct edge to the translated voice. Their computers weren’t as sophisticated as ground-based machines, but even so, they were running neural networks with strong learning capabilities. They were very good at analyzing subtext from both tone and body language, and it was obvious that they had been able to educate themselves about the Sonalian emotional spectrum. Professor Guss would be happy.
“You’re trespassing in our territory,” Ghosal went on, “but we’ve no wish to be punitive. I offer you a choice: come as an ambassador to the Home Planet, or leave.”
And for the first time, the Captain saw Ghosal smile. It wasn’t a pleasant sight.
“Or you can die.”
“You’re threatening me?” he asked, surprised despite himself.
Professor, I wish you were here with me now. I could benefit from some calm insight!
And Jeryl heard him reply, Don’t react to his words. Think: What is he truly upset about? His civilization is familiar with others. There’s something different here for him, and he’s being reactionary. That doesn’t jibe with the idea of a cosmopolitan space-faring species. Perhaps there’s a personal for him in your interactions.
Personal? the Captain replied. How can that be? I don’t know him. I have no idea what his background could be. I don’t know what his cultural imperatives are.
Then you’d better think about them, Guss said, and his shade evaporated.
I haven’t got time to ponder abstract concepts like cultural imperatives—why has my mind even thrown that idea into my consciousness? Jeryl thought.
Ghosal said, “These are not threats, Captain. They are statements of fact. You must choose which path you will pursue.”
The screen blanked out.
Chapter 16
Jeryl
Jeryl stared at a blank screen, with everyone in CNC waiting to see what he would say or do. He was waiting to find out, as well.
What he did was stand, lifted his chin, and said, “I’ll be in my office.”
Without another word, he left CNC.
He needed to think about what Professor Guss had to say about cultural imperatives because there was something there—he was sure of it.
But there was another little detail he wanted to check on as well, and as soon as he was alone he did. He signaled Gunny, the Armory AI, and had a brief discussion with him. After he was done, he was sure that The Seeker stood no chance of winning a firefight with Ghosal’s ship. Analysis of the behemoth’s systems showed that they were not only outgunned, they would also most likely be chased down and swatted out of space with little effort on the part of the Sonali.
They weren’t a great deal more advanced than The Seeker was, but the gap was wide enough to give the Sonalis an edge. Jeryl’s crew could probably improve their navigation and propulsion systems to match them; he knew for a fact that they had ships on the drawing board that would be able to put up a stiff defense against Ghosal. But there had been no need for the Union to put any crash programs into development. The Outers weren’t any more advanced than the Union, so the improvement in their military capabilities hadn’t been a priority. Until now.
But what Jeryl really wanted to think about was what Professor Guss had said about possible differences between intelligent species. Because there was a hint there, he believed, if he could find it quickly enough.
* * *
“So let’s talk about the day after First Contact,” Professor Guss said at the beginning of another lecture.
“You can talk to each other, and relations are being established. This is a good time to reflect on adaptation. Both sides are going to have to make changes in their worldviews if the relationship is to be successful. So you need to be aware of three levels of interaction: cultural exclusives, cultural electives, and cultural imperatives.”
He paused, and there was silence in the hall. No one had a clue what he was talking about.
“You’re thinking that you’ve wandered into a sociology class,” he said, smiling. “In a way, you have. But sociology is at the bottom of all the things I’m trying to teach you. Without some understanding of how the other guy’s social relationships and interactions work, you’ll never get beyond the ‘C-A-T spells cat’ and ‘1 plus 1 equals 2’ stage of communication. What I am saying here is that the problems only begin when you first meet.”
He snapped his fingers and a virtual data board appeared. On it were written three things: cultural exclusives, cultural electives, and cultural imperatives.
“So, what’s a cultural exclusive?” he said. “These are local customs. Earth is one planet, but it’s broken up into countries and nations, and those are broken up into states or territories, which are further broken into regions.
“Cultural exclusives pertain to regional people. To give a broad example, if you were a Christian, you wouldn’t go to a Muslim country and try to act like a Muslim. That would be deeply insulting. By the same token, you can joke about your own family, but if an outsider makes fun of them, you’ll be furious. That’s a cultural exclusive.”
He looked around. “Are we clear on that?”
There are murmurs of agreement from the audience, including Jeryl.
“Good. Now let’s move up the ladder to cultural electives. Those are customs also, but you needn’t conform to them. For example, in the Czech Republic, it used to be customary for alcohol to be offered at the start of a business meeting, even if it was eight o’clock in the morning. If you wished to be considered polite, you’d take a sip. It needn’t be more than that. Muslims would offer coffee to signal friendship. And so on.”
More murmurs of agreement and understanding, much nodding of heads.
“And at the top of the list are cultural imperatives,” said the professor. “Now, these are customs that you simply must adhere to if you want to be successful and show genuine respect. This becomes slippery. To be successful in a post-first-contact world, you will have to build a relationship with the other side.”
He paused.
“I see many puzzled looks. As if to say, ‘Well, that’s obvious, Professor Guss.’ It should be, I agree; but it really isn’t. Upon meeting the representative of an alien civilization, you have to understand that you will not be communicating with the civilization—you will be communicating with a person, even if he doesn’t look like any person you ever heard of.
“And if you don’t build a relationship with him—or her, or it, whatever—you are doomed to fail because at the bottom, communication is between people, not companies or religions. Can anyone tell me why this is?”
Jeryl thought as hard as he ever have in my life; he was sure he understood his professor’s line of reasoning. He raised his hand.
“Yes, Mr. Montgomery,” he said, nodding at him.
Jeryl took a breath. “You have to build trust.”
He grinned. “That is exactly right. Trust will make or break a deal. Is there another example of a cultural imperative?”
A Japanese girl raised her hand.
“In my culture,” she said, “you can’t act in such a way as to lose face or to cause someone else to lose face.”
“Excellent,” the professor said. “There are other examples, of course. In Japan prolonged eye contact is considered offensive.”
The Japanese girl nodded.
“However,” said Professor Guss, “In Arab and Latin American regions, strong eye contact is necessary or else, you’ll be regarded as evasive and unreliable. So you have to have an awareness of the culture with which you are communicating.”
“But that’s not going to be possible with extraterrestrials,” Jeryl said. “We will be in a cultural vacuum.”
“And that,” said Professor Guss, “is precisely my point. You may well find yourself in a position where you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t.”
“Well, what do we do then?”
“You will have to weigh the possibilities as best you can, and take the course that results in the least amount of burning.”
It was terribly frustrating. Guss’ class, which cadets had taken almost as a lark, had become the most thought-provoking one of all. Whereas they could study navigational problems all week long and arrive at exact methodologies, they could discuss cultural imperatives for a year and never solve the problem.
* * *
What I have to do is to look at the situation from Ghosal’s point of view, much as it pains me to do so, Jeryl admits to himself.
From his viewpoint, they were interlopers, and trespassers; no matter how valid their reasons were to themselves. It could well be that the only way to approach the problem was to request permission to investigate the region of space. As far as Ghosal was concerned, they had barged in without so much as a by-your-leave.
The fact that they hadn’t had a clue that Ghosal’s ship was there or that the nebula was considered private property didn’t matter in the least.
Ignorance of the law, as the old saying goes, is no excuse.
Jeryl tapped his fingers on his console. He was going to have to do something he didn’t want to do. Admiral Flynn wasn’t going to like it. His crew wasn’t going to like it. Hell, he didn’t like it.
Knowing that he was going to leave himself open to all sorts of criticism from every level of command, he closed his eyes.
Hellfire, Professor, he thought, when you said there would be times when I’d be damned if I did and damned if I didn’t, you didn’t know the half of it.
Jeryl brushed off his uniform—a delaying tactic. He didn’t want to go back out into the CNC and tell them what he had to tell them.
He was wrong; there wasn’t a clue to be had in his memory of the professor’s discussion on cultural imperatives. Not as far as problem solving, anyway.
The captain thought, the subtext is clear: this is a test of me, of Jeryl Montgomery.
Jeryl had to do the right thing. Which meant he couldn’t stand up to these Sonali bastards and dare them to shoot his ass off, because they would—along with the collective ass of his crew.
He was now pretty fucking sure that those blue skinned bastards destroyed The Mariner.
But the universe doesn’t care. And we can’t get any vengeance now.
Jeryl Montgomery could risk his crew to stay and bring justice to these people—but he dared not risk that.
And so, with as much dignity and gravitas as he can muster, he re-entered the CNC and said, “Mr. Ferriero, lay in a course for home.” There is dead silence as The Seeker’s FTL engines engage, flinging us into interstellar space.
Captain Jeryl wasn’t happy.
Book II
Book II
2197-2202
Chapter 1
Jeryl
“Another Davosian ale please,” Jeryl asked the waiter as the man came by. He glanced at Ashley who was sitting next to him at the table, and then to Dr. Mahesh who was sitting on the other side.
It had been three months since Jeryl had turned The Seeker around and ten days since war had been declared, and right now the trio watched the news briefings with deeper and deeper gloom in the crowded New Washington bar.
Jeryl looked out the window from his seat. They were up on the 135th floor of the Cartright Building in New Washington’s Commerce District.
The Commerce District took up most of the equatorial continent that the planet-city dwellers had named ‘Bartomine’, and from where he was sitting, Jeryl had a view of the bustling skyline that was the economic hub in the vast expanse of Terran Union space.
It had to happen eventually, Jeryl thought to himself. Earth was so far away. So long had it been recovering from the near extinction that the humans of prior generations had wrought upon it that as it was slowly growing back to its former glory, a colony world ideally suited across several different shipping lanes would blossom and grow.
This is more than just a colony world.
Earth may still be the political, social, and economic leader within the Terran Union, but a competing axis of influence was spreading away from the inner worlds of the Terran Union. New Washington was populated by humans who had never set foot on Earth, by people whose parents had never set foot on Earth. They didn’t feel like they owed any allegiance to the world aside from the fact that it was held in reverence for being the cradle of humanity.
It was the seat of power, sure, but it could have just as easily been anywhere else that was far removed.
In fact, the presence of Armada Command installations across this planet spoke to how the Terran Armada had recognized this fact and began to build on it.
“Earth to Captain Montgomery,” Ashley called out in her lilting voice and Jeryl was snapped out of his reverie. He realized he’d been zoning out, thinking about the state of humanity—and then Ashley had called him back down to Earth.
There it was again. The cultural significance of the homeworld. Where humanity had sprung from. Where Jeryl’s father had been born before securing passage on a freighter and making a life for himself on Mars.
Earth would never lose its significance or cease to be a central world in the scope of human affairs. It may recede in importance as newer worlds were developed and took the stage, but it would always be the home for humanity.
“You seem rather distant, Captain,” Mahesh said. “The war?”
Jeryl shrugged, coming back to the conversation. It had been ten days and The Seeker was still in New Washington Spacedock, waiting for orders. In that time, several engagements had already been fought—one in the nebula itself.
Thirteen ships had gone into the nebula, led by the TUS Celestia. They had encountered a Sonali dreadnought. This time, the Sonali had backed up their demands that the humans leave with actions, and had opened fire.
Out of the thirteen ships that went in, only the Celestia had survived.
That day, the President of the Terran Union, Joshua Harmon, had gone on slipstream to the entire known galaxy from the Terran Council chambers in Geneva.
And he had declared war on the Sonali.
What followed was swift and savage.
News reports carried scenes of carnage, almost as if the Sonali were waiting for a reason to strike at these humans whom they had just met four months ago. The reaction from the Terran Union was no less savage, although it was often in vain.
Sonali ships swept past human fleets—their ships dwarfing anything that the Terran Armada could field against them.
“Are you worried, Captain?” Ashley asked.
Jeryl frowned. “We’re on leave, Ashley,” he said. “I don’t mind if you call me Jeryl.”
He knew that it wasn’t encouraged to be informal with one’s officers, but Jeryl wasn’t looking at Ashley as his first officer at that moment.
He was looking at her as a woman. The same one he had spent his entire weekend of shore leave entwined with on New Sydney.
Her legs. Her chest. Her entire body screamed sex. No matter what she was doing, Jeryl couldn’t help but be turned on.
“Well, Captain, I can’t,” Ashley said as Jeryl looked at her. She maintained a stony expression for a while before breaking out into a wicked grin that made his stomach do somersaults. “It would be…inappropriate.”
Dr. Mahesh watched the interplay between the captain and his first officer and smiled. When Jeryl turned to his friend, Mahesh shrugged.
“Listen, Captain,” he said with an air of nonchalance as he pointed to the massive viewer spouting news on the wall of the bar. “When you see this happening nowadays, I say to hell with Armada regulations. Do what brings you satisfaction in the here and now.”
Jeryl smiled and nodded. But then his attention turned to the screen that Mahesh had pointed to and he sighed.
The scene from the recent skirmish along the border was troubling.
News footage from an unmanned drone showed the debris of several Terran Union vessels. The commentator was discussing the logistics of the war with a retired Admiral.
“They say that it was five battleships that met three Sonali dreadnoughts on the border,” Ashley said, her tone grim. “They dropped fighters but the Sonali weapons cut them down before they even managed to land any blows on the ships. They made pretty short work of the battleships too. Took them out one by one. The Samira was the only one that had a chance to get away, but the Reynolds and the Minerva weren’t so lucky.”
“How many people on a battleship?” Mahesh asked.
“About four hundred,” Jeryl said, his eyes never leaving the screen. “They never even had a chance. What were the Sonali hitting?”
“It seems like they were probably going for the slipstream array that the Armada had in the system, Captai—Jeryl,” Ashley said, taking a sip of her ale. “Cut down communications in the area.”
“Which means that they’re coming after one of those border colony worlds next,” Jeryl said. “Which weren’t even border worlds a few months ago.”
“We didn’t even know the Sonali existed back then.”
Jeryl nodded, darkness overtaking his thoughts once more. “It’s almost as if we went from First Contact to war before anyone could stop and realize what was going on,” he said to no one in particular. “Why didn’t we see that we were overmatched?”
Mahesh and Ashley didn’t say anything, though they knew what Jeryl was alluding to. The Terran Union was hopelessly inferior in both ships and war fighting abilities to the Sonali Combine. Their battleships—long the pride of the Terran Armada—were half the size of Sonali dreadnoughts. Their frigates could be compared to flies.
The Sonali had made this point over the last week as they launched coordinated strikes against key worlds.
“Any word about when The Seeker is being sent back to Davos II?” Ashley asked as the camera began to repeat footage of the area of space where the battle had occurred. Flaming debris from destroyed Terran Armada vessel floated along benignly.
“We’re supposed to wait for orders here,” Jeryl said curtly. He immediately regretted his choice of words. Ashley was simply curious. In a less harsh tone he looked at her and said, “If the Admiralty wants us near Davos II, I’m sure they won’t be shy.”
Ashley shrugged. Her face frowned as she thought about what Jeryl said. It didn’t make any sense to him either. Why assign a ship to patrol and be a part of a task force designed to protect a colony of 10 million people when the lead starship was over 100 light years away and the captain was drinking Davosian Ale with his subordinates?
It was at that time that Jeryl’s comms went off and he checked who it was.
“Admiral Flynn,” Jeryl said to Ashley and Mahesh as he read the message and realized the implications.
“He says...” Jeryl paused for a moment as he considered the message over. He wanted to be out there. No matter how long it took to retrofit the ships, he wanted to avoid the fate of the Celestia.
But it was unfair He had to tell them.
Now.
“The Seeker is being ordered for combat duty,” he said. “She’s going to war.”
Chapter 2
Ashley
“Helm,” Jeryl commanded from his seat on CNC. “Signal the fleet to hold formation as we come out of FTL space and into the battle zone. We need to stay tight and hit the Sonali dreadnought in the center of their fleet. We only get one chance.”
Ashley studied the readouts from her station. It had been three days since The Seeker was given orders that removed it from its berth at New Washington Spacedock.
Armada Command was sending Jeryl to the Calendra system, along what was now being established as the border between the Terran Union and the Sonali Combine. Leading a flotilla of 22 ships, The Seeker was tasked to intercept a Sonali battle fleet that was heading to the colony world of Calendra II.
“We’re apparently not going in to drive them back,” Jeryl told her in confidence in his office as the ship had cruised through space at FTL 5. “We don’t have the ability to take on the approximately 20 ships the Sonali are using. And we’ve already lost a fleet of seven ships along the way.”
Ashley was surprised when she heard him say that. It wasn’t like the Terran Armada to prepare for defeat in the face of a battle. She told him so.
“We’re not planning for defeat here, Commander,” Jeryl replied. Was it just her or was she starting to associate him more as Jeryl and less as Captain Montgomery, she wondered. Maybe it was New Sydney. Maybe it was the brief shore leave they had enjoyed right as war had broken out. But whatever it was, their bond seemed closer now than it had been for a while.
“What are the parameters for mission success then, if its not to drive out the Sonali invasion of the Calendra system?” Ashley asked at that point.
Jeryl sighed to himself and then passed along the mission briefing packet to the First Officer.
“We need to ensure that Calendra II is given the time to evacuate as many colonists as possible before the Sonali arrive. If necessary, we are to engage the Sonali and make a stand to buy time for the citizens to evacuate,” Jeryl stated. “If needed, our lives are expendable to ensure that as many colonists get out as possible.”
Ashley simply nodded. It wasn’t the time to point out that a large number of Terran Union bureaucratic functions for the Edoris Sector. That this plan to slow down the Sonali but not actually defeat them was giving up before the first shot had been fired. That out of the million colonists on Calendra II, only a small number were probably being evacuated.
“What happens to the people who won’t be able to evacuate?” Ashley asked.
Jeryl looked pained as he replied to her. “The automated defense platforms and the colony defenses will try to hold off the Sonali as long as possible.”
Ashley looked at him and couldn’t help herself from retorting, “Jeryl, you know that there are about three hundred thousand odd bureaucrats on Calendra II. I’m sure that we’ll give our last to get them all the time they need to FTL out of here. But what about the rest of the people?”
“Ash, we have a job to do and Armada Command believes that we need to ensure that critical segments of the population are given time to re-establish operations elsewhere,” was all Jeryl could bring himself to say.
“No wonder we’re getting our asses handed to us,” Ashley sneered. “It’s not even a month in and we’ve given up after a few engagements. Now we’re throwing some people to the wolves while the ones who got us in this mess are fleeing for safety.”
There was nothing that Jeryl could say to that. They both knew that their orders were clear; to engage and harry the enemy and draw them out as long as possible.
“So that the greatest number of people can continue the fight,” Jeryl said before dismissing Ashley.
* * *
“Disengaging FTL drives and coming into normal space, Captain,” the helmsman alerted Jeryl.
Ashley looked over to the viewscreen. She noticed Jeryl tense up.
“Put me through to the fleet,” Jeryl instructed Communications and waited until he was given the signal before delivering his message.
“Attention, flotilla. This is Captain Jeryl Montgomery. We’re going in to stop the Sonali dreadnought and her support craft from getting into the Caldera system. Crazy Horse, Chuckchansi, George Washington, Yorktown, Hirohito, and San Francisco, as discussed, you will engage the peripheral Sonali vessels as the remainder of the fleet while The Seeker goes after the dreadnought head on. Keep this channel open for secure intraship communications. Montgomery out.”
The channel was muted and an otherworldly red glare lit the CNC as The Seeker went to battle alert.
Moments later, the flotilla dropped out of FTL and into the outskirts of the Caldera system.
And into chaos.
“Sensors detect twenty small crafts strafing the lead Sonali frigates, Captain,” Ashley called out from her station. A moment later she looked at the viewscreen to see a motley collection of Terran fighters launching torpedoes against a Sonali craft that dwarfed the fighters by a magnitude of five.
“That’s got to be the colonial defenses,” Jeryl said, more to himself than anyone, before directing his next command to the tactical officer. “Let’s begin our run. Weapons ready, defensive shields at maximum, full speed.”
Ashley could sense the palpable tension in the air. This was the most dangerous mission that many of the crew of The Seeker had ever engaged in. Fighting border skirmishes with the Human Confederation, otherwise known as the Outer Colonies was one thing.
Tackling an alien life form that was apparently much more advanced than humanity and had only been discovered less than six months ago?
Completely different.
She could see it in the way people tried to do their jobs without letting the fear get to them. How they answered the Captain that they were launching torpedoes on the dreadnought.
She could hear the collective gasp through the CNC as the viewscreen showed, in unmerciful detail, the two lead Sonali frigates veer away from the main fleet and concentrate their weapons on the Crazy Horse.
Ashley turned to her sensors and watched as particle beams from the Sonali ships lanced out towards the Crazy Horse. The ship attempted to follow normal Armada protocol and launched torpedoes to blunt the intensity of the particle beams, but the Sonali ships were able to sustain their fire at top speeds and they began to batter the defensive shielding on Crazy Horse.
“Crazy Horse shields are buckling, Captain,” Ashley found herself announcing. “They won’t last much longer under a barrage like that.”
As if to vindicate her assessment, the viewscreen dimmed itself to compensate for the intense bright explosion as the antimatter drive of the Crazy Horse exploded, ripping the entire ship apart with all hands lost. Ashley watched as the helmsmen covered their eyes from the brightness of the blast instinctively.
They weren’t in the battle more than ten minutes and had already lost a top of the line Terran Armada vessel.
“Concentrate our fire on the dreadnought weapons systems, come in at bearing five, three, zero, one, from their aft side,” Jeryl instructed, not giving himself a chance to get distracted by the loss of a fellow ship.
The crew complied and The Seeker raced through a fusillade of enemy fire to launch several torpedoes that struck the Sonali dreadnought’s aft weapons.
Ashley watched her sensors keenly as she saw the weapons striking. She looked at the damage report with dismay as Tactical reported, “Minimal damage to their shielding, Captain.”
Unwilling to be deterred, Captain Montgomery ordered another run.
“The Calendra fighters are regrouping on the far side of the eighth planet,” Tactical reported.
“How many of them are left?” Jeryl asked.
“Five, sir,” Tactical reported stoically.
Ashley shook her head. There were twenty when they had jumped out of FTL.
Another explosion lit up the viewscreen and Ashley looked through her mountains of data when the Tactical officer called out, “Chuckchansi has been destroyed, sir.”
“Maintain firing solutions on the dreadnought,” Jeryl commanded. “We need to punch through their fucking shields!”
Chatter began to come through the open line between the ships.
“This is Yorktown,” Ashley heard the Captain of that ship call out. “We’re taking heavy fire from Sonali fighters and are pinned down. Retreating from our position towards Calendra II.”
“Maintain your position, Yorktown,” Jeryl instructed. “We have to hold the line. Here.”
There was no acknowledgment and Ashley wondered whether the ship would listen to Jeryl.
It turned out that they did.
“Hirohito, can you provide cover for Yorktown?” Jeryl called through the open channel.
There was only static through the line..
A moment later, the answer came from Tactical. “Hirohito is crippled sir. She’s listing in space. Her weapons and shielding are offline and life support is sporadic. She’s taken heavy damage.”
The minutes went by faster than Ashley could count. The flotilla went through various combinations to attempt to harass and pick off the Sonali ships.
Space lit up again as Yorktown had her hull breached in multiple areas from Sonali fire and exploded.
“Status of Sonali fleet?” Captain Montgomery called out from his chair.
After a brief minute, the report came back for everyone in CNC to hear.
“All Sonali ships seem to be functional, sir.”
There it was. So many lives extinguished from the human side. And not a single Sonali ship had fallen.
“Signal the Calendra II colony,” Jeryl said to Communications. “Tell them we need to pull back to the planet. Maybe we can use the orbital platforms to help us.”
“Sir, I’m not able to get a signal to Calendra II,” Communications called out. “The Sonali seem to be jamming our hails. The last thing I was able to glean was that widespread riots were breaking out across the colony as people were trying to board the limited ships available to take them off planet. There seems to be a breakdown in the colonial government.”
Jeryl sighed and Ashley could understand why.
With most of the fighters from the colony destroyed and nearly half the Terran flotilla destroyed or incapacitated, the end of this battle was drawing closer. Humanity was losing. As if the end of an era of space exploration were at hand. And an age of extinction were imminent.
“Take us around for another pass, Lieutenant,” Jeryl instructed from his chair. “Target anything you can and give them everything you got.”
As the ship began another pass into the maelstrom, two Sonali frigates and the dreadnought began to concentrate their fire on The Seeker.
“Evasive actions, Helm!” Jeryl yelled and the ship swerved hard to port, evading two crisscrossing particle beams from two different ships.
But a third one rocked the vessel and Ashley had to hold on to her station to keep from being thrown off.
“Status?” Jeryl yelled in one breath as he gave another order. “Maintain firing!”
“Hull breaches being sealed on Deck 5 and 6, shielding down to 50%,” Tactical reported back.
“Sir, another few hits like that and there won’t be a ship left,” Ashley said out loud to the Captain. Jeryl nodded. He knew that their death was at hand.
Chapter 3
Jeryl
“Fuck,” Jeryl muttered, his eyes trained on the viewscreen. He saw as the hulking Sonali dreadnought seemed to grow larger and larger, and his fingers grew white as he gripped tight the armrest of the Captain’s chair.
Was this the way he’d go? Crushed, alongside his whole crew, in the first real battle The Seeker faced? No, he wouldn’t allow that to happen. He didn’t care about his own life, but he’d be damned if his whole crew would suffer because he wasn’t up to the task. No. Whatever the cost, he’d ensure they’d all live to see another day.
“Sir, their weapons are locked on us. They’re powering them up again!” Someone shouted, and Jeryl gritted his teeth so hard his jaw felt as if it was about to shatter.
“Evasive maneuvers!” He shouted, getting up from his chair and looking straight at the viewscreen. The cannons in the dreadnought were lighting up at a steady rhythm, eager to unleash hellfire upon them.
“We don’t have enough power to—”
“Shut the shield down and redirect all power to our thrusters,” Jeryl commanded, his heart beating so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if it simply exploded. Shutting down The Seeker’s shield during a battle was pure insanity, but it was either that or suffer an immediate death. The ship would never survive another blast from the dreadnought.
“But, sir, that’s—”
“Do it!” Jeryl bellowed, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hands.
“Yes, sir!” He heard the Ensign reply. A warning took over the viewscreen, letting everyone in CNC know that shields were down.
“Take us out of here, Helm,” Jeryl commanded, and a second later he heard the thrumming of the thrusters as they received a surge of power. He gripped the handrail in front of him tight as The Seeker swerved starboard, doing it so fast the gravitation stabilizers barely had the time to compensate for the change of direction.
The moment The Seeker moved, a particle beam flew from the dreadnought and right into the space previously occupied by the Terran Union ship. If Jeryl had hesitated a simple second, the beam would’ve hit them right in the hull.
“We’re receiving a message straight from the Armada Command,” Mary Taylor, the comms officer, said. She looked back over her shoulder at Jeryl, an expression of fear and desperation coloring her eyes. Even though her skin was dark, Jeryl almost swore she had grown pale in the last few seconds.
“Go on.”
“They’re telling us that most ships have evacuated, and our orders are to retreat immediately,” Mary Taylor told him, and Jeryl raised his eyes and looked back into the viewscreen. He watched as the dreadnought followed after them, the two Sonali frigates still flanking it.
“Prepare to engage FTL drive,” Jeryl commanded, even though he knew he was turning his back to the millions of innocent men and women that inhabited the Caldera system. But what could he do? Condemn everyone aboard The Seeker to an early death just because he didn’t have the necessary grit for war? No. If a heavy conscience was the price to save his crew and continue the war effort, that was what he was going to do. “Tell the rest of the fleet we’re heading back. We’ll stay behind until everyone jumps into FTL, and we’ll follow after them.”
“Yes, sir,” Mary replied, her fingers flying over the screen in front of her as she talked into her headset. “All remaining ships are engaging FTL drives.”
“Good, let’s do the same,” Jeryl nodded.
“Engaging FTL drive!” One of the ensigns shouted as Jeryl sank back into his seat. The dreadnought was closing in on them, and he was starting to get worried. One lucky shot before they jumped into FTL and it’d be all over.
“We won’t make it out in time, Captain,” Ashley told him, her face so pale Jeryl could swear all blood had left her body. “In a few seconds they’ll have the drop on us, and then...”
“Captain, I’m receiving a transmission from the Hirohito,” Mary Taylor cut Ashley short, her voice brimming with panic. “Their FTL drive has been damaged beyond repair. They won’t be able to make the jump.”
Abandoning a colony was one thing. But abandoning someone in a fleet he was commanding? He knew it was what he needed to do, but somehow Jeryl just couldn’t say it out loud. He simply stared at the viewscreen for two long seconds, watching as every remaining ship from the fleet jumped into FTL and vanished. Only The Seeker and Hirohito remained.
“We need to go, and we need to go now,” Ashley whispered, leaning into him. Jeryl barely listened to her. He just watched as the dreadnought’s cannons powered up again, and for a moment he felt as if time had stopped. He felt the blood grow cold inside his veins, and both his heart and lungs seemed to stop working.
“Take us out of here, Helm,” Jeryl finally commanded.
“It’s too late, sir, they’ve locked on to our coordinates!” One of the youngest ensigns cried out, panicking. It was true—ten more seconds and The Seeker’s hull would be pierced by the destructive particle beams, and there was little Jeryl could do to stop that.
“What the…?” He heard Ashley mutter behind him, and he looked back at her over his shoulder. Her eyes were focused on the sensors in her workstation, where blinking dots signaled the position of every starship in the sector. The moment Ashley noticed that Jeryl was looking at her, she patched her workstation to the view screen. A fraction of a second later and the sensors were superimposed on the screen.
“Is that…?” Jeryl started, but Ashley didn’t even let him finish.
“The Hirohito,” she nodded, watching as a blinking dot moved fast, closing in on the dreadnought. It was doing it so fast that there was simply no way they’d be able to avoid a collision.
“They’re going to sacrifice themselves so that we can leave,” Ashley muttered, her tone a somber one. Not a second after and Jeryl saw Hirohito on the viewscreen, its large shape moving toward the dreadnought at blinding speed. It happened fast; one hull hit the other, metal twisting fast, and then both the dreadnought and Hirohito seemed to implode.
The dreadnought was about to fire when the collision happened, and its particle beam cannon blew up from the inside out, a blinding white light taking over the view screen.
“Take us out of here. Now!” Jeryl shouted, jumping up from his seat. The crew of the Hirohito had sacrificed themselves so that everyone aboard Jeryl’s ship could live one more day. He wouldn’t allow that sacrifice to go to waste.
“Yes, sir!”
And then they were out of the Calendra system.
* * *
“Dead. All of them,” Ashley said as Jeryl simply looked down at the glass of whiskey in his hands, the amber liquid swirling around the glass. Even though they still hadn’t received any official confirmation, there was no doubt in Jeryl’s mind about what happened once they left the Calendra system. The Sonali unleashed their weapons and laid waste to each settlement on the planet, killing every single soul that wasn’t lucky enough to evacuate.
“I know,” he simply whispered back at her, slowly raising his eyes and looking into hers.
“We should’ve done more…” She whispered, and Jeryl noticed that her hands were trembling. Her hair was disheveled, and her lips were a thin line. Even though he trusted Ashley more than anyone else in The Seeker, he knew she was having trouble dealing with the consequences of everything that had happened.
“There was nothing we could’ve done,” Jeryl told her, setting the whiskey aside and going up to his feet. He walked around his desk and walked toward Ashley, stopping just a few feet away from her. Without even thinking of what he was doing, he raised one hand and tucked a stray lock of hair over her ear. “It’ll be alright. We survived. We’ll keep on fighting.”
“Promise me, Jeryl,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. “Promise me it’ll be alright.”
“I promise you, Ash. I promise you,” he told her. He shouldn’t be doing it, promising her the world like this, but he simply couldn’t help himself. If Ashley wanted him to promise, he’d do it, and he’d crush the whole Sonali Combine because of this promise. He wasn’t sure of much nowadays, but he always took his promises seriously.
Ashley didn’t reply. She just nodded, and then managed a weak smile, her lips slowly curling and revealing a hint of her pearly white teeth. Jeryl noticed the slight dimples in her cheeks, and for a moment he forgot all about war and death. For a second, he shut the whole galaxy out.
It was only him and her, the two of them alone in his quarters.
Before he knew it, their lips were locked.
Their kiss was all consuming. Thoughts of the brutal war raging around them took a back seat. All that existed for Jeryl was Ashley. The curve of her ass. The swell of her breasts against him. The feel of her skin on his.
He wanted her.
And looking into her eyes, she wanted him.
“Make me yours,” Ashley told him as Jeryl kissed her again.
This time he was the one obeying her commands.
Chapter 4
Jeryl
When he woke up, Ashley’s naked body was against his, her head resting on his chest. He ran one hand through her hair and then pulled her close, breathing in deeply and allowing the memories of the night to flood his mind.
Just like when they were together in New Sydney, her body still felt like perfection. Closing his eyes, he ran his fingers down the side of her body, feeling her curves and the warmth of her skin.
“Ash,” he called her softly, and then he rested his lips against his forehead.
“I fell asleep,” she whispered, slowly rolling to her back as her eyes fluttered open.
“I know,” he replied, his lips shaping up into a lazy smile. It felt weird to be smiling. Just a few hours ago, millions of humans perished under the Sonali. An entire colony was glassed, and Jeryl’s fleet was beaten into a pulp. And still...just holding Ashley against him was enough to make him happy.
Maybe, Jeryl thought, it’s in the bleakest of times that you learn where to truly find joy.
“What time is it?” Ashley asked him, rubbing her eyes. She sat up on the bed, clutching the soft sheets against her naked breasts, and stifled a yawn.
“We’re not needed in the CNC for another hour,” he merely responded, secretly wishing for that hour to stretch endlessly. All he wanted was to stay here, in his bed, with Ashley by his side. In a sense, it was as if the horrors of war couldn’t get to him if he kept her in his arms. It was nothing more than an illusion, he knew, but he didn’t mind.
“Good,” she whispered, and then she leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. He draped one arm over her shoulders and pulled her close.
He had never seen himself as the kind of man who would fall in love. It was an almost alien concept to him, but now he saw himself rethinking his position. Whatever it was that he felt toward Ashley, it was more than just attraction. Sure, one look at her curves and he was ready to go, but it cut deeper than that. He wasn’t exactly sure what had changed between them, but he was certain something had definitely changed.
When the red glare of the emergency systems filled the CNC, when the whole ship seemed to rock, when death seemed to be knocking at their doors...all he could think about was Ashley. Sure, he thought of all the lives that depended on him, he thought of honor and duty, but Ashley was like the beacon that guided him home, a constant presence that guided every single one of his decisions.
“What are you thinking about, Jeryl?” She asked him, her voice soft and gentle. It reminded him of an easier time, a time where billions of lives didn’t hang in the balance. What he wouldn’t give to be back at The Oath in New Sidney, to be transported back in time and have all worry and torment banished from his mind.
“You,” he breathed out, that single word rolling out from between his lips before he could stop. “I’m thinkin’ of you, Ash,” he continued, turning his head around and looking straight into her eyes. She straightened up, her lips slightly parted, and blinked. He opened up into a smile and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. Leaning in, he closed his eyes and brushed his lips against hers.
She didn’t say a word. She simply returned his kiss, her lips eager to devour his. Soon enough their bodies became one, and passion and lust took over them. They possessed each other as if the world would end soon, their bodies and souls at each other’s mercy.
“I need you, Ash,” Jeryl breathed out, eyes locked on hers. “I need you by my side.”
“I’m right here,” she replied, a gentle moan falling from her parted lips as she said it. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”
He was still inside her when something took over him. It wasn’t passion, and it wasn’t lust. It was something much more powerful than all that, something over which he held no control.
It was love.
Jeryl lay silent for a long time.
“This isn’t how I pictured doing it,” he said to Ashley as she squinted her eyes. “Marry me,” he whispered against her lips, and then he held his breath as she looked back into his eyes. He never expected to say it like that, but the moment the words left his mouth he knew he was doing the right thing. He wanted Ashley by his side, and he’d hold her hand whatever happened.
“Yes,” she smiled, her voice so gentle that it made his heart ache. “I never expected something like this, but I’ve felt it since New Sydney. Yes, Jeryl, yes,” she repeated, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him against her, their bodies becoming one as they surrendered to the moment.
Through thick and thin, Jeryl thought to himself, I’ll always love you.
* * *
When Jeryl strolled into the CNC, all eyes were on him. Nodding back at his crew, he went straight to the captain’s chair and assumed his position, resting his elbows on the armrests.
“Go ahead,” he told Mary. She was the only one that kept standing, shifting her weight from one foot to the next.
“Sir,” she started, her voice fraught with tension. “We’ve received new orders from Armada Command. We’re needed at the Kalerian system. The Sonali have just attacked a farming colony, Kalera, and we need to protect one of the last convoys of refugees exiting the system. They’re two vessels and both of the transport ships have had their FTL drives damaged. We’re to escort them to the Nasser Station for repairs.”
“Understood,” he replied, leaning back against his seat. “What about the Sonali? Have they left the system?”
“No, sir. They’ve abandoned Kalera’s orbit, but they’ve been picking off all various targets in the system randomly. Most of the refugee ships have escaped, but this particular convoy is stranded. So far they’ve managed to avoid detection, but the Sonali will find them soon enough. They’re being pursued by a Sonali dreadnought.”
“Very well,” Jeryl nodded, ready to take charge. He wasn’t keen on taking his battered fleet against a Sonali dreadnought, but it wasn’t like he had a choice.
This was war, after all.
“Patch me to the rest of the fleet. We’ll coordinate and make the jump into the Kalerian system fast.”
“Sir,” Mary said, the nervousness in her voice growing with each passing second. “The orders we’ve received apply to The Seeker alone. The rest of the flotilla has been told to head straight to Davos Station.”
“That can’t be right,” Jeryl muttered, gripping the armrest tight. What was Command thinking? How was The Seeker alone supposed to stop a Sonali dreadnought?
“Command is expecting an assault on a nearby colony,” Mary replied, sounding as if she was trying to excuse the cadre of Admirals in charge of operations. It made sense; if Command was expecting a Sonali offensive, they couldn’t send a whole flotilla to protect two transport ships. Still, Jeryl didn’t like the idea of heading out by himself. But these were his orders.
“Very well,” he sighed, slowly going up to his feet. “Helm, plot course for the Kalerian system.”
“On it, Captain! One minute for us to enter FTL 5, and then 30 minutes for us to reach the Kalerian system. We already have the transport’s coordinates locked in.”
“This isn’t good,” Jeryl heard Ashley say from behind him. He turned around to look at her, and found himself smiling.
“It’ll be okay,” he told her, even though he wasn’t sure if anything would ever be okay. War had a way of destroying everything, and all he knew was that, with Ashley by his side, he was ready to take on the universe.
“It’ll be okay,” she repeated after him, her lips slowly curling into an hidden smile.
Half an hour later and they jumped out of FTL. The Seeker’s shadow projected onto the two large transport ships that floated in space as if they had been abandoned. In an attempt to deceive the Sonali and avoid their sensors, they had disabled all non-essential systems and allowed the ships to simply drift in space till help arrived.
“Sir, The Archimedes is trying to reach us,” Mary said over the loud chatter of the CNC personnel, referring to the biggest of the transports.
“Patch them through.”
A second later and a figure took over the viewscreen in the CNC. It was the figure of a man in his fifties, his grey hair disheveled, and the wrinkles in his forehead cutting so deep it almost seemed the man had been slashed by a butcher’s knife.
“My name is John Kaneta, and I’m the The Archimedes’ Captain,” he said fast, sounding as if he was out of breath. “Thank you for coming, Seeker. We’ve been stuck here for hours.”
“I’m Captain Jeryl Montgomery,” Jeryl introduced himself, more than ready to do without all the peasantries and get down to business. “How many aboard The Archimedes?”
“Ten thousand, sir. And five thousand more aboard The Red Sun,” Captain Kaneta replied, his speech short and clipped. “We’ve managed to escape Kalera while the battle was taking place, but our sensors picked up a Sonali dreadnought in pursuit. We got a few hits while in orbit, and our FTL drives are ruined.”
“What about sub light drive?” Jeryl asked, his eyes trained on the sensors panel; although that was the last thing he wanted, he expected to see a Sonali ship there anytime soon.
“The engines can take sub light drive,” Kaneta replies, and the lines on his forehead deepened some more. “We just didn’t want to risk it with the dreadnought on our trail. We’d be easy pickings without an escort.”
“Very well. We’ll escort you out of the Kalerian system, and take you toward the Nasser Station for repairs. Two days, at the most, and we’ll get there.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Kaneta said, a tone of relief on his voice. “We’d be lost without—”
“Sir!” One of the Ensigns shouted, going up to his feet so fast that Jeryl could almost swear he heard the young man’s knees pop. “There are seven Sonali ships heading toward us!”
“Seven? Are you sure?” Jeryl asked, and then cut off the communication channel to The Archimedes as he saw Kaneta’s face grow pale, panic taking over the man’s eyes.
“Positive, Sir. The dreadnought and six frigates as support,” the Ensign replied, looking at his Captain with a panicked expression. He knew, just as Jeryl did, that there was no way The Seeker could stand a chance against those numbers, especially after all the damage suffered during their last face-off with the Sonali.
Looking back over his shoulder at Ashley, Jeryl saw the tension in her face. The Sonali had them backed against the wall, and that had been done on purpose. The only reason the Sonali hadn’t laid waste to both The Archimedes and The Red Sun was because they were setting a trap. They knew that the Armada would send a military vessel to escort the civilian ships out of the system, and that was exactly what they wanted. Now The Seeker was at the mercy of a dreadnought and six frigates.
“How long till they reach us?”
“Two minutes, Sir.”
Battle stations, everyone, Jeryl wanted to say, but the words died in his throat. That was suicide, plain and simple.
“Patch me in to The Archimedes and The Red Sun, Mary,” Jeryl commanded, the palm of his hands growing sleek with sweat. The moment Mary opened the comms channel, Jeryl didn’t wait for the two civilian captains to speak.
“There’s one Sonali dreadnought and six frigates heading toward us,” he started, each word feeling like a sharp knife cutting through his throat. “We’ve sustained heavy damage during our last conflict, and we don’t have the necessary firepower to stand against the Sonali.”
“You’re abandoning us,” Kaneta whispered, his unblinking eyes brimming with disbelief. “We’ll die...all of us!” He continued, his voice trembling as he realized the only decision Jeryl could take.
“Try and establish contact with the Sonali, negotiate a surrender,” Jeryl said, trying to speak over The Archimedes’ captain.
“The Sonali don’t negotiate,” the man said through gritted teeth, his eyes focused on Jeryl. Now, more than disbelief, there was anger in his tone. “We’re dead, and you know it.”
“I’m sorry, Captain,” Jeryl whispered, and without another word he flicked a button on the panel on his chair, cutting off the comm channel.
“We can’t abandon them,” Ashley whispered behind him, and Jeryl lowered his head.
“We have to. If we don’t...it’s all over for us. Even if we had two more ships with us, and if we were operating in full, I doubt we could go against seven ships.”
Ashley’s only reply was silence. Even though she didn’t want to admit it, their only option was to run. Once more.
Is that the only thing we’re good at? Running for our lives? Jeryl thought to himself, and then he simply forced all these thoughts to a dark corner in his mind. He stood up and commanded Engineering to power up the FTL drive.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in a somber tone, looking at the two transport ships on the viewscreen. He was condemning more than fifteen thousand souls to their doom, and there was nothing he could do about it.
“It’ll be okay,” Ashley whispered, laying one hand on his shoulder and squeezing tight. “It’ll be okay.”
Nodding at Ashley, Jeryl then faced forward and sucked in a deep breath. “Take us out of here,” he commanded, and a few seconds later he felt the thrumming of the FTL drive deep in his bones.
That and the cries of fifteen thousand lives.
Chapter 5
Jeryl
“Coming out of FTL now, sir,” the young ensign at the helm called out to Jeryl.
The mood was one of despair in CNC. The Seeker, one of the most cutting edge frigates of the Terran Armada was a defeated ship. For over three hours they had been cruising through Terran space away from the memory of abandoning countless thousands of refugees to die and Jeryl felt the morale of the entire crew sink to nothingness.
Technically, there was nothing that could have been done. Armada War Policy had been clear upon transmission of the orders. If pursued by the Sonali, make best course away from the site. Above all, do not engage the enemy. They had given Jeryl license to be a coward, and he had taken it.
“We should be coming in range of the Truman Colony once we get into the system,” Ashley called out from her station.
“Signal them as soon as we’re in range,” Jeryl replied. “Let them know that we need repairs and transmit the Armada codes so they know who to bill.”
Truman Colony was a sleepy backwater colony at the edge of the Edoris Sector. Until recently, it had largely been forgotten by the Terran Armada, and was only on the star charts of a few corporations that carried out mining operations on the planet.
But less than two months ago, the colony had been completely transformed. The population had exploded from a sleepy 30,000 people to one of at least 250,000 residents who worked in never ending shifts to provide assistance to Armada ships that came in for repairs. Several years ago, the colony had put up a working space dock in the hopes of serving as a transport hub for the region. It was 50 light years from Edoris Station and the hope was that it would one day serve as an important trade depot. Similar to many of the ways that New Washington had developed.
That was when this sector of space was the frontier, Jeryl thought grimly to himself. Now the frontier had turned into a war zone, with a bloodthirsty enemy on the other side.
Jeryl had ordered the ship to make its way to Truman Colony. This was somewhat of an impromptu stop. A part of him didn’t feel comfortable until they were at least decently repaired and battle ready. Afterwards, they would head to Davos II and get assigned to the next hot spot.
Gotta keep those engines running so we can run away faster than everyone. Jeryl thought to himself. That’s what we’re good for anyways.
“I’m hailing the Truman Colony but not getting any response yet,” Ashley called out. Jeryl could tell that she was trying her best to keep busy. To keep her mind off of the events that had occurred the last few days.
It was a dangerous way to operate a starship during a time of war when the First Officer was running communications in an effort to keep her mind occupied from thinking.
“Keep trying,” Jeryl instructed. “Helm, take us to the planet. Maximum sub-light.”
Jeryl thought he could feel the ship moving faster through the system as he saw the various phenomena of the system pass him by.
“This is odd, Captain,” Jeryl heard from Tactical. “There is almost zero slipstream activity from Truman Colony. Nothing from the space dock.”
Jeryl had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach upon hearing that.
It could only mean one thing.
Then, the planet began to appear on the viewscreen. His worst fears were confirmed.
Captain Jeryl Montgomery got up from his chair to view the carnage that was displayed out in front of him.
The Truman Colony space dock, built with great ambitions, was destroyed. A broken, burning hulk of twisted metal and polymers. Drifting in a deteriorating orbit around the planet.
“Oh my god,” Jeryl heard Ashley say behind him as he focused on the planet. The atmosphere looked burnt as multiple fires blanketed the southern continent where the main settlements were.
“That’s why they haven’t been responding,” Jeryl muttered. “They’d been attacked.”
It saddened and frightened Jeryl to see the Sonali war machine strike so far into the sector. What would be next?
Edoris Station? Davos II? New Washington? New Sydney?
Earth?
How far would this war go? How bad had it truly gotten that Truman Colony was wiped off the galactic map and no one in Armada Command even knew about it at this point? Where were the rescue vessels? Where was the counterattack? There was almost zero communication to The Seeker at this point from Armada Command after the disastrous rescue attempt earlier.
How far had the Sonali struck?
Was this the end of humanity?
“Commander,” Jeryl croaked to Ashley. “Scan for survivors on the planet and on the station.”
Jeryl heard Ashley moving to her console. He couldn’t help himself as he gave the final order.
“And prepare a shuttle,” he said. “We’re going down.”
* * *
Jeryl looked at the twisted and charred landscape of what had been Truman Colony. While it was never a natural paradise like New Sydney or Elysium as it was a mining colony after all, any natural beauty that the place had was ruined. The ground was charred. The trees were burning. The water was acidified, if not vaporized.
A security detail came walking back from the charred remains of what used to be a town.
Jeryl and two security teams had taken a shuttle and landed right outside one of the largest settlements.
“No survivors that we could scan or see, sir,” the team leader said and Jeryl shook his head in dismay.
This war had gone on far too long. It had cost too many lives. Even if Truman Colony was a small and isolated outpost, the fact that they had been casually destroyed as such was jarring.
Jeryl bent to his knees and gathered a handful of dirt. What had once sustained life on this planet was now dust.
There was a line that had been crossed somehow. And it was time to strike back.
“This must end,” he said to his team. “We can’t go on like this.”
There was silence as everyone watched their captain.
“This will end. I swear it.”
After a while, Jeryl got up. The team walked to the shuttle and took off.
But the people who left the planet were now vastly different from the people who had landed.
Including the Captain.
Chapter 6
Thirty.
It was a number that stood for the number of months that the conflict, what was being called The Earth-Sonali War had gone on for. Countless worlds and colonies had been razed to the ground and glassed from the sky. Billions of people were killed. Many tens of billions more were displaced. All by a faceless, alien enemy that lacked any sort of compassion.
Two.
That was the number of Sonali dreadnoughts engaged by a fleet of Terran Armada frigates on the outskirts of the Goncalo Cluster towards the first year of the war. The Goncalo Cluster held two systems that held a total of three billion Terran Union citizens and represented the farthest into the Inner Core worlds of the Terran Union that isolated Sonali attacks had penetrated.
The Terran Armada, reeling from a year of defeat, realized that this was more than a far off war on the border at this point. By taking control of the Goncalo Cluster, the Sonali would be able to mount attacks against several Inner Core worlds and be within position to start to threaten Earth.
What added insult to injury for the Terran Union was the fact that the Sonali Combine had sent just two ships. Granted, these were massive super ships, double the size of a Sonali dreadnought. The Sonali ships, The Malai and the Gre’nai took the entire fleet of fifteen frigates and held them at bay for hours. Ten frigates were destroyed before the Sonali ships were dispatched but the losses negated the victory that the Terran Union claimed at the conclusion of the campaign. But for the first time, every single person in the Terran Armada, from the Commander-In-Chief to the newest class of Ensigns realized that this war was no longer about The Mariner.
It was now about the future of the human race.
Eight.
The number of conspirators among the senior staff of the TUS Terror who plotted mutiny and to overthrow the Captain of the ship. The Terror had engaged the Sonali at Azukene colony among other vessels. The Sonali were threatening the colony and preparing to eradicate the settlements on the main continent when the Terran fleet intercepted them.
The Sonali fleet, following prior engagements were able to neutralize the Terran ships with ease. To prevent the loss of the colony, and to slow the Sonali advance, the captain of Terror ordered for her ship to ram the Sonali dreadnought, in about the only tactic that the Terran Union had come up with that was able to destroy the massive Sonali vessels.
However in this instance, the crew, already demoralized and defeated from multiple engagements that resulted in retreats and falling back, were not prepared to sacrifice their lives when they felt that it would have no bearing on whether the colonists lived or died.
They rose up in an unanimous mutiny against the captain and dispatched their ships logs via slipstream to mimic the destruction of the ship. The Sonali went on to destroy all life on the Azukene Colony.
Thirty-two.
The percentage decrease in food that was sent to colonies that were not self-sufficient. While farming colonies continued to eat well, major urban centers that imported their food felt the pain. At heart of the problem was that there were a smaller number of worlds producing the food for people to eat. As food supply decreased, the energy requirements and thus the credit payment prices for matter sequensor-sourced food became higher. For the first time in over two hundred years, pockets of humanity across the Terran Union went hungry or starved.
Sixteen million.
The number of people who voluntarily joined the Terran Armada during the first year of the Earth-Sonali War. Most went into the ranks of enlisted while a small fraction joined the Academy. Many more deferred or came back from their retirement as well. Patriotic fervor swept through the Terran Union at first. But as time went on, patriotic fervor gave way to another emotion.
Fear.
Fear for the future of humanity. Fear for what the homefront was turning into. Fear for the future. In popular culture and in the collective fabric of the Terran Union, the struggle with the Sonali went from a disastrous first contact war to a battle for survival.
Fifty-five.
The number of admirals who had raced to the Mars Research and Development Laboratories operated by the Terran Armada once the TUS Shrike had brought back a damaged, but otherwise intact, Sonali frigate into the Terran Union. The recovery of the enemy ship gave the first real hope that the Terran Union would survive the destructive conflict that was engulfing much of its border.
Ten.
The number of ships that engaged the Sonali in the first month of the second year of the war. Unlike prior encounters with Sonali fleets, the Terran Armada was now equipped with prototype weapons that gave them an edge based on rapid reverse engineering of the Sonali systems from The Shrike’s find. The losses, while still significant, allowed the Terran Armada to drive away the Sonali fleet in the orbit of Gallica Prime, saving the 120,000 residents below.
For the first time during the course of the struggle, the Terran Union breathed a sigh of relief. The nonstop research and development as well as re-engineering of Sonali technology had finally began to bear fruit—and even if the Armada was not ready to carry the attack to the enemy, they were starting to get things aligned in order to repel them.
Seventeen.
The number of months following the start of the war that the Terran Armada launched its first real counteroffensive against the Sonali Combine. The goal was simple. Burst into Sonali space, engage the enemy as little as possible, destroy a major trade hub near the border of the Sonali Combine and Terran Union, and then retreat back to Terran space before reinforcements arrived.
The nature of the mission was to strike hard and fast and use the element of surprise. Terran Armada strategists, sitting in Vancouver, knew that no matter how many retrofits their ships went through, they were not ready for a full on slugfest with the enemy.
The attack was carried out with utmost secrecy and was successful. It resulted in the destruction of ten Sonali ships, a Sonali space station...and a civilian colony with approximately 300,000 lives.
Six.
The number of years that Armada Intelligence believed that the Terran Union would be able to continue the war with the Sonali Combine. The analysts in charge of making this prediction took into account every variable that they believed was realistic.
They accounted for the fact that Sonali technology would be reverse engineered and that the Terran Armada would begin to win victories against the Sonali. They accounted for the fact that both sides would evolve their warfare. They even accounted for the unconventional tactics that both sides would one day use—tactics that by the beginning of the third year of the war were beginning to be tested—from Sonali death drops to Terran use of FTL mines.
Armada Intelligence extrapolated a scenario where the combined cost of the war would lead to the gradual erosion of the Terran Armada to maintain law and order across the vast expanse of its space. As resources began to be drained, outside involvement by one of the newly discovered alien races or by the Outer Colonies (also known as the Human Confederation) would become more likely.
The population, long used to a constitutional republic that was free of any sort of state-sanctioned rationing would begin to become restive. And slow loss of oversight among the far flung colonies would eventually lead to another schism, whereby colonies would attempt to preserve their existence based on their self-interest.
Armada Intelligence believed that after six years of war, at the current levels, the Terran Union would become ungovernable. This lack of coordination on the homefront would lead to a situation where less materiel would be collected and allocated to fighting the alien threat. This would lead to further losses, and defeat would spur colonies to seriously consider going their own way. Major urban centers such as New Washington would find a rationale for negotiating a separate peace with the Sonali Combine. And this would lead to the gradual but eventual dissolution of the authority of the Terran Union.
Which would ultimately lead to defeat.
The study from Armada Intelligence did not suggest any recommendations. But it set off a flurry of activity in the highest levels of the Terran Union. The Terran Armada’s pleas for resources were given top priority. The rebuilding of Earth was placed on hold. Constitutional freedoms were curtailed. Corporations were given broad autonomy and endless streams of revenue to contribute in the war effort.
Within a month, it resulted in a shift in thinking. And a new offensive began to take shape among the Admiralty.
Chapter 7
Jeryl
“Two minutes ‘til we reach orbit, Captain.”
Jeryl nodded at his helmsman and then pressed a button on his chair’s panel to talk to the entire ship. “All hands, this is Captain Montgomery. We’ll reach Oriane’s orbit in two minutes. Keep sharp—the Sonali will be waiting.”
With that, he cut off the comm’s channel and leaned back against his seat, his eyes trained on the viewscreen.
Even though he couldn’t help the deep seated anxiety that always took over him whenever they geared up for battle, this time he actually felt confident.
After three years of fighting the Sonali all over the galaxy, the enemy was no longer a mysterious force they had no idea how to deal with. They had shed tears and blood over the years, but the Terran Armada had managed to fight back. Through the use of sheer force and covert operations, they slowly lifted the veil that kept Sonali operations from view, and now they knew how to fight...and win.
More than that, The Seeker had been retrofitted into the perfect war machine. Combining the best engineering from both the Sonali and human side, billions of credits had been poured into upgrading the Terran Armada fleet. Despite The Seeker’s track record which includes a staggering amount of losses and retreats throughout the first years of the war, Jeryl’s command abilities had managed to convince the higher-ups in the Armada to make one of the first investments in The Seeker.
Jeryl smiled to himself as he felt the FTL drive slowly power down. In a few seconds, The Seeker would enter Oriane’s orbit, a small research colony on the Sonali-Terran border, and the Sonali would have to contend with a whole battalion hell-bent on grinding them into dust.
Oriane wasn’t exactly a high-priority target—it was nothing more than a colony used by the Sonali to conduct military research. But the Armada wanted to send a message. And so The Seeker had been tasked with destroying the fleet protecting the colony and glassing the whole planet.
Fear us, Jeryl thought to himself, fully knowing that the Sonali whispered his ship’s name with dread.
Sure, The Seeker suffered countless losses in the first few years of the war, but Jeryl made sure the Sonali paid for every shot fired against the hull of his ship. He couldn’t even remember how many dreadnoughts and frigates he had managed to destroy during the past few months—they were too many to count. And the colonies too. Under Jeryl’s command, more than a dozen colonies had been turned into an inhabitable hell hole. How many Sonali lives would Jeryl have to respond for in the afterlife? He didn’t know the answer for that, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he cared.
War was hell, and Jeryl had embraced his role as the Devil.
“Five seconds, Captain!” The helmsman announced, and Jeryl noticed his anxious tone. The red glare of the emergency lights was already covering every wall in the CNC, and even the viewscreen colors were more vibrant and urgent. Every officer around Jeryl looked tense and nervous, but they all seemed more ready to do their job. Years of war had carved them into ruthless operators, and Jeryl knew he could trust every single one of them to carry out his orders.
“Three, two, one!” The moment the helmsman’s countdown was finished, The Seeker rocked slightly and then the Sonali colony filled the viewscreen.
It was a small planet, roughly twice as big as Earth’s moon, and its atmosphere had it painted in pinkish tones. According to The Seeker’s sensors, eight dreadnoughts and 46 frigates orbited the colony. That was enough to protect it from an Armada small incursion, but definitely not a match for the upgraded The Seeker and its accompanying battalion of twelve warships and 50 terran frigates.
“They’re assuming battle formation,” one of the Ensigns shouted, and Jeryl nodded quietly. He didn’t even need to open a comm channel to the rest of his battalion—everyone had already been briefed about what they needed to do. It was now only a matter of going through the motions.
“Lock weapons on the closest dreadnought,” Jeryl commanded as The Seeker advanced through space steadily, closing the distance between her and the Sonali fleet.
“Weapons locked and ready,” Ashley announced as she exchanged a quick confident glance with Jeryl. Even though they tried their best to keep their relationship a secret, it was getting harder and harder to keep it on the down low. In fact, Jeryl was sure that everyone in CNC knew they were an item—after all, the glances they traded all the time were a dead giveaway that there was something going on between the two of them.
And so what? Jeryl thought to himself. We’ll be married soon enough, anyway.
“As soon as they’re within range, fire away,” he commanded, trying to keep his mind on the issue at hand. It would do him no good to keep Ashley’s smile floating behind his eyes while he should be focused on bringing down the Sonali fleet orbiting Oriane.
A few seconds later and The Seeker’s particle beams cut through the empty space and found their resting place on the dreadnought’s hull. The hulking spaceship didn’t even move as The Seeker fired. Sonali intelligence probably wasn’t aware of The Seeker’s upgrade, and as such they weren’t ready for its superior firepower. The dreadnought’s shield lit up the space around it for a brief moment, but it didn’t help much. Jeryl could already see a gaping hole in the Sonali spaceship, and he saw as it started falling back in formation.
“Fire again,” he commanded, deciding not to allow the dreadnought to escape. Three Sonali frigates were already flanking the dreadnought, but one more clean hit and it’d go down.
“Their weapons are locked on us, Sir!” One of the Ensigns announced nervously, but Jeryl simply kept quiet.
A moment later and The Seeker was already firing away, three particle beams hitting the dreadnought on the side. The frigates that were flanking it floated away from it, and Jeryl took that as a good sign. They had probably hit their FTL engines bad, which meant that the dreadnought was nothing more than a bomb about to go off.
“They’ve lost their weapons—” Ashley started to say, but her sentence was cut short as raging blue flames devoured the dreadnought from the inside out, its hull collapsing like a sandcastle.
“One down,” Jeryl muttered to himself, and then he looked down at the sensor screen. Sonali fighters were already trying to swarm the Terran frigates, but the new evasive maneuvers that had been developed by the Terran Armada’s best strategists were already paying off. Instead of inflicting any damage, the Sonali fighters were being picked off one by one, swatted down like annoying flies. Jeryl’s battalion had already downed 12 Sonali frigates, and that without suffering any losses.
The next two minutes went by in the blink of an eye.
The Seeker fell back into formation and, assuming a wall formation with the other 12 warships, they kept advancing on the Sonali and firing away until Oriane’s orbit was cluttered with debris. Dead ships floated down onto the planet, their lights out, and Jeryl couldn’t hide his satisfaction. After being beaten down for so long, it felt good to be able to hand out some punishment in return.
“They’re engaging their FTL drives,” Ashley whispered. “We’ve won the day.” Her eyes were focused on Jeryl’s monitor as, one by one, the remaining Sonali ships pulled back from combat and jumped into FTL, their enormous shapes vanishing in the blink of an eye.
“What’s our status?” Jeryl asked her.
“Aside from minor damages, all warships remain ready and operational. The Seeker has received no hits. We only lost two frigates to the Sonali,” she announced, reading the information on her own monitor.
“Very well,” Jeryl barked, going up to his feet. He was feeling happy about the victory, but he didn’t want to sound to gleeful—after all, they’d lost two frigate crews to the Sonali. Even if they had scored a victory and inflicted major losses, losing two frigates meant that a lot of families across the galaxy would be receiving folded Terran flags.
“Send orders for the rest of the fleet to align,” he continued, now turning to the comms officer, Mary Taylor. “We’re going to end the job and then get the hell out of here before they send reinforcements.”
“Already done, Sir,” Mary replied briskly.
“Sir, there’s something you should know,” one of the Ensigns in charge of both the ship’s sensors and scanners said, jumping up from his seat and turning to face Jeryl.
“Go ahead.”
“Our scanners have detected more signs of life than Armada Intelligence led us to believe,” the young man replied nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he stared at Jeryl.
“Go on.”
“We were to believe that the research facilities on Oriane housed no more than 50 thousand Sonali, but our scanners indicate that at least two million Sonali inhabit this colony.”
“Two million?” Jeryl whispered to himself. Maybe Oriane wasn’t that unimportant of a target after all. If a research colony had that many Sonali living in there, it meant they were probably pouring a lot of their resources into it.
“The battalion is aligned and ready to proceed, Sir,” Mary announced. Jeryl looked at the viewscreen in silence, watching as dozen of hulls aligned in Oriane’s orbit, The Seeker right in the middle of the line.
“Very well. Proceed,” he commanded, and then sank down into his seat as the plasma cannons started firing down onto Oriane, the beams lighting up the cold space as they slashed down the atmosphere and hit the stony ground thousands of kilometers below The Seeker.
Two million dead in just a few seconds.
No more running, he mused to himself as he saw the planet burning under him.
Chapter 8
Jeryl
“One more for the road,” Jeryl whispered as he poured another shot of whiskey. He wasn’t the kind of man to drink during service, but he figured he needed a drink after cutting short the lives of more than two million Sonali.
Throwing his head back, he downed the whiskey fast and then slammed the glass on top of his Captain’s desk, the amber liquid burning down his throat. He looked at the bottle for a few seconds—just a cheap import from an hidden corner in Terran territory—and then closed his eyes.
He tried to peer down into the well of his own heart, but the darkness inside it stopped him from doing it. After glassing a whole planet, he knew he should be feeling...something. But all he felt was a corrosive numbness that stripped every emotion away from him. Two million, two billion...it was all the same to him. He’d follow his orders, kill and destroy everything in his path, and see this war through.
“Captain!” He heard a familiar voice blare through his comms. “We need you here”
“On my way,” he responded automatically, and then jumped up to his feet. He pushed the empty glass to a far side of his desk and then put the cork back on the bottle. Straightening his uniform jacket, he then marched out of his private office.
“What’s the situation?” He asked Ashley as he strolled into the CNC, his eyes going straight for the blinking light on the viewscreen. There was an unidentified ship travelling at sub light drive speed trying to escape Oriane’s orbit. “Sonali?”
“Yes,” Ashley responded, tapping a few buttons on her console. “No weapons systems, though. It looks like it’s a civilian transport. It was probably already in orbit when we glassed the colony, and it kept itself hidden until now.”
“We’ve got survivors, then,” Jeryl muttered, remembering his orders: No Sonali shall leave the planet. We can’t risk whatever information or technology they’ve been developing at the Oriane colony to find its way into Sonali command.
“We do. I don’t think they’re aware we’ve detected them. It looks like they’re trying to go for one of the moons. If they have any hidden emergency base there, they’ll probably try and wait us out there.”
“Let’s make ourselves known then,” he said, raising his voice so that everyone in CNC could hear him. Taking his place in the Captain’s chair, he looked at the sensors in his private console and delineated a plan. “Tell Burning Fist and Black Flag to intercept the Sonali vessel,” he told Mary Taylor, and the comms officer got to work immediately, repeating Jeryl’s orders into her headset.
Thirty seconds later and the two warships broke formation, engaged their sub light drive engines and set on an interception course with the Sonali transport.
“They’ve seen us,” Mary Taylor said. “And now they’re hailing us.”
“They want to talk? That’s a first,” Jeryl replied suppressing down a laugh. The Sonali were known for their constant refusal of any communication attempts, and it was almost ironic that some beaten down ship in the middle of nowhere would be the one to try and establish a dialogue. “Patch them in.”
“Yes, sir,” Mary responded, tapping a button on her console; images of the Sonali transport in the distance were replaced by the live feed of a Sonali wearing a civilian Sonali uniform. Jeryl was more used to their military garb, but he had dealt with enough civilian Sonali to recognize their specific uniforms.
“Greetings, Captain Jeryl Montgomery,” the Sonali said, The Seeker’s AI translating his speech in real time. “I am Legate Gorsak, and I am the one commanding The Urd,” he continued, referring to his transport ship.
Even this guy knows my name, Jeryl thought. It wasn’t that much of a surprise, if he was being honest. The Seeker had a reputation among the Sonali, and that reputation was impressive enough for the Sonali to know the name of its captain.
“How many aboard your vessel?” Jeryl asked the Sonali legate, not bothering with niceties.
“120 of us,” Gorsak replied in a heartbeat. “We’re nothing but maintenance engineers. We were doing routine maintenance on an orbiting station when you attacked the planet, and that’s why we survived. All we want is for you to let us through. We just want to survive.”
“Don’t we all?” Jeryl asked, a hard edge to his words. The Sonali could be telling the truth, but somehow Jeryl didn’t buy it; he had seen enough civilian Sonali ships, and the one trying to outrun the warships Jeryl had sent in pursuit was too sleek and fast for a ship doing transport runs between the planet and the stations orbiting it.
“Please, just let us through,” the Sonali legate insisted.
“Burning Fist, Black Flag,” Jeryl started, opening a separate comm channel. As he spoke, his eyes never left Gorsak’s. “Do you have the Sonali vessel within range?”
“Yes, sir,” the two captains of the Terran warships answered in unison. “I can disable their engines, and we can capture them easily,” the Black Flag’s captain answered. All the while, Jeryl kept his comm channel with Gorsak open, making sure that the Sonali legate was listening to each and every word.
“It’s pretty straightforward, Legate Gorsak,” Jeryl said, turning his attention to the Sonali, “Surrender and prepare yourself to be boarded.”
“All we want is to leave the system!” Gorsak protested, and Jeryl noticed how nervous he was. Even though the Sonali weren’t as expressive as humans, he felt confident enough in his appraisal of their emotions—Legate Gorsak was hiding something.
“And that won’t happen,” Jeryl continued. He was about to tell Gorsak to surrender again when the Sonali cut down the comm channel and the viewscreen went dark.
“Do I have clearance to engage?” The Black Flag’s captain asked Jeryl. “We can have them captured in thirty minutes. All we need to do is—”
“No,” Jeryl said, cutting the other man short. “Light them up.”
“Sir?”
“Their sub light drive engines are revving up. They’re going to try and escape. I don’t want to risk it. Destroy them,” Jeryl commanded, his voice terse. His words didn’t even sound true to his own ears—he knew they could capture the Sonali transport easily, so why was he so quick in his decision to destroy them?
Because that’s what I've become, he thought to himself. I’ve become a cold-blooded killer.
“You have your orders,” Jeryl said for the last time, and then he shut down his comms. Sitting on the captain’s chair, he just stared at the viewscreen and watched as the two Terran warships closed the distance between them and the Sonali vessel. As soon as the transport ship was in range, both the Black Flag and the Burning Fist fired; their particle beams lit up the darkness of space for a moment, and Jeryl held his breath as he watched the Sonali ship be cut in half, huge chunks of twisted metal separating from the ship’s hull and floating aimlessly.
“We could’ve captured them,” Ashley said. She was standing by his side, her vacant gaze locked on the viewscreen.
“We could’ve,” Jeryl replied, “but we didn’t.”
Chapter 9
Jeryl
“Captain Handsome,” Ashley laughed, one hand on Jeryl’s shoulder as she looked at him with an appraising look. He was wearing his white ceremonial uniform, cap and all, and he was feeling as comfortable in it as a mouse trapped in a bucket full of boiling water.
“I hate it,” he sighed as he looked in the mirror once more. Although he loved the Armada and the life in the military, he never enjoyed the ceremonial aspect of it. More often than not, he saw it for what it really was—sugarcoating the brutality of war.
“Don’t look so gloomy. They’re all gathered here because of you,” Ashley replied, straightening his tie and patting his chest. “Besides, it feels good to be back on Earth, even if just for a couple of hours.”
That much was true; Jeryl didn’t remember the last time he had set foot on Earth. He just wished it was under a different set of circumstances. It couldn’t be helped, though—after what happened in Oriane’s orbit where he downed a Sonali transport ship, the Armada had awarded him a commendation. Despite Jeryl’s protests, they had insisted on a ceremony—it’d help morale, the politicians insisted.
Jeryl didn’t give a shit about morale. He had a war to worry about, and he doubted medals and parades would help him do that. Especially when they were being awarded based on nothing but pure luck.
Back then, Jeryl didn’t know it, but aboard the Sonali transport ship that his battalion destroyed was one of the most important Legates in the Sonali war effort. Apparently, he was there to follow-up on the latest weapons research being conducted at the colony; he was leaving right when The Seeker’s battalion entered orbit, and luck wasn’t on his side. The moment The Seeker’s sensors picked up the transport, he was done.
Still, it had been nothing more than a blind stroke of luck. Jeryl had no idea that there was someone important aboard the Sonali ship—at the time, all he wanted was to follow his orders and make sure no survivors left the colony alive. Even if that meant destroying an apparently harmless transport ship and killing everyone aboard.
“Just get it done, Jeryl,” Ashley told him, going on her tiptoes and brushing her velvety lips against his. He rested his hands on her hips and pulled her close, the warmth of her body stirring something deep inside him. If he could, he’d spend the time he had allotted for the ceremony doing something way more interesting than being paraded around like a horse.
“You’re right, Ash,” he whispered against her lips. “Let’s get this over with.” With that, he strolled out of his private quarters and made his way through the maze of corridors inside The Seeker. They had landed in one of the largest landing pads on Earth, one so large it could house a small town, and the whole place had been transformed into a ceremonial arena.
There were enough seats for a crowd of about two thousand people, and the VIP ones were reserved for the Terran Union President, a select cadre of Senators, and whoever Admirals were on Earth at the time.
The moment Jeryl emerged outside, the whole crowd jumped up to their feet and started clapping their hands, the sound of it thunderous and overwhelming. With his head held high, Jeryl marched out of The Seeker, his senior officers trailing behind him, and made his way toward the stage that faced the crowd. As he walked up the steps, he realized that his heartbeat was picking up the pace; suddenly, all he wished was to be sitting in his captain’s chair in The Seeker somewhere deep in some uncharted area of space.
That was where he belonged, not here.
Just follow the damn protocol, Jeryl thought. This whole bullshit will be over soon.
Obeying his own thoughts, he quickly climbed up the steps that led into the stage and took his position behind the raised stand. He took in the hundreds of people sitting in front of him, most of them much more important than a simple captain, and then he cleared his throat. He took a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and started reading through it, the words coming out of his mouth wooden and stilted.
No one cared.
Jeryl looked the part of the war hero—square jaw, confident stare—and that was all that mattered. He knew that some of the Senators were eager to show the populace how the war seemed to be turning, and they felt that parading Jeryl around and pinning a medal on his chest was the perfect way to go about something like that.
“Congratulations, Captain Montgomery,” the President said as soon as Jeryl finished his dry speech. He stood there, on top the platform from which he had delivered his speech, and waited patiently as the Union President pinned a medal on his chest.
“Thank you for everything you’ve been doing out there, Captain,” the President said, addressing Jeryl directly. “We all sleep better at night knowing you’re out there.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jeryl replied. He knew the President was just doing his old politician routine. For politicians, words and appearances were their pillars...but Jeryl knew better. Out there in space, only one thing mattered—guts.
“You know we’re screwed, right?” Admiral Flynn whispered into Jeryl’s ear the moment he assumed his position next to The Seeker’s captain, right before the President as the man addressed the crowd.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Jeryl asked between gritted teeth, even though he already had an idea what the answer would be.
“They’re not going to sit still after this,” Admiral Flynn continued. “The Legate you killed had a lot of political clout, and now that he’s dead...well, there are a lot of Sonali asking for swift revenge.”
“Why don’t they come and take it then?” As he said it, Jeryl dug his fingernails into the palm of his hands. Lately, he was always itching for a fight—all he wanted was to keep running through Sonali fleets like a hot knife through butter.
“Do you think they’ll just come after you, Jeryl? They will, sure...but they’ll also take their frustration out on all the defenseless colonies we have spread around the galaxy. A lot of lives will be lost because you made a call. Not that I’m judging you, son,” the Admiral added quickly. “I would have done the same.”
“Will it ever stop?” Jeryl asked, his lips barely moving.
“Unless there’s a miracle, it’s going to be either us or them,” the white-haired admiral responded, his tone soft but firm at the same time.
This time, Jeryl just nodded. Flynn was right—it was either them or the Sonali, and Jeryl would do everything in his power to make sure that humanity had a shot at victory.
Chapter 10
Jeryl
“Want to buy me a drink?” a voice called out from behind Jeryl and he looked over.
“Admiral Flynn!” Jeryl stood up at attention. Howard Flynn smiled with genuine affection.
“No more need for formalities, son,” he said as he sidled up to the barstool on Starbase Alpha, overlooking Earth. “No one gives a rat’s ass right now who’s a fucking Admiral and who the Captain is. Besides, you’re the hero of the hour.”
The bartender came by with a glass of scotch. It was obvious Howard Flynn was a regular.
“Hero of the hour,” Jeryl said, taking a sip of his beer as he gave a sardonic chuckle at the title. “The things we give out medals for these days.”
Jeryl and Howard were sitting at the bar in the Officers Lounge of Starbase Alpha. The lounge was lavishly appointed, with deep leather chairs and recessed tables for solitude or quiet conversations. A series of screens lined one corner of the lounge with updates from around the Terran Union. The outer wall, towards the hull plating was transparent aluminum, and thus offered floor to ceiling windows overlooking the planet Earth.
She was currently orbiting, with Asia and Australia currently on view.
Admiral Flynn caught Jeryl looking through the windows towards the planet, as it glistened like a jewel.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” he asked Jeryl.
“You know, sir,” Jeryl said after a moment, lost in thought. “It never gets old with that view.”
“It never does, son,” Flynn agreed. “It never gets tiresome to look at. And when shit really hits the fan, it really puts everything in perspective.”
Jeryl looked over to the older man as Flynn continued.
“All of that bullshit—the commendations, the bureaucracy, the politics—all of that flies out the window when you see your home,” Flynn said. “The birthplace of humanity. The cradle from where we came from.”
“We’ve moved on to hundreds of different worlds,” Jeryl said as he nodded in agreement. “But this one is special.”
“It is indeed,” Flynn said quietly. “We already tried to destroy it a few times in our misguided past. But we’ve spent the better part of the last two centuries trying to do right by her. And now we’re trying to save her from people who want to take her away from us.”
The mood became somber.
“We won’t let them, sir,” Jeryl said. “I was feeling pretty exhausted, but I swear that sitting here, seeing what we’re fighting for, it makes it all worthwhile.”
Admiral Flynn chuckled.
“Let’s hope the Sonali sees your resolve and decide to put down their weapons,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “God knows they’ve gotten their asses handed to them by you recently.”
Jeryl let himself laugh. The last few months had been rough. He had difficulty looking at himself in the mirror recently. But he knew now that what he was doing was for a greater good.
Or at least that’s what he said to himself so he could look at himself as he shaved in the mornings.
As the two men turned to their drinks, they noticed a group of people gathered at one of the video screens on the far side of the room. Suddenly, the room was filled with hushed talk and nervousness.
Jeryl felt a prickle on the back of his neck and he looked over to the bartender.
“Can you pipe the signal over here?” he asked but the bartender, his face white, was already patching the feed into all the screens.
The levity of the moment vanished in an instant.
Jeryl saw Davos II station. Surrounding it were dozens of Sonali craft. Large and small, and they were firing at the station.
“Armada Command, we’re patching you in through a flybot to get these images out on a broad-based slipstream, requesting reinforcements immediately,” the voice on the other end of the feed pleaded. Jeryl didn’t know who it was. Maybe a technician on the night shift. Maybe the ranking admiral.
God, we were supposed to be there right now, Jeryl thought to himself as he sat, transfixed in horror.
“Armada Command, we count approximately 49 Sonali ships, with 5 dreadnoughts, bearing for the planet.”
“There’s gotta be at least 3 million people down there,” Admiral Flynn croaked. He got on his comms.
“This is Flynn, what’s the status of our forces in Edoris Sector?” he asked his adjutant through his comms.
“3 battleships, 12 frigates,” was the quick reply. Jeryl’s heart sank at that. Despite all the investment the Armada had done to upgrade the fleet, there was no way in hell they’d be able to stand their ground against the Sonali with numbers like those.
“Fuck,” Jeryl muttered, his eyes never leaving the screen. Even if every single ship in the sector rallied to protect the Davos II station, the Sonali had the upper hand. Jeryl balled his hands into fists, his fingernails digging deep into his skin; he would’ve been there if it wasn’t for the stupid commendation.
Stunned, he watched as the Sonali fleet kept on firing against the station, a storm of particle beings tearing it apart. It didn’t take the Sonali more than one minute to turn one of the key Terran stations into a pile of rubble.
“Without the station—”
“The colony is defenseless,” Jeryl completed Admiral Flynn’s sentence, his blood freezing in his veins as he saw the Sonali fleet moving away from the destroyed Davos II station. Just like The Seeker’s battalion had done in the Oriane colony, the Sonali fleet lined up along Davos II’s orbit, their plasma cannons powering up as they prepared to glass the planet.
“These fucking animals,” Flynn grunted through his gritted teeth. Judging from the expression on the Admiral’s face, Jeryl wouldn’t be surprised if the man simply stood up and ripped one of the screens off the wall; his rage was so palpable that it was almost enough to boil the whiskey in Jeryl’s glass.
“No,” Jeryl muttered as the Sonali fired upon the planet, a never ending stream of particle beams cutting through the atmosphere of the colony. It took them over five minutes to destroy the major settlements on the planet, and everyone in the Officers Lounge simply watched in stunned silence as the Sonali silenced more than three million people.
Human life has never been this been extinguished this easily before, Jeryl thought, his heart so tight he no longer felt it beating inside his chest. Not even during the Third World War did so many people die.
“This can’t go on for much longer,” Flynn finally said, his gruff voice cutting through the silence that had settled around them. “We can’t take one more year of this.”
“No, we can’t,” Jeryl agreed, never taking his eyes off the screen. Davos II’s atmosphere had acquired a red hue, and Jeryl couldn’t help but imagine how terrible it must have been for the people on the ground, knowing that death had come knocking at their door and that there’d be no rescue.
“We got to put a stop to the madness,” Flynn continued, and Jeryl was no longer sure if the old Admiral was talking to him or simply trying to rearrange his own thoughts. Either way, Jeryl agreed with every word—they had to put a stop to the madness, one way or another. “Whatever it takes, son...we’ll do whatever it takes to stop them.”
“Whatever it takes,” Jeryl repeated slowly, the certainty of his own voice scaring him. He knew that, if necessary, he’d kill every single Sonali with his bare hands if that meant the end of the conflict.
And that scared him.
They had been at war for four years, and Jeryl was already a different man than the one that went out searching for The Mariner.
He was scared what four more years would do to him.
Book III
Book III
2202
Chapter 1
Jeryl
Five years.
Five years of war.
Five years of blood.
Four billion humans dead.
Jeryl hadn’t shaved in two days. He used to be clean-shaven every day; it was part of the Armada regulations. But somewhere along the line, he stopped. Maybe it was during one of the many of the battles over the last two years after Davos II where The Seeker kept diverting power from non-essential things like lights in crew quarters. Or when they were sneaking along in radio silence, and people were so jumpy that trying to shave would have resulted in a cut neck.
In fact, the nagging thought in the back of his head had returned again.
If he could go back in time to when they first discovered the ruins of The Mariner… well, then he would tell Admiral Flynn nothing. He wouldn’t even mention that damn ship.
And then he would tell himself to turn the ship around and make the best possible speed back to Edoris station.
Because it’s not like a lot of things went wrong. It was just one thing:
Him.
Jeryl wondered briefly why he was thinking back to that that moment. After so many battles, so many engagements, why go back to that one moment in time?
He sat in one of the briefing rooms of Edoris station, surrounded by three other ship captains. There was a briefing that Admiral Flynn would be doing shortly. They would be going over their part of a new campaign that was being called the Wolf offensive; The Seeker had been tapped for a crucial role.
No one knew what the Wolf Offensive entailed just yet, but hopefully, it was something that was going to bring the war to a close.
Endless combat did more to Jeryl than not shaving. It made him dark. Edgy. Jeryl found himself thinking the most random things in the universe. Sometimes he wondered if there was something he could’ve done to prevent the war. He knew that the part of him that answered back with answers that he didn’t want to hear was the part that told him it wasn’t just something he could’ve done.
It was everything he could’ve done.
He could’ve turned the ship around. He could’ve not brought up the fact that The Mariner was destroyed when he talked to the Sonali. He could’ve filed a different report with Armada Command. He could’ve spoken up when Armada Command began to question whether it was the Sonali that destroyed The Mariner.
From the very beginning, Armada Command believed that the Sonali were responsible and it colored everything that they did. So there was never any diplomatic interchange. There were never any cultural awareness expeditions. Instead, immediately after first contact, they were sent away from their territory into a border dispute prompted by what happened to The Mariner.
The battle cry, “Remember The Mariner,” resonated throughout the Earth, throughout the Union, even throughout the Outers.
Jeryl remembered the first engagement where he saw a colony bombarded orbitally from above—killing millions on the surface. It was so long ago, but he remembered it as if it were yesterday. He remembered having to strand fifteen thousand refugees as a dreadnought approached.
He remembered Terran offensives. Lately, colony attacks were met with Armada retaliatory strikes. It took a while, but eventually, human savagery shone through. Something somewhere had snapped. Now Armada captains glassed Sonali planets—killing their civilians with something near glee.
They’d gone mad as a race. Losing billions of people will do that to anyone.
“What are we doing here, you think?” one of the Captains, a Gonçalo Richard asked.
“I heard we’re going to lead a full-frontal assault during Wolf Offensive,” another captain responded.
Jeryl’s ears perked up and he leaned forward. It was a rather optimistic tone from someone who’d been in a sector that had seen the heights of the war that no other area of the Terran Union has experienced.
There’d been a lot of fighting. Entire worlds have been laid to waste, more than anything that ever happened to Earth during the Third World War.
Jeryl realized that he had lost himself once again in thoughts about the war and he shook himself awake.
4 billion people…dead.
It was almost too large of a number to comprehend. Add the countless Sonali dead and the last five years had been brutal. Entire colony worlds that had been around for generations, some with populations that numbered in the hundreds of millions—glassed.
The Sonali had begun the process in bombarding planets initially. But oh, how quickly the Terrans had caught on. Both sides didn’t even bother to invade or send any sort of ground forces after a while. They came, they bombarded, they destroyed all life on the surface, and then they retreated.
Unconventional warfare also reared its head. Terran Armada Intelligence began to play a greater role in the war.
They used pirates to smuggle thermonuclear packages into their worlds. They sent suicide runs of ships who took out entire worlds. They had attacked their star bases, their planets, and their shipping lines.
After the destruction of Davos II, The Seeker was assigned to the Edoris Station Battle Group to patrol the Edoris Sector. They had started with 240 starships. There were 78 left from the original fleet. They’d had replacement ships and crews – but one by one, ships fell. People died.
Jeryl knew Admiral Flynn had a hell of a lot to deal with. He’d seen so many captains reporting to him that were no longer around. He was probably never going to live down the death of the billions of people whose blood he had on his hands.
But even with those theoretical weapons they’d developed, they were at best fighting to a stalemate. It used to take several Armada ships to bring down a Sonali. Now, it only took two Armada vessels to be destroyed to bring down one Sonali cruiser.
Do I sound bitter? Well, that’s because I fucking am, he thought to himself.
It had gotten to the point where failure was not an option. Failure meant death. There was no other way to put it except this. It has become the defining conflict of their lives.
That part of Jeryl’s brain that he didn’t want giving him any ideas, the one asking him questions—it was what made him laugh. He was thinking back to the people who served on The Seeker.
No man, including him, had ever fought in a war this large and this devastating. But entire classes in the Academy today were graduating having only known war. The Sonali were relentless. They came and attacked with a ferocity that no one would ever expect.
Sadly, it took no time for humanity to match that ferocity. The one thing that had come out of this, thought Jeryl--a fucked up silver lining—was that the technology advancements that they had gotten through the war had really expedited the rebuilding of Earth.
Not that that really mattered if the Sonali came into orbit of New Washington or Earth and began bombardment on those cities—that would make World War III look like a walk in the park.
Jeryl worried about Earth every day. His crew felt it.
They all thought about their home planets. He could see it in their faces as well. Every time a colony world fell, they got word that a settlement had been attacked; he saw it in their faces. Did they know anyone there? Did they have any family there? Did they have any friends? Could it happen to their home planet?
It kept them up at night and never let them sleep. But sometimes, that was a good thing, because sleeping tended to turn those thoughts into nightmares.
Surprisingly, the morale had been pretty good within the Armada the last year or so. Command had seen fit to reorganize along much better lines of command than anything they had ever had before. They got a new president of the Union who actually seemed to want to prosecute this war and preserve humanity. He campaigned during the second year of the war on a platform that was both morbid and funny—‘Preserve Humanity’.
Of course, that meant more corporate involvement. Jeryl wondered what new corporate shingle would be hanging outside the briefing room on the Edoris Station Promenade when he went out.
Maybe another Trinidec Pleasure Palace? Or a billboard from the Astra Corporation?
Would it even matter if the Sonali came out of nowhere and vaporized this station in a coordinated assault? Before they break through the lines and go destroy humanity?
Sounds kind of melodramatic, doesn’t it? Jeryl asked himself, shaking his head.
In truth, that was what a lot of people were worried about. That these were the last days of the human race.
By now, Jeryl had counted at least 100 engagements with the enemy. He’d seen ships destroyed in front of his eyes.
Sure, there had been technological advancements. They’d encountered other alien races as they jumpstarted their exploration through the sector. Multiple contacts with multiple species as a result of war.
Thank God we didn’t get into more conflicts with them, the captain told himself.
And perhaps one of the biggest things ever—the Terran Union and the Armada finally looking outward rather than just inward. Of course, they’d their backs to the wall. Today, they were fighting for survival. But there was a chance that maybe, they could get out of this alive and not go extinct as a species.
Admiral Flynn walked in, disrupting Jeryl’s ruminating. The sliding doors closed and he took the dais.
“Thank you for being here, gentlemen,” he said as he looked into each of the three faces. “We are here today to discuss your role in the Wolf Offensive. A campaign we hope that will turn the tide and end this war.”
Admiral Flynn continued. “Within several days’ time, a fleet of over 400 starships from the Armada will be amassing at this station. We will be striking at the heart of the Sonali defenses in this sector. You will not be a part of it.”
Jeryl’s eyes opened wide and leaned forward. If they weren’t going to be part of one of the greatest offenses in the history of human warfare, then he wanted to know what they were going to be doing.
He knew that Admiral Flynn would tell them in time. He also knew that he was going to keep as much information, as he wasn’t allowed to share it himself. But he knew this as well—that Admiral Flynn wanted this war to be over. He was right there with Jeryl when the Captain thought about how it started.
Not with the demands back-and-forth to re-compensate them for the destruction of The Mariner. Not the speeches by the politicians who tried to whip the crowd into a frenzy for war. Not even from the decision within Armada Command to make the first strike. That first strike was not the start of this conflict.
The first salvo in this conflict, the first conversation about a potential war, all that occurred over one coded slipstream frequency when he reported back on the state of The Mariner debris to Admiral Flynn.
Earlier, Jeryl remembered thinking there were a lot of things he could’ve done. Well, he bet that Admiral Flynn thought that there were a lot of things he could’ve done, as well. In fact, the Captain thought the Admiral went over his actions five years ago with a fine tooth comb.
A half-dozen orders just within the few hours of discovering the wreckage would’ve altered today and the state that they were in. He knew that Flynn was thinking none of these would’ve happened if he had given those orders. And not just Jeryl. Other people were probably thinking something similar as well.
It looked like all of them would pay for any mistakes he’d made. After watching humans die and forced to kill Sonali, he didn’t really know if he had the ability to care anymore.
It’s like you go numb inside after the first billion deaths, he thought. It’s like with every death that I see or cause, another part of my soul is on its one-way trip to hell.
“Your target…” the Admiral continued, and Jeryl raised his eyes to shake himself awake and pay attention.
“…is none other than the central planet of all Sonali religion,” he finished.
Well, this should be interesting.
Chapter 2
Ashley
“The best I can do is 26 hours,” the Edoris station engineer said to Ashley.
“26 hours is too long. That’s just way too long to repair the deflector screens,” she answered back to the engineer. His gray eyes bore into her, as if he was trying to look into her soul.
“Look, Commander Gaines,” he said. “You’re not the first person who’s come up to tell me that my repairs take too long. You’re not even the highest ranking person who’s come up to me telling me my repairs take too long. Let me ask you this. You want me to put together a half ass job so that when you go out there and fight the blue skins you end up falling apart faster and having to limp back and I got do this job all over again?”
Ashley was silent.
“Or do you want me to do a good job, get your good deflector screen upgrades, so that when you fight those fuckers and kick their ass, you don’t have to come crawling back to the station—if it’s even around—to get an upgrade?” he finished.
A part of Ashley had to be absolutely honest: the engineer made a very good point. But the key statement in that entire diatribe that stuck out to her was whether the station was still going to be around the next time they come back.
It had been a long war. The destruction over the last five years had been unprecedented—even to The Seeker. They were doing with an upgraded battle cruiser using the name nowadays. An encounter at New Sydney six months after the fall of Davos II had led to the destruction of the old frigate. She couldn’t say that she didn’t like the new ship, but a part of her sometimes missed the old one. It had become home after a lot of years.
“16 hours is fine,” the commander finally said. “There’s a problem with the inertial dampers too. Think you could take a look at that while you’re under the hood?”
“You got it,” he said to Ashley and started inputting orders into his tablet.
“How many ships are in the queue?” Ashley asked. He looked at her and gave her a rueful smile.
“You don’t even want to know,” he said with a chuckle. “Fix up one, another three get in line. But I guess it’s better for them to come back damaged than not come back at all.”
The engineer had a point. At the very beginning of the war, the number of Terran Union ships that it took to bring down one Sonali vessel was staggering. It seemed like every ship that they had was ill-equipped to fight the graceful and superior design of the Sonali. There were encounters where it took five ships to bring down one Sonali vessel.
But that wasn’t to say that the scientists and the corporations didn’t do their damnedest to try to even those odds. Three years ago, during one of their largest offensives, humankind finally began to hold their lines. And not just hold their lines, but turn the tide.
But the cost of resources? The cost of manpower? All those people for 2 ½ years who died just to halt an invasion?
That could never be recovered.
It had been a long war, and not just for their crew. For the first time ever, the rebuilding of the planet Earth was put on hold to ensure the survival of humanity.
Not that there hadn’t been some good that had come out of it. For the first time, the Outer Colonies, seeing Earth at the losing end of a war and facing extinction, finally began moving towards a path and towards meaningful diplomatic contact.
For Ashley, it was surprising to hear; she was someone who had only known the Outer Colonies as belligerent isolationist, and uninterested in anything to do with the Terran Union. But for the first time, emissaries were arriving on Earth to begin the process of opening a dialogue.
Where the dialogue was going, Ashley didn’t know. That was beyond her pay grade. But what she did know was that if there was some meaningful progress on that front, then maybe there was hope for them as a species in surviving this.
“I’ll start working with the dock master to get the ship detailed and ready to go in the next two days with all the things we talked about,” the engineer said to her.
Ashley nodded. Her mission while the crew was docked at the station was to make sure that the battle damage The Seeker suffered got repaired to the best of this station’s abilities.
She knew that not everything was going to get fixed. The inertial dampers, like she said, were shot. The molecular resequensor only worked at limited capacity. The captain had diverted all nonessential energy toward weapons and critical ships functions. The last firefight that they were in ravaged the sick bay but they had to make do. In order to repair it, they needed a full crew to detail out the sick bay and that would shelve them for at least two weeks.
They didn’t have two weeks.
They needed to be out there, in space, fighting the Sonali, defending the innocent—before they ravaged humankind more.
Ashley was about to end her impromptu meeting with the stations engineer when she spied Jeryl walking toward her. His face was careworn, as if the weight of the galaxy was hanging on his shoulders. It sounded like an exaggeration but it really did seem like that, she thought.
The war had been particularly hard on him. He was the captain that carried out the first contact with an alien race, the one who’s actions led directly to five years of brutal war. It couldn’t be easy.
Ashley tried to talk to him about it several times but he never opened up.
Jeryl walked up to her, and the engineer saluted. She realized that she had gotten so used to being his wife that she often forgot all the considerations when they were out amongst others.
But then again, this was an impromptu meeting. She saw the engineer walking, and she side-lined him, dragging him toward the bay windows overlooking deep space. That was where she had started hounding him and harassing him about when they would get the repairs done.
It was a good thing she did, or else they’d be here for three or four days getting critical repairs done…Or, like some ships she knew, it would be sent back out without being able to get anything fixed.
“How’d it go?” she asked as Jeryl looked at her.
“We have new orders,” he said to her.
“Anything fun?” Ashley asked, trying to put a mischievous smile on her face.
She needed to try to lighten his mood; there was too much gloom and doom going around.
No surprise there with several billion dead staring down at you, she thought.
Although, Ashley had to admit that a part of her was a little bit happy. Why? Because for the first time in a long time, the Armada was looking outwards. It was upgrading.
Only the strong amongst them survived.
For the longest time, no one in the Armada knew what real conflict was like. Sure, little border skirmishes with the Outers, helping some corporations chase down some pirates.
But a real war?
This is going to stay with us for life, Ashley thought. And yes, that’s a bad thing. But somehow, it’s also a good thing as it teaches us to treasure the time that we have.
But what does that do internally? she couldn’t help but wonder. What damage did that do to the democratic institutions and the things that the Terran Union has enshrined in its society?
Their president was elected every six years. Three years ago, they had a new one who was elected at the height of defeat. Three years from now and it would be time for him to step down as well if he lost re-election. But if by then, this war was still going on, would he? Will there be a peaceful transition of power at the highest halls of the Terran Union?
Sighing, Ashley let her gaze fall down to her hands, and then to the golden band on her finger. It caught the bright lights of the hangar, and Ashley saw her distorted reflection in there, as if her soul were trapped inside.
It had been a long war. But at least we’re together.
There was no more of the awkwardness about what happened back in New Sydney, she realized.
But how will this war test our marriage? And what will I do if Jeryl dies?
“Depends on what you think is fun, Ashley,” Jeryl said, bringing her back from her reverie.
“The Seeker’s gonna be leading a group of starships as part of a new offensive,” Jeryl said. “We’re going to be making a major one. This is the Wolf Offensive the people have been waiting for—and our ship’s gonna play a critical role.”
She could see the engineer and his ears perked up. The last couple of weeks all anyone could talk about had been the Wolf Offensive. Designed by Mortimer Wolf of Armada Intelligence, this offensive was supposed to be something big. No one knew what it was, but they did know that it was supposed to be a game changer.
“I need you to be battle ready in 24 hours, and I’ll debrief you then,” Jeryl told her, maintaining formality in front of the engineer. “At the temporary quarters on the station.”
“I’ll actually have the deflector screens repaired, a new complement of torpedoes ready for you, and the inertial dampers stabilized so that they don’t give you any trouble anymore in 12 hours,” the engineer said both to Jeryl and Ashley. “When your ship goes out in the battle, she’ll be ready.”
Ashley nodded, smiling at the sudden importance The Seeker had taken on in the engineer’s queue for repairs.
“Great,” Jeryl said with a sigh. But before Ashley could say anything back, he turned around and walked to the elevator.
“He’s a legend,” the engineer breathed, almost to himself.
She nodded. After discovering the Sonali, dealing with them, and leading many of the campaigns of this war, Jeryl Montgomery very well might be a living legend.
But she knew him better to know what he really was: the first casualty of the Earth-Sonali War.
Chapter 3
Admiral Flynn
Flynn had always known that war was never pretty.
After almost destroying themselves, it was almost ironic to think that the demise of the human race might happen at the hands of an alien race. Flynn wanted nothing more than to serve his final years as an Armada Admiral and perhaps enjoy a comfortable retirement back on Earth. Or maybe New Sydney. OR Elysium. There had to be at least a dozen worlds with good climates he could go to and relax his last years on.
The money he had saved (and never had the time to spend) would be enough for him to spend the rest of his days drinking imported liquor from the Atuar colony while nodding off at one of these pink-colored beaches.
The Sonali respected nothing, though—and that included his retirement plans.
Standing in his office, directly adjacent to the center of operations of the Edoris Station, he placed his hands behind his back and looked out the curved window. Outside, the vastness of space seemed to call to him—it whispered the name of four billion dead, a legion of souls lost in a conflict no one saw coming.
The entire office was rugged in a deep blue, stern and uninviting. Hanging behind the desk was the giant emblem of the Terran Armada, a red eagle with fierce beaded eyes encircled by stars. The massive window looking out into deeper space was behind Flynn’s sprawling desk that served more of a work station. On the other end of his office, opposite from his desk was the entrance; past that door was a small anteroom where his secretary was stationed.
To the right was a couch arrangement and a small central table. A few years ago, seated on those couches were diplomats and politicians—nowadays it was always high-brass military men. When the politicians wanted in on those meetings, Flynn would use the conference room one deck below.
To the left was another door that led directly into the Station Control Center (SCC). That was where everything about the ship was run. And in the case of an emergency, the SCC was where the commands to fire or evade would be given.
A shelf by the right wall displayed all his laurels and awards. Trinkets, the way Flynn saw it. A man’s worth wasn’t measured in badges, but at least they proved that he was no a desk jockey who rose through the ranks in the Armada by pushing papers.
Flynn was battle tested. Battle hardened.
When Captains and Commanders came in, they knew they weren’t dealing with a bureaucrat. Flynn was every bit the man the Armada pandered about, even if he never cared about all that bolstering. He was not a wash out, not a flunkie, unlike some other admirals, whose positions were political rather than strategic or tactical.
Sinking down onto his chair, he let his gaze fall on the stack of reports sitting there, most of them belonging to Captain Montgomery.
Jeryl was almost like a son to Flynn. An interesting fact, considering that he never had a son to call his own. But Jeryl was someone he saw himself in. His impulses, his reasoning, his ability to function under pressure. He had never seen such cunning and talent in any other fleet captain since he became captain. It wasn’t that they never had great captains; they did.
But Flynn was yet to see anyone who combined a host of excellent qualities in the pursuit of their duties as officers in the Terran Armada. He had never told him all this, of course, but the trust Flynn had in Jeryl had always been a factor in his decision process.
They had seen shared horror together. Flynn still remembered the months after the fall of Davos II. Jeryl had proven competent and strong.
“Admiral, you have a slipstream call from Admiral Walker,” the communications officer said over Flynn’s comm link.
“Right. Patch him in,” he said, stowing away the papers.
Admiral Walker materialized right in the middle of his office. It was a live size three-dimensional rendering of the Admiral. Walker was dressed smartly in the overall of a five-star Armada admiral, his hands folded behind him. He had a white moustache and despite the deep carved lines in his face, he possessed the vitality of a man in his prime. With more than ten years on Flynn, Walker still looked fierce enough to chew off a Sonali battalion all by himself.
“Admiral Walker, sir,” Flynn said with a firm nod by way of greeting.
“Flynn,” he nodded curtly.
“The Wolf Initiative has begun,” Flynn told Walker, doing his best to read the expression on his face. Like always, it was a completely blank page. Flynn doubted the man knew the meaning behind the word emotion.
“Captain Jeryl has been briefed about it, and given command of the other Captains in his section of the fleet.”
“Captain Jeryl,” Walker whispered, his unblinking eyes never leaving Flynn’s. “You think he’s the man for the job?”
“I do,” Flynn replied, letting the mere tone of his voice do the job.
Walker didn’t need an explanation. He was more than aware of everything Jeryl had done during the war. Captain Jeryl Montgomery made his name as the Captain that discovered alien life, but he didn’t stop there. Instead of resting on his laurels, he was instrumental to the war effort. Commanding a retrofitted version of The Seeker, he had been through the thick of it all.
Children all across the galaxy had heard his name, thought Flynn. Who hasn’t? The months after Davos II were rough, but they were unprecedented in their manifestation of human rage. After the battle for the Chartly star system Jeryl became a household name. Commanding The Seeker, he outmaneuvered a Sonali Dreadnaught responsible for downing more than ten of their ships.
The Spartan, as the young recruits liked to call it, was a Sonali ship responsible for the destruction of too many ships in their fleet. Up until it clashed with The Seeker, The Spartan had a track record of all kills.
Every battle it fought in, it won.
Every ship it met with, it destroyed.
Then it met The Seeker and its Captain.
Six months after that, and Jeryl made the headlines again with his capture of the Sonali Main Forward Base, just outside the Edoris Star System.
Flynn didn’t know what the Sonali called it. But what he did know was that they planned most of their attacks through it. They re-supplied their ships operating in enemy space through it. Ground invasions that occurred were staged in the systems on this planet.
Three months stalemate between the Sonali and their forces had gradually enveloped both powers. Many ships had been destroyed. Billions of lives on both sides…too many lives had been lost. The Sonali were winning, albeit in trickles.
Then came the upgrades.
Their counter-offensives.
Armed with a combination of trickery, skill, and sheer brute force power, and spearheaded by Jeryl Montgomery, they were able to crack up the Sonali tight defense, which gave the remaining fleet the opportunity to mount a potent offensive that obliterated the Sonali trying to make a run into the Edoris Sector after the devastation that haunted the Davos Sector.
“Sir, Captain Montgomery has been doing a good job,” Flynn continued, filling the silence in the room. “I want to put in a recommendation for him to be promoted to a Vice Admiral in charge of Edoris Theatre of Operations.”
Walker seemed to agree. He nodded his head, his eyes still on Flynn’s.
“Noted. Do send in an official recommendation. I will take it up with the board and consider it.”
“There’s something else I have been thinking about,” said Flynn. He let his gaze wander out into the coldness of space.
“This war has opened up a lot of avenues for us to grow in military strength and power. Many people who have joined the Academy, and we now have soldiers with nothing but military experience. Don’t you think this will cause the other vital aspects of our community to atrophy? Aspects like science, exploration…?”
Sighing, Flynn clasped his hands behind his back and returned his gaze back at Walker. “We’re more than just warriors.”
“War doesn’t always go well for humans,” Walker replied. “Or for anyone. Do we like it? No. Can we help it? No. So what do we do?”
“We focus on what we can do, which is winning the war,” replied Flynn. “Because the sooner we win this war, the earlier we can all go home or pursue the areas that we came out into space to do.”
“This final offensive needs to be so effective that the Sonali will have to come to the negotiating table. We want them to negotiate a truce, or at least an armistice. We can’t keep this war going for much longer. We don’t have a conscription policy in the Terran Union, and frankly I know many planets will rebel and break away if there were,” Walker said.
“How bad is it right now?” Flynn asked.
“Bad,” was all Admiral Walker said.
“If we don’t start making some material gain from this conflict, which you and I know is a rare possibility…and if we don’t gain some momentum, then we’ve just delayed the inevitable. We’re exhausted, Flynn, and we estimate that we will be defeated in under a year. That damned Armada Intelligence report – I know you’ve seen it – was spot fucking on. I don’t have to remind you, then, how important this planned final offensive is. The continued survival and freedom of the Terran Union depends entirely on this operation.”
Flynn felt the blood drain from his face as he was drawn to the reality of their present predicament.
We can’t go on fighting this war, he thought. But can we afford not to?
He had always been a solitary man, unmarried and without kids. But now, he felt that to be a blessing. The end to which the Terran Union and the Armada were headed wasn’t an end he would want his family to exist in.
Chapter 4
Jeryl
A few hours later, he and Ashley went over the Wolf Offensive in his private office off CNC. It was smaller than his old office aboard the original The Seeker, even though the electronics were superior. There was more computing power in this one chamber than there were in the entirety of the old ship, but it wasn’t as comfortable.
“Details of the plan,” Jeryl told her, sending the file to her tablet. “There are 395 ships in the fleet. According to Flynn we’re going to be leading a smaller flotilla of twenty-two ships ranging in size from dreadnoughts to small cruisers and one-man fighters.”
“Are all the flotillas going to be broken up like that?”
“Depending on how many of equal size can be put together from the complement of ships, yes,” said Jeryl. “Some will have more or less of a given weight class, of course. No more than one dreadnought, ever, but anywhere from seven to twelve fighters. Ours has eight, for example.”
Ashley wrinkled up her nose. Jeryl almost smiled but he caught himself; he had always found that expression adorable, but he knew better than to say it. This wasn’t the time or place for him to do such a thing.
“Eight isn’t very many,” she said.
“That’s true, but figure that out of the 396 in the entire fleet, you’ll have well over a hundred. And it’s my understanding that this isn’t the only fleet.”
She nodded, staring at the data on her tablet.
“How are the repairs going?” asked Jeryl.
“Well enough,” she said with a small smile. “That engineer I was talking to told me it would be ready on his timeline. Then you came over and destroyed all the resistance!”
Jeryl grinned. “What can I say? Straight from the top.”
“Nothing like cutting through bureaucracy,” said Ashley. “Anyway, everything’s on schedule, and none of the crew will mind getting extra sleep period or a little more shore leave.”
She shrugged. “As long as those damned inertial dampers are fixed, I don’t care.”
“And the resequencer,” Jeryl said. “The coffee on this tub is bad enough without it tasting like soapy water like it does now.”
He clicked his tongue.
“Anyway, so look.” He sent the attack plan to the room’s main screen. “The main thrust of the Wolf plan will be toward Beta Hydrae, which Terran Command believes is the nexus of Sonali control within this Sector.”
She made an interested noise as Jeryl continue.
“Now, you can see here that Beta Hyrdae is a double-star system. The larger component is a blue star about two and a half times the size of our sun.”
“Hot,” she said.
“Very. And it’s also a variable, α2 CVn variable. Lots of metals on its surface layers, uneven temperature distribution across the photosphere, that sort of thing.”
“A place to avoid,” she acknowledged. “The Sonali can’t be from there, can they? I mean, a variable, it’ll flood that system with all sorts of radiation at intervals.” She looks at her tablet.
“They’ve established a series of underground and shielded shelters for a sizable population,” Jeryl said.
He expanded the view.
“There are five planets, as you can see here. The third one out from the primary is the one we’re interested in, Beta Hydrae III. No one’s given it a proper name yet. Intelligence says that the place has some sort of religious significance for the Sonali.”
Her look was blank. “Like what?”
“No one knows for sure. Something like how the Star of Bethlehem was for Christians.”
She nodded in understanding.
Jeryl continued, “Anyway, some mythological nonsense. The Union believe if they can wipe it out, it’ll ruin Sonali morale.”
The nose-wrinkling again. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe.”
“Well, Command thinks it’s worth committing a hell of a lot of resources to do.”
“We’ve been fighting those bastards for a while now,” she said. “Do we have a clear idea yet of the exact volume of space the Sonali control?”
“Intelligence says their territory is roughly half the size of Union space. Our colonies are far-flung, but the Sonali’s are closer together and more developed than ours.”
“What exactly is the point of this mission, Jeryl?” she asked as she read the specifics on her tablet.
Jeryl took a pause.
“The main assault will come from the main force,” said Jeryl in measured tones. “We expect heavy Sonali resistance. Our job is to take a small contingent of ships through a more circuitous approach. Come at them from another direction while they’re busy holding off our main fleet. And then bombard their infrastructure on the planet and destroy their ability to use their infrastructure on conducting war in the future.”
There was a pause.
She studied her tablet.
“I don’t know,” she said again after a few moments. “I know we’re anxious to strike a decisive blow, but this...capturing or destroying Beta Hydrae III? The Sonali are fanatics, Jeryl. Half the deal with this war is that they see us as heathens, unbelievers. If we crap in their manger, they could really get pissed off. It could be like stepping on a nest of fire ants.”
“I agree; but look, Ash—this could be our last chance. You know as well as I do what the scuttlebutt is; we’re sucking wind in this war. It isn’t going well. This attack is probably the only thing humanity can do.”
“What’s the population according to our estimates?” she asked.
This part rankles me, thought Jeryl, but I know I need to let her in on it.
“We estimate up to 1 billion Sonali are living in shielded subterranean caves or domed and shielded structures,” he said.
Silence.
“We’ll be bombarding the planet to the point to make it tectonically unstable. No ground troops,” he said. “Intelligence estimates that we can accomplish this through sustained bombardment with ten ships. We have twenty in our flotilla in case some get scrapped along the way.”
“Genocide,” she whispered.
“It’s been done to us by them,” Jeryl said evenly. He had prepared for this. “We’ve done it too. This isn’t the first time.”
“A billion people,” she countered.
“Things are bad out there, Ash.” .
“I don’t want to think they’re that bad that we have to do this,” she said.
“Who the hell does? For the past three years, all Sonali attacks on our territories have come through this route. They’ve all followed this path. It’s as if they make a sort of, I don’t know, a parade pass of Beta Hydrae III on their way to fight. Like they think they’re receiving a blessing or something. Here, look.”
Jeryl called up some more data files, things she hadn’t yet seen. “These are scans from hyper-speed robot probes we’ve sent through that system.”
“What?" she frowned. “Hyper speed what, now?”
“Robot probes. One of our ships drops out of FTL out past the cometary cloud and spits out a probe, then heads out on full drive again, so fast the Sonali don’t know it’s been there. The probe drops sunward at three times light speed. The hyper-drive fries its instruments, of course, because it’s too small for adequate shielding; but before that happens it whips past III so fast it can’t be detected unless you know exactly where to look. And as it passes, it images the bejesus out of the planet. Then it plunges into the star. Poof! Gone, like it never existed.”
“Well, that’s pretty frictionless,” she said in admiration.
“It is that. So, from those little probes, we know the Sonali have major defenses around III.”
“Fine, but we’re not going to be able to get in like that,” she said. “Looks to me that we’ll have to come in through this nebula, here; the radiation output from its central star will mask our drive signature.”
“That’s exactly right,” Jeryl said. A peculiar look crossed Ashley’s face.
“Jeryl...”
“What?”
“Well, look at the location of that nebula.”
“What about it?”
“Do you not recognize those coordinates?”
He scowled at his tablet, and glanced up at the main screen as if the larger numbers would jog his memory. And then he saw it
“Aw, hell,” he said. “That’s The Mariner Nebula. Goddammit, that’s where we had First Contact with the Sonali.”
“Yes,” she said in a grim tone. She didn’t need to say anything more. It was where the Sonali said they claimed this space and that they didn’t destroy The Mariner.
It was where the war started.
Well, fuck me.
“If we had filed a different report, then 4 billion people might still be alive and we wouldn’t be at war,” said Ashley.
“I’m not going to argue that,” he muttered. She was right. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about that report a thousand times or more over the past few years. When he walked away from the confrontation, it was like Chamberlain appeasing Hitler. He basically gave those blue-skinned bastards carte blanche to make bolder incursions into their space, because they knew they were there, and that they couldn’t outfight them.
The whole thing is my fault.
“Everyone will be annihilated when we destroy that planet, Jeryl,” Ashley said again.
“So what? It’s not as if they haven’t killed enough of us over the past five years.”
“Violence begets violence,” she said.
All he could do was stare at her. Where has this come from? Had he been that preoccupied that he never noticed his wife change before his eyes?
Then Jeryl thought about it. He had changed, too, and he knew it. He was a hell of a lot more cynical than he used to be.
“Look, if you can’t do your job,” he said, trying to cover his confusion.
“I understand my job!” she barked. “And I’ll do it to the best of my ability...but I don’t have to be thrilled that it’s being made worse by more killing.”
Jeryl struggled to find something to say, but before he could, Ashley spoke, “The ship will be battle-ready within the next 10 hours, sir. I’ll see to it.”
Then she turned and left the room.
Marriage and command, he thought. The two don’t mix well.
Chapter 5
Jeryl
One thing that took a lot of getting used to in the new fleet—for Jeryl, anyway—was the transformation of the ships and stations into what were essentially space-going cities. This, Jeryl knew, had come about because they wanted to be seen by the Sonali as being every bit as capable as they were at lofting huge starships.
So now, their battle cruisers were almost as big as theirs. Jeryl personally found it rather wasteful of resources but he couldn’t deny that the results were impressive as hell.
Their stations were now impressive fortresses with guns pointing outward. And filled with opportunities to separate you from your money the moment you walk in.
The Union had contracted with a number of corporations to provide services aboard our stations, which were now so big that they dwarfed anything that would ever be conceived five years ago.
Jeryl stood on Edoris Station looking at the Promenade. There were 5,000 people on the station. They were bigger than some of the global cities at the end of World War III, Jeryl noted. Flashy logos and enticing odors met his eyes as he walked along the station’s central promenade. The corporations had dialed back the level of interaction so that the 3D holos were a lot less “in your face” than their civilian versions, but even so none of those things really belonged aboard a space station, as far as Jeryl was concerned.
But he was older than most of the new blood that had entered the service. They were a different generation, and were used to different things. The military was catering to them, in his opinion, and he found it irksome. Was there really a need for a brothel on board this station? He had passed by one, owned and operated by Trinidec. The girls were pneumatic and hospitable; some of them were even human, as opposed to sexbots. Jeryl didn’t think they belonged there, but it wasn’t his call.
Jeryl had a bit of downtime, when he didn’t have to be in a meeting or reporting to the admiral or overseeing a battle plan. The battle plans were done. Tomorrow they would engage the Sonali. Again. But he couldn’t think about it anymore. He was restless, dissatisfied.
He left his little cramped office and went for a walk through the huge central atrium of the station, which would once had been called a utility core but had been expanded and reshaped into a vast promenade.
It seemed more like a marketplace than a military establishment. Sure, the rank and file of the Armada was happy with the changes that had come down, and it was good to keep them motivated in the face of this war, but even so, Jeryl questioned the wisdom of it all.
He hadn’t spoken to anyone about it, but he had done a lot of thinking. He took a seat next to a babbling fountain in a small pocket park off the main drag. Given Earth’s recent history, he supposed it wasn’t surprising how they ended up as they were.
The corporations were the repositories of vast amounts of money, and during the reconstruction of the planet their surviving officers bought their way via venture capital into seats at the governing table. All the rules were rewritten to allow it, over the strenuous objection of the “old guard.”
So what they had now was a corporate republic, something new under the sun. Five pillars held up the society. The first pillar was the President. The second, the legislative body and the senate. The third pillar was the Armada. Fourth, the institutions: the Diplomatic service, the courts, the universities, the government offices, and the science establishment. And the final pillar of society was upheld by the corporations, each with its own representative to a “Corporate Council” that advised the government. The corporate media was part of this, as well, monitoring the entire system.
As anyone could expect, with that much money and power floating around, several of the corporations had their own standing fleets of mercenaries and “career” soldiers, in essence, private armies that do their masters’ bidding. The corpers had at times been reluctant to put these assets into play during the war with the Sonali. This resulted to some recent talk of nationalizing those private fleets, absorbing them into the actual military, if the corpers didn’t contribute regularly to the war effort. In an effort to pour some oil on that troubled water, the corpers cut a lot of deals with the fleet to install supply outlets and what-not into Armada installations at a far lower rate.
They lost some money up front, as Jeryl understood it, but that was why they now had brand-name fast foods aboard their vessels, and outfits like Trinidec doing hospitality on their station. And Jeryl hadn’t forgotten about Pooz, the hologram giant, providing holodeck gaming services next to the subdued multi-denominational house of worship.
There was another side of this as well. He pulled out his tablet and tapped into his e-mail program. There was a communication there from MacroCode Stargazers LLC, an offer in fact. How they could possibly know that his current hitch was about up was beyond him, but they must—because the e-mail contains an offer to hire him at a salary that was far greater than what he got as an officer in the Union military.
They wanted to hire “the Avenger,” which was what they called him—the Avenger of The Mariner—to helm their corporate space fleet. These would be state-of-the-art vessels, and he would have total control over battle plans, supply contractors, everything down to the choice of bands at company dances.
All he had to do was resign his commission.
And, may the great spirit of the galaxy help me, he thought.
He was considering it.
That was the third time some corporation had tried to pry him away from the Union. He was under no illusions about it; he was something of a celebrity, and the corpers traded off that sort of thing. There was no doubt that if he were to take the offer, Ashley and he could have a far better quality of life than they currently did. The new The Seeker was a hell of a ship, but it was not really military/exploration any longer. It was all geared toward war.
Like we said ‘fuck you’ to exploring.
He looked around the commercial playground. He knew it had been done to keep the troops happy during the grinding war, but it didn’t seem right to him. He knew from what he had seen of the corper fleets that they were leaner and meaner in some ways than theirs was.
He had seen so many ships destroyed and so many people dying. He had done so much killing himself. Tomorrow, he would see more of it, no doubt. He had had his fill of fighting and death. He saw the statistics, and watched the numbers of dead tick up.
He had become inured to it all. He had to—otherwise he wouldn’t be able to do his job. But after years of it...if the casualties go from 9 to 10 digits of dead people, at what point did it even matter? He felt that he had lost his determination in the face of the endless struggle.
He had accomplished much in the name of the Union. If he could spend his sunset years aboard some sleek corper ship maintaining order in a mining colony or keeping shipping lanes secure, then who would think the less of him?
I would.
Jeryl trashed the offer.
He got up from the bench and joined the flow of people, walking with no destination in mind. He never used to question his place in all of this, this interlocking structure of our culture. He had his assignment, and he carried it out as best as he could.
He took pride in it. He had Ashley, and her love.
But when did he ever have peace? When did he ever have a family?
If he were honest to himself, he would think he never wanted one; and neither did she. But now he was older, and he couldn’t’ help but wonder what it would be like to be a father. It felt as if his life had split into pieces, and he was left wondering how to put them back together.
What am I, who am I, without this war?
Did he love Ashley, or did he simply want comfort from her? Without the war to shape them, to give their lives purpose, what would they be? Would they still even be married?
So much had changed...it had jarred loose unpleasant thoughts and doubts that now spun around inside his head.
His aimless wandering brought him to the corridor where they had their temporary quarters. Jeryl frowned at the doorway. He didn’t mean to come here. He wanted to lose himself in the press of people, not hide away. He heaved a sigh and entered.
Inside, Ashley was seated at the small table in their miniscule sitting room, having coffee. (Okay, Jeryl admitted; it was good coffee. One benefit the corpers had brought them.)
Ashley was beautiful. She looked at Jeryl and all his doubts dropped away, replaced by sheer lust. He couldn’t get enough of her, he went to her, he put his hands on his shoulders and ran them down the sides of her breasts.
“Coffee?” He murmured into her hair.
“Sir, yes sir,” she murmured back.
Tomorrow, they would go into battle yet again. All their angst and frustration, though, was on hold now as she stood and pressed herself against him. He slid his hands down her back and gripped her ass. They kissed, and walked themselves, still kissing, into the sleeping chamber. They tore their uniforms off and lost themselves in each other.
I have found the solace I seek, Jeryl thought. Nothing else matters.
Chapter 6
Ashley
Nowadays, it was difficult to find peace and solace. The war had ravaged so many worlds. Hundreds of millions had died.
Not millions, Ashley corrected herself.
Billions. The number the government acknowledged was 4 billion.
Who knew if that was indeed the real number? Most of the damage was here, in the Edoris Sector. But it was all across the border with the Sonali. The border they only learned about through five years of attacks. They had all come through the Edoris Sector.
But even if it was 4 billion out of the 44 billion people that lived in the Terran Union, for Ashley, it was still a lot. Real people. Real people with beating hearts, living hopes, and now dead dreams. Sometimes she could almost see them in her dreams. Entire family lines had been wiped away.
Yet, they all kept fighting. They kept moving. They had to; they were compelled by the unprecedented losses they had endured to fight on, for if they did not fight on…then those loses would had been in vain.
Ashley had to adapt. Five years of war between the humans and the Sonali—she had to grow. She had watched the Terran Armada turn her into an instrument of deadly force. She had developed a military mind, one that had become far too comfortable with some of the atrocities of war.
Nevertheless, she had somehow managed to retain her humanity. She couldn’t say this for the rest of the crew of The Seeker. Not because she had witnessed any flagrant misdemeanor, but simply because…she didn’t know. War changed people in ways that were beyond recognition. In the heat of the moment, people just might surprise themselves at the things they could do.
She wasn’t the same First Officer Commander Ashley Gavin that served aboard The Seeker, five years back when they made First Contact (well… Second Contact) with the Sonali. Now, she was Captain Jeryl’s First Officer in The Seeker, now a Battle Cruiser.
She was also his wife; a good thing that came off their time serving together aboard the frigate.
They were docked at Edoris Station, but they were getting ready to move out. Final system checks were being run by the engineering department in conjunction with some of the station’s technical crew and engineers. The repairs had been tested and flexed as much as they could be while on the station.
She trusted the crew to conduct the tests and final checks without her breathing down their necks. By now they had already been briefed about where they were headed next and what was expected of them. They knew what was at stake.
This was humanity’s last stand. If they lost it here, it would only be a matter of time until humans became a footnote in the universe’s history. If they win here, though, humanity would finally have a hope at survival. The stakes were high and everyone knew it. Everyone was doing their best. Ashley just hoped that would be enough.
“This is good, being here with you,” Ashley whispered, looking at Jeryl a smile dawning on her lips. They were still in their temporary quarters, and she was locked in his arms, enjoying his hot breath in her hair and feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the memories of happiness that they had known through constant sadness flood her.
The fun.
The love making.
The many nights she spent in his arms looking at the stars.
Then, she focused in on last night. Jeryl was rough, but she liked it. Most times he was delicate. She supposed it had something to do with the war. Ashley could tell he was frustrated and angry and nervous. She would be too, if she were Captain.
Yes, she was First Officer, but the way she felt about the mission was nowhere compared to how he did. The weight of over three hundred personnel upon the ship wasn’t upon her shoulders but his. If she did something wrong, she could easily report to him. She had no one to report to save himself, especially during the heat of battle. She tried to always be there for him, whenever he needed her…but the burden of command was a solitary one.
“Do you sometimes feel that we don’t get enough time together?” Jeryl whispered to her.
Ashley wasn’t sure why, but his cool, lucid voice aroused her.
“All the time,” she replied, her voice nothing but a faint whisper. “It’s never enough. Even if we had every night for ourselves, it wouldn’t be enough.”
She heard him chuckle, and that made her smile. At least she still could still bring some semblance of happiness to the man who was known across the Terran Union as the Avenger of The Mariner.
The previous night had left her a little sore in so many places, and that was a good thing. She probably wouldn’t be seeing her husband until the end of this mission. From now on, he would just be the Captain. At least now she had something to think about for the duration of this final mission.
She tried one last joke. “You know, Captain, for someone who’s taking his crew to war it should’ve been your responsibility to ensure that I can walk this morning.”
Jeryl cracked up, his chuckle turning into generous laughter, and he grabbed her body tighter in his arm. Ashley felt a resurgence of last night’s desire, and she struggled to keep it together. One thing was sure: if she started kissing Jeryl, they wouldn’t leave this station's quarters for another thirty minutes…and they were scheduled to depart in ten.
“I love you,” he muttered to her, then lay his lips on her forehead.
Ashley retracted herself from his embrace and looked him in the eyes. He was smiling at her with a kindness he had never displayed towards anybody before, at least not in her presence.
And I’m always present, she thought, being his wife and First Officer.
Ashley was smiling too, but deep down she felt a shadow inside of her: they might not make it out of this alive. As she remembered that, her mind’s clouded with a strong sense of pain and anguish.
Tears came to her eyes and she didn’t know what to say. She saw Jeryl’s eyes grow darker, a sadness taking over him, and Ashley realized how deeply he cared for me.
Despite all the tension, the anguish, and the fights…this man loves me. Truly loves me.
“Captain Montgomery and First Officer Gavin to the CNC!” said a voice over the intercom.
They both looked up for the moment the intercom was active.
Without saying anything, Ashley stood up and got dressed, the First Officer uniform becoming her second skin. As she headed for the door, Jeryl caught her before she commanded it open.
“I swear this to you, Ashley, I will do everything within my power to…make sure we come back. Because we will make it out of this. Whatever it takes.”
A smile slipped helplessly onto face. “I’ve always known that, Captain.”
They walked out of the quarters and through the station and boarded the fast shuttle to The Seeker and made their way to the CNC. Every step she took toward the CNC was a step out of the fantasy world she built around her marriage with Jeryl, a safe place away from the cold indifference of an unforgiving universe.
“Captain on deck!” yelled a bulky man standing by the entrance into the CNC. He wielded a rifle and sported the blue and black uniform of ship security. This was one of the several changes that had occurred in the fleet that Ashley had never felt comfortable with. She took her stand by her station, wondering about the frailty of the Terran Armada personnel.
When a ship had to have special security staff to prevent mutinies, the fabric of the military was tearing. This put too much power in the hands of security, even though they reported directly to the Captain. It bred an unsavory and poisonous air of uncertainty and dread.
There were about three dedicated security soldiers in the CNC, all of which were assigned to Jeryl. They were his personal protection detail and this was another point of contention between Ashley and the higher-ups.
Why protect a Captain from his crew? What kind of message did that send? If anything, it was divisive; not exactly what was needed at this pivotal moment in the history of humanity.
They became standard issue on all starships after the encounter at Azukene Colony in which the crew went through a mutiny on the TUS Terror—unheard of at that point on any Armada vessel. The Captain had given orders for ramming speed. The crew didn’t think that the frigate they were in was going to do a damn thing against the Sonali dreadnaught. They refused to throw away their lives. Ashley knew they were unaccustomed to war—it had been the first year.
They murdered the Captain but by then, Sonali fighters had targeted them and taken out their FTL drives. Sonali ships swarmed around them and destroyed them along with the colony. But the automated last log that the ship sent out through slipstream captured those final moments on the CNC of that vessel.
And the Armada began to post security officers to protect their Captains.
Thankfully, Jeryl agreed with her, and he had refused to succumb to the paranoia that took over the entire Armada. Despite that, The Seeker’s security personnel had about twenty highly trained, highly skilled, and terribly equipped men and women who didn’t give a damn.
Ashley tried as much as possible to stay out of their way. They didn’t contribute anything to the culture and operations on The Seeker, so she just tried and let them be. She couldn’t fight Armada regulations, but she sure as hell could do her best to ignore them.
Jeryl took his seat and beamed at his CNC crew with pride. They didn’t notice it because everyone was frantic over their controls checking off last minute details and conducting final scans and ensuring readiness.
Ashley smiled at this and read through some of the reports waiting for her, her eyes going over the information cascading down her tablet screen. She was critical about logistics, because it was her duty to ensure the ship ran smoothly so the Captain could focus on the more important decisions.
After what felt like three seconds (but really was three minutes), the Captain said, “Clear all docking.”
“Aye, captain,” replied Henry Docherty, the navigator. The ship thrummed for a moment and there was a soft jerk as they were released from the station. Gently, they began to put some distance between them and the last safe place they would see for quite some time. Ashley didn’t notice a roar in the engines. The inertia dampers were working well. Too well, she noted.
“First Officer Gavin. Take the ship to high alert,” the Captain said.
“High alert, sir,” Ashley reported right after tapping her fingers across the command panel holographic dashboard. The lights in the CNC and all over the ship took on a slight reddish tint. Defensive screens took over the main view screen with reports of every critical system - weapons, FTL drive, life support…it was all there.
“Set course to Anderson Nebula,” Jeryl said at last, his voice somber. Still, there was a deep solemnity to his words. The kind of solemnity that told her what he was thinking about—and it was not pretty.
She felt a sharp jerk the moment the FTL drive kicked in and flung them into interstellar space.
“How long to The Mariner Nebula?” the Captain asked.
“Three days, Captain,” Docherty replied.
“It should give us enough time to complete whatever repairs are lagging,” the Captain said.
“Aye, Captain,” she replied.
This is it, thought Ashley. No turning back now.
Chapter 7
Admiral Flynn
The live slipstream feed projected a full holographic image of Admiral Walker into the center of Flynn’s office. The image was blotchy in some areas and a lot of times it frazzled. The sound, however, was good and crisp.
“Walker,” Flynn said by way of greeting. Even though he was spearheading the war effort, they had dropped the formalities between each other long ago.
Walker nodded. He was seated on a chair in his office, and that was where the slipstream captured him. The background wasn’t part of the holographic image, and Flynn knew that it was the same for him; Walker was only able to see him standing by his desk, and not his entire office.
“Flynn,” Admiral said in response. “What’s your status?”
Flynn heaved a sigh. He had been thinking about the mission he just sent over four hundred ships on.
What’s my status? Not a good one, that’s for sure.
He had been posing that question over and over again since the captains departed.
If they succeed and wiped out a billion innocent Sonali in one swipe, would that make him one of the greatest mass murderers in the history of the universe?
Flynn came up with a no. Nature or the cosmos was the universe’s deadliest and cruelest mass murderer.
From dust we came, to dust we shall return.
He smiled in spite of himself. How true that statement was. Did the universe even care about consequences? Or were they—humans and Sonali—playing the consciousness game while the cold universe treated them with the same insignificance it would to a speck of dust?
No, he wasn’t the universe’s greatest mass murderer. That prize went to the cosmos. But he knew that when this was all over, he would come in second. He wasn’t sure if that was how he wanted to be remembered, but he supposed that when it came to war no one got to choose their own legacy.
Snapping out of it, he looked up at the life-sized image of Admiral Walker.
“The captains departed two days ago, sir. The last of them will arrive at The Mariner nebula by tomorrow. No problems so far. The mission is still on course.”
Admiral Walker cleared his throat and folded his hands before him. He saw his hands float in the air, but he knew he had them on his table, which the slipstream didn’t project. He began to pace in front of his desk. He tethered on the verge of telling Admiral Walker his fears.
Despite their seniority, they had a lot in common. Walker was his senior back at the academy, and he had served under his command twice. Once as a First Officer, and another time as a Captain within his jurisdiction. Now, at this crucial moment in the galaxy’s history, he was serving with him. Not for him.
He had never thought to have the opportunity to determine the course of the universe. Now, he found himself saddled with that responsibility—and who else to help him carry it but Walker himself?
The Admiral must have had noticed Flynn’s discomfort,
“You know how important this mission is, Flynn. Do I need to remind you of that?”
There was some sort of unspoken tradition in the fleet—when a CO asked such a question anyone should reply with a firm negative, even though Flynn sure needed reminding.
But Flynn didn’t.
Not because he needed reminding, but because he wasn’t so sure this was the best course of action. It was ruthless, vicious. It was…inhumane.
After pacing for a while, Flynn paused in front of the Admiral Walker. Looking up at him, he pursed his lips and mustered the necessary courage to continue.
“Do you know Armada Intelligence reports that this planet we’re going to hit, this Sonali planet in the Beta Hydra III quadrant, is one of the most populated and densest planets belonging to the Sonali people in this sector?”
Admiral Walker looked at him as if he couldn’t understand what he was saying. But Flynn knew he did.
“Those ships will hit that planet, Flynn. This final attack will happen.”
He stressed his voice and cocked an eyebrow when he said ‘will’.
“There are a billion people on that planet and Intelligence believes it holds a mythic status for most of the Sonali. Like if someone came and destroyed Earth,” said Flynn to him.
Walker stared at him, and Flynn felt like a child in a class
“Did you know?” pressed Flynn. “Did you get the report?”
Of course, he knew. Walker read the report long before Armada Intelligence sent his way. Flynn wondered why they sent it.
To guilt trip me? To what end?
Or maybe someone there felt guilty, and tried their possible best to stave off genocide. Maybe they believed that there was still someone in the Armada’s upper echelon with a heart. Someone whose conscience hadn’t been seared by the hot iron of war.
Admiral Walker sighed and closed his eyes.
“Yes, Flynn. I read the report. I read it five months ago. In fact, that’s the report that shaped this offensive. Why?”
He opened his eyes and Flynn saw his weary look. Walker expected his protest, so he just went ahead and gave it to him.
“I have my misgivings, Walker,” said Flynn, matter-of-factly. “A lot of people have been talking. A lot of our admirals, too.”
“They can talk all they want,” Admiral Walker replied. “They can debate all they want. This attack will happen. We are far down the line to begin to second guess our decisions.”
“I know, I know, but don’t you empathize with their misgivings?” he asked. “It doesn’t matter if these guys are humans or not. There are laws in war. There are certain things that are just inhumane and shouldn’t be tolerated during war.”
“These laws are the reason why four billion people are dead!” Admiral Walker snapped and right then and there Flynn heard the voice and anguish of all the death the war had caused. Walker was standing now and bristling with unbridled rage.
Flynn was rooted in the ground; he didn’t even dare move or speak—not while Walker was this riled up. Still, Flynn stared him down and refused to back down.
There’s enough white in my hair to give me that right.
Still maintaining his scowl and hardline voice, he spoke:
“Four billion people are dead because of laws, Flynn! Do you think a bureaucrat in New Washington or Earth knows how to win a war? They tell us what to do, and what not to do. Meanwhile, people are dying.”
With that, the Admiral ran one hand through his thinning hair and looked at him with a tired expression.
“I don’t need my point Admiral having second thoughts, going soft on me, and giving himself to the prejudices of what is right and proper.”
Admiral Walker sighed and sat back down.
Flynn continued to pace, his heart beating faster.
He was angry now. Angry at Admiral Walker. Angry at the Wolf Offensive. Angry at himself for committing and supporting such an act. And yet, he was also angry at himself for having second thoughts.
He heard Walker’s exhalation before he heard his voice:
“Well, Flynn, it really doesn’t matter what misgivings you or any other person within the Armada or the Union think. We’re at the point of no return…You are at the point of no return. You’re under obligation to see this mission through, after which I can take point if you wish. Just let me know.”
That did it for Flynn. He stopped pacing and stood at attention before the Admiral.
“How can you even say that, sir?” asked Flynn. “The Armada is my life. How can I trade up my life?” Flynn continued. “I have no problem with my current orders. I’ll carry them out to the letter.”
“Good. For a moment there you had me worried. Look,” Admiral Walker replied. “There are many who can sit in a room and begin to pick our decisions apart. I find that these office types are the ones who end up costing us more in war. When they’re exposed to the horrors of war, when they’ve lost captains, friends, confidants, family…that’s when they realize that, when it comes to protecting all that you love and care for, boundaries must be crossed.”
Flynn found that he had been holding his breath. He let it out slowly.
“So, you agree we’re crossing a boundary?”
He made a face.
“Are you serious, Flynn? What do you think I am, a mindless beast? Of course. But make no mistake. This isn’t just a war for territory or dominance. This is a war for survival. We’re fighting for more than just the Union…we’re fighting for the human race. And I’ll be damned if I don’t cross every single line in the sand to see to it that we survive.”
“Get your mind and heart right, Flynn,” Walker continued. “Your captains don’t need you giving voice to all that tension.”
“Yes, sir.”
He gave Flynn a final nod.
“Walker out,” he muttered, more to himself than to Flynn, and then vanished from his office.
Admiral Flynn exhaled aloud.
He had his orders, and they had to be carried out. And that was the end of it.
And still…
Chapter 8
Jeryl
Jeryl was in the Captain’s Office, looking at the ceiling. He felt the steady hum of the FTL drive, a constant presence whenever it was engaged.
Most of the repairs on the ship had been done. All systems were nominal. All weapons were ready. All officers were ready to engage. This was as ready as they would ever be. Hell, he didn’t think he would ever be this ready for a battle, even counting those five years of war.
Yet, the closer they got to The Mariner Nebula, the closer they got to annihilating the Sonali planet…and the more restless Jeryl felt.
I better get it together, he thought. We have barely a day left.
Jeryl hadn’t spoken about it to anybody. Well, that wasn’t exactly true; he had once gone to the sick bay to see his chief medical officer, Dr. Mahesh Rigsang. He suspected he was having a heart problem of some sort. Perhaps he had ruptured a vein or something.
After a thorough check, the CMO cleared him and told him he was perfectly healthy. He gave him some sleeping pills and told him to rest.
He was just stressed, the CMO said. Jeryl thought he was putting it lightly.
He took the pills, but still no respite.
This went way beyond stress; he was just afraid to admit it.
A little crack. This was what the enemy needed to win the war. Just a tiny little crack. He couldn’t allow for any cracks. He couldn’t second-guess himself. He couldn’t give in to doubt, even though it might wrap itself around his heart, squeezing it tight.
I can’t give in.
I won’t give in
He shut his eyes for a moment, allowing the darkness to swallow him whole.
There were a lot of people on this ship (not to mention all the others joining them at The Mariner Nebula), and they were all depending on him.
Shouldn’t that be the exact reason to allow doubt in? A small voice in the back of his head whispered.
He grit his teeth and, before he knew what he was doing, he had balled both hands into fists.
As a captain, he couldn’t stand the thought of making a mistake that would cost the lives of his crew. And it was that same thought that weighed him down—what if I made a mistake that didn’t cost him his crew, but cost the lives of…billions?
Maybe he could have prevented all this.
But then, he asked himself—would any other Captain handled things differently? If The Seeker hadn’t been the one assigned to that mission, would things have gone the way they did? Sometimes, he thought it all would’ve happened anyway, regardless of the mission assignment. But for others…
He had survived this long because of Ashley. She was the anchor that held him down; she was what kept him down. She was the reason he kept fighting. She was the light in the darkness. Whenever these doubts weighed him down, she was the one he turned to.
But he couldn’t stop his mind from spinning endlessly. Never. And he had tried.
What if he had been better prepared when he met the Sonali for the first time? He was ill prepared for it; he had always disregarded the possibility of alien life in the universe.
How about now? He asked himself. Now you are racing towards the Sonali to deal out a fatal blow to their species. Now you know ahead of time. There’s no excuse.
Realization hit him. Whatever actions he took, whatever happened here on out, he was fully responsible. There would be no excuses. History would judge him brutally. And with this realization came a tidal wave of fear crashing down on him.
Captain Jeryl leaped out of his chair. He needed to talk to someone. There was only one person he could think of and she was off duty.
“Contact Commander Gavin,” he said, activating the ship’s AI.
“Ashley here,” her voice filled his office, and he found himself sighing with relief. For a moment, the darkness of fear receded.
“Ash, where are you?” he asked her.
There was a pause. He never called her Ash except when they were alone. He did it now because he wanted her to know that he wasn’t looking for the First Officer. He was looking for his wife.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Do you want an honest answer?”
“Yeah.”
“No, everything’s not alright,” said Jeryl.
“I’m in our quarters.”
“I’ll be there in two.”
He cut the line and headed out of his quarters. He ordered his security detail to remain on the CNC, and even though they didn’t seem happy about it, they had no other choice but to do it. Jeryl was fully aware he was flagrantly disobeying Armada regulations, but so what? He wanted a moment of privacy with Ashley.
When he arrived to their quarters, he found her lying down on the bed. She sat up as he walked in.
He motioned for her to remain in bed, locking the door behind him. He slipped into the bed beside her, and she instinctively rested her head on his chest. It felt electric, being this close to her.
“Lights off,” he said, plunging the quarters into the state it had been when he walked in.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him after a moment of silence. Her soft voice woke him up as he realized he must have fallen asleep.
He checked for the struggle in his heart. It was still there, but now it seemed almost…insignificant. The fire blazing inside him for Ashley simply overpowered everything else. She had never been able to describe what he felt for her. He wasn’t a man of words, after all. But every cell in his being knew the truth: he loved her.
He really did.
“Remember how you’ve been having doubts about our commands?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she said, her voice setting off a vibration in his chest. During all their officer’s meetings, Ashley never ceased to vocalize her misgivings about the current path that the Terran Union was following. Nevertheless, she was always quick to ensure that the mission was a success—her commitment never required a question mark.
“I think you may be right.”
He felt Ashley rolled over until she had her arms folded on his chest, her head facing Jeryl’s. He couldn’t see her, but he felt her looking at him.
“You’re kidding, right?” she asked.
“No. This mission doesn’t sit well with me,” he said. “I’m telling you this not as your captain now… but as your husband. This doesn’t feel right.”
She sighed and reverted back to her previous position, her head on his chest. Telling her he was afraid relieved some of the tension in his heart.
“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about our mission,” she said.
“The Wolf Offensive. Before the war, people can say all sorts of things about the morality of what we do or don’t do. But right after the war, none of that seems to matter. Only the results. Say we win this. Nobody is going to realize that we may have contributed to wiping out an entire intelligent space faring species. All they will think about is that we won, and that we’re free. What is this war turning us into, Jeryl?”
He remained silent. He knew it wasn’t a rhetorical question, but that wasn’t why he was hesitating. He didn’t answer because he didn’t know how to answer.
“To think that all this started because of the destruction of The Mariner,” he said.
“We have looked through the records. We have read the transcripts of their communication with Edoris Station. From all the evidence we’ve been able to compile, there’s nothing that suggests that the Sonali were responsible for their destruction. It seems that they were being sincere, though rudely, when they told us it was their sector and that they didn’t know what had happened to The Mariner.”
“You’re saying that this entire war was based on an assumption that may have been false?” she asks, incredulity filtering into her voice.
“I don’t know what I’m saying,” he replied to her. “I don’t know, Ash. No matter what the case is, one thing is certain. We’re fucked.”
In tandem, as though their hearts beat as one, they drew in a deep breath and let it out softly out into the air. He shoved all the thoughts into the back of his mind and let himself relax in the comfort of nearness to his wife.
We’re fucked, yes, thought Jeryl. But at least we’re not alone.
Chapter 9
Ashley
It was 0800 hrs. Ashley met the tactical station on board The Seeker in CNC trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. The fleet went toward its end goal today. And somehow, it seemed like a bad omen to go into combat without her morning cup of coffee.
Ashley scanned the readouts of the fleet that was forming in the system with the ships coming in and meeting at the rendezvous point roughly half a light year away from the station. She double and triple checked the readouts from engineering to make sure their FTL drives were fully aligned.
She checked the manifest in sick bay to ensure that everything the doctor requested had transferred over. She checked her weapons complement to see if the upgrades went through. They had.
She even checked the energy banks that power the molecular resequensor. Not because she thought that they were going to want to have a meal in the middle of combat, but just because she didn’t know what else to check.
She had checked everything. The flurry of activity over the last 12 hours had been frantic. Everyone knew this was the Wolf Offensive. The single most important engagement to date in this war. An offensive that she could not find herself agreeing with, but one that she knew was necessary if they were to have a fighting chance to survive as a species.
“Everything okay?”
A voice asked and Ashley turned to see Jeryl standing next to her. She didn’t even realize he came by her side until he said something. She must had been engrossed in her readouts more than she realized.
“I’m fine, Captain,” said Ashley. “All systems appear to be in working order, the upgrades have gone through, weapons are online, FTL drives are working, sick bay is fully stocked with anything that we could ever need, and if you want you can even go get a cup of coffee and not tax the energy banks.“
“Well, it’s nice to know that I can get a cup of joe and then go kill one billion Sonali,” the Captain said with an air of morbid resignation mixed with a humor that was born out of hopelessness.
“We don’t have to go kill one billion Sonali,” she said. “There are other ways around how we can go about achieving victory. We’ve been pushing back on Sonali lines the last two months. It’s not inconceivable that we could target some of their main command-and-control stations. Push them back into their planetary bases. Take out their shipping lines. Create a war of attrition.”
She looked to the captain and saw him staring at her. He knew what she was saying was correct and he knew that what she was proposing would be a much longer, much costlier, much more brutal war. He knew this plan would never pass muster.
The Terran Union was never prepared for conflict. They went into it full of bluster. They didn’t analyze the consequences of prolonged years of warfare on their population.
Their democratic institutions would begin to crumble if they didn’t end this war. They’d need strong leadership—much stronger than what they had now. He was talking autocratic leaders who consolidate all the power among a few people. They’d need to direct fleets, move massive groups of men and material, dictate that the individual—all 44 billion within the Terran Union—dedicated their lives to the state.
They had seen that before in history, Ashley was sure of it. Nazi Germany. Soviet Union. The caliphate of the Middle East that arose in the mid-21st century right before the Third World War. The Asian Bloc. The Empire of Oceania. The Outer Colonies. They could go down that route, but they would had lost the war much, much before then.
The Captain knew this. He knew, Ashley knew it. He knew that they were probably 3 to 6 months away from open rebellion in the core worlds of the Union. They both realized that they were perhaps a year away from a breakdown in government where Earth wouldn’t be able to maintain clear lines of control and communication with the Armada.
And they both know that if they kept facing defeat or even stalemate, the situation would eventually wear down on them until there would be a collapse from the inside. And they would leave the Sonali to mop them up as they progressed further and further toward the cradle of humanity.
“This is the only way, Ash,” Jeryl said. “We gonna have a problem carrying out your mission?”
“I know my mission,” said Ashley.” You will have no problems from me, sir.”
“Good,” he said.
She sighed. What happened to the man who expressed his doubts and his fears about this mission just a few hours ago? She knew he was most probably burying that side of him right now. He couldn’t let it show. Not for her, not for anyone. He needed to present the picture of a leader in charge—a commander of the Terran Armada.
Any doubts, any misgivings, any sort of second thoughts would be detrimental to the morale of the crew. Once they knew what they were about to do they needed to see a strong and confident leader who was willing to go in and make the hard decisions and carry out the final orders.
And a billion Sonali lives would be the price that needed to be paid because of that composure.
“There’s something you should know about the ship and its upgrades,” said Ashley, trying to change her mood. “Our weapons have been upgraded, but our shielding has been upgraded with the latest technology that the Armada is putting into new starships. We’re able to last in a firefight much longer and that may come in handy if we need to be the ones to start the orbital bombardment of the Beta Hydra III planet. Preliminary readouts tell me that our weapons damage effectiveness have been increased by nearly 75%. Our shielding has been increased by close to 150%.”
“That’s impressive,” he told him raising his eyebrows. “How did we get such numbers?”
“Apparently, we’ve been busier than I thought capturing downed Sonali starships,” she said with a smile. “War may be the mother of all invention but you can never beat good old-fashioned stealing.”
She tried to give him a smile to cut the overhanging tension in the air caused by the mission. If she could lighten the mood for just one moment, distract him from his thoughts for just a second, it could mean the difference between life and death when they go into battle.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you by the way,” he said as he turned to face CNC from his tactical consul.
“Can you get me all of the data and telemetry that we collected from the debris of The Mariner?” Jeryl asked.
“Sure,” said Ashley. “You can have that in the next few minutes.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I also need all of the data that we have on that nebula, any sort of data that was sent back by The Mariner, and all data from first contact as well as any active and passive scans that the ship was running at that time.”
She nodded and started to input the commands that would get all of the information to the captain. She knew that any Armada starship normally ran passive scans in the background of the surrounding space. This was standard operating procedure. It allowed some of the routine scanning that needed to be done in order for course corrections and any sort of star charting for the navigator to engage in to be done without having to go through any sort of CNC officer approving and keeping track of it. The scans themselves were very low energy and not an intense power drain on the ship's energy sources so they ran continuously—even while in space dock.
“With that kind of data it’ll take at least 20 minutes to get it all compiled,” Ashley said. “You want it routed to your tablet?”
“No,” he said. “Send it to my workstation in my office. I plan to do some reading about the circumstances that started this conflict. We have at least a few more hours until we get to the nebula. I might as well start going through that information.”
Ashley’s ears perked up and her sixth sense started tingling.
“Jeryl,” she said slowly keeping her voice low. “What’s going on?”
Jeryl shrugged and looked away. It was like he was thinking of what to say.
“I’m not sure yet,” he said his voice lowering even more so that no one in CNC could hear them.
“But it’s something that’s been at the back of my head and I need to go over it. Something I thought of last night. Somethings not right about this. Something wasn’t right from the very single day that we met the Sonali. And if we have this time I’m going to actually finally use it after all these years to try and see what it could be.”
Ashley smiled and nodded. “You’ll have it shortly.”
Jeryl nodded and thanked her before turning and walking into his office.
She knew he was waiting for that report.
She knew there was something in it that he thought could help.
She smiled, because now, finally, she recognized the man again from last night. The man she married.
Chapter 10
Jeryl
The last update Jeryl received from the CNC told him they were a few hours away from the rendezvous in The Mariner Nebula. As the time approached, he felt more and more conflicted. He was haunted by the terror he was about to unleash upon a people whose only wrong may have been to meet them. He couldn’t help but wonder if this war was a huge mistake.
He knew that, as an officer, he had to ensure that all orders given were moral and appropriate based on the information he had at his disposal. But there was some level of fear that went with reviewing past orders, especially those that led to catastrophic ramifications.
Not to mention that this war had started because of him.
What if he was wrong? What would that mean for him? All the lives that had been lost, all the worlds that had been wiped out, they would all be on him. What would the Armada do to him? Would they court-martial him? Would they execute him?
If he found out the truth and sent a slipstream message back to Admiral Flynn, telling him that this war was nothing but a huge mistake and that the Sonali didn’t down The Mariner, what would Flynn think of him? What would the crew think of him?
Thankfully, most of the old crew remained with The Seeker. All the CNC crew were with him when it first happened. They had a lot more understanding of the context surrounding this war than most did. They would understand. At least, Jeryl thought so.
He exhaled softly. He had to decide on a course of action.
He began to consider the other side of the equation. Say the Sonali were innocent, that they didn’t destroy The Mariner…would they be innocent of all the lives that had been lost? But if they were innocent of the crimes the humans leveled against them, why did they respond with such an aggressive show of force?
For a time, during the beginning of the war, they were more interested in surviving than in winning. They were focused on living through to the next day and defending their planets than in destroying Sonali dreadnaughts. It took several ships, a miracle, sheer force of will, and stunning ingenuity to bring down a Sonali Cruiser. And then there were more.
Now, the odds had been leveled. They were no longer retreating and trying to survive; they were counterattacking. They were pushing the bastards back.
So, what the hell happens next if they weren’t the cause of the war? They sure as hell had sustained it. They could have retaliated and let it be. But no, they had to invade their systems. They had to wipe out their deep space stations. They had to destroy their planets, even those that weren’t defended. Jeryl himself might not be innocent, but the Sonali must share the blame.
He sat back on his chair and suddenly realized what sustained this war for so long: it really wasn’t The Mariner.
In fact, no one spoke about The Mariner any more. They spoke about the destruction of their bases. They spoke about the pillaging of their worlds. They spoke about the death and destruction the Sonali had left in their wake. They spoke of how close humanity came to be terminated.
We may have falsely started this war, thought Jeryl. But the Sonali are as much responsible for its prognosis as we are.
Now that he was facing possible genocide, he had a decision to make. The Sonali had never demonstrated the kind of restraint he was feeling. They had been careless in attacking defenseless planets. Once, they had leveled a planet with more than five hundred million inhabitants.
That planet was far removed from the front lines and didn’t have any defenses. This was two years ago. They had punched through their lines in the Eridan Sector. Came as close to the Core Worlds as they ever came before.
Jeryl knew he shouldn’t even be considering mercy with the Sonali, yet here he was.
Well, I guess I’m only human.
He smiled as he arrived at this stunning revelation. This was what differentiated them from the Sonali.
We’re merciful, they aren’t. We’re kind, they aren’t. We’re reasonable, they aren’t.
But it wasn’t as simple as that, was it? Were these descriptive terms universal or was he just trying to understand the Sonali, another intelligent species, through the lens of human experience? What would Professor Guss have said?
Having fought the Sonali, he decided that much of what his professor taught was bullshit philosophy. When push came to shove, the Sonali was just another human foe they had to defeat.
“Pull up file FC 001,” he said into the air.
“Access denied,” the computer said. “File is classified.”
“Override authorization code AGZ121,” he said,
“Checking,” came the computer reply. A moment later, “Access granted.”
Then, a holoscreen appeared over his table at a good distance from him. It was a voice recording of his experience with the Sonali ship five years ago. It was recorded at the Edoris Station, a meeting of the entire leadership of the Armada, immediately after his contact with the Sonali. The results of the meeting were classified, including all recordings and notes made, but he was one of the participants in that meeting, and he had access to it.
“Play,” he said and the recording starts. Closing his eyes and listening to himself five years ago, self-recounting the experience with the Sonali, he began to relish every moment.
The back and forth with the ship’s head. The messages buried beneath messages. The clicking and popping sound of the Sonali. The blue humanoid creature that sometimes tortured his sleep. The accusation he leveled against them for The Mariner. The aggressive response he got … and a request to come on a diplomatic mission to their home planet, veiled by a threat to use force on them.
They never admitted to destroying The Mariner. But why not? If they did it, why not admit it?
Jeryl remembered The Seeker’s original purpose: to find out what had happened to The Mariner. Why did he never accomplish that? It might not be enough to reverse all the damage this war had caused, but it might suffice to stop the Wolf Offensive and preserve what humanity they still had left in them.
He picked up his tablet from his table and call up his report from that day. He checked their current bearings to see if they could make a detour. He saw that they could.
He walked into the CNC, head held high.
“Captain on deck!” roared the security personnel.
“At ease,” he said, noticing as some of his officers become tense. Jeryl took his seat. He could feel Ashley’s eyes boring holes into the side of his right temple. He shared his deepest and darkest thoughts with her. She knew that he had been struggling with their orders. He just hope she didn’t feel like she had to oppose him when he decided on what to do next.
“Lieutenant Eilean,” he said, “give me an update.”
“We are approaching the rendezvous point, sir,” she replied.
“Okay,” he said. He felt the tension in the bones of his fingers as he tightened them around the edge of his seat. Whatever decision he made from there on out, he would need the full cooperation of his crew.
“Prepare to make a course correction, First Lieutenant.”
He watched her carefully as she scanned the readout on her workstation, before scanning the information on the view screen. He knew she was looking for reasons for a course correction. When she was certain there was no need for a correction, she looked at Jeryl.
“What correction, sir?”
He grabbed his tablet from his side and tapped a button.
“Sending you the coordinates.”
She returned her attention to her workstation as the coordinate slid into her view. She pulled up the map of the quadrant, placing the coordinate Jeryl had sent her, their present location, and where they ought to be. She put the information on the screen so that everyone could see it.
“Captain, that’s way off course,” she replied. Then she looked at him. “I don’t understand.”
That was when Ashley joined in. “Captain, why do you want us to go there?”
He raised his voice for two reasons: one, for everyone in the CNC to hear him. Two, he wanted them to understand this decision was not up for debate.
“Many of you know that this area is where it all began. This is where The Mariner went missing, and where it was destroyed. This is also where we, five years ago, made First Contact with another species. Well, the coordinate you see on the screen is where our trail five years ago ended, when we were intercepted by the first Sonali ship.”
Ashley was by her side now. She was looking at his tablet, so he twisted his wrist so she could get a better look.
“But why go there?” she asked him in a whisper.
Everyone’s attention was still focused on Jeryl, but he addressed his First Officer alone.
“Because everything we need to know about this damn war is right there. Let’s know for sure what happened to The Mariner before we commit a terrible mistake.”
Chapter 11
Ashley
Ashley knew she should be happy and excited.
After all, throughout their flight to this quadrant, she had campaigned against the brutality of the Wolf Offensive. Right now, though, she was neither happy nor excited. If anything, she was exhausted.
She nodded her acquiescence to the Captain and returned to her station. She made it like she was okay with his decision, though she still felt a bit hurt; hurt because his decision came as a shock to her. He had told her how he felt about the Wolf Offensive, agreeing with her in the confines of our quarters. Now, he was going ahead to effect a change to their flight plan based on what? She wondered what made him change his mind so fast.
“We need to find out the truth,” he said out loud. “Not our truth. Not something we assumed to be true. We need to find out the truth.”
Oddly, everyone nodded their head in agreement. Some even muttered their agreement. Ashley snatched a glance at him to find that he was looking at her. She returned her gaze to her console and remained passive. She could feel him looking at her. In fact, she could almost hear him asking her what the problem was.
“Course plotted and ready to execute, sir,” the navigator officer said.
“Go ahead, Eilean. Take us there.”
There was a sharp whine as the Battle Cruise began to change course at FTL factor four. Before long, they were on course to the coordinates the captain had shared. Ashley began to wonder what awaited them out there.
She began to feel her unease subside—but not because she was finally going to know the truth. It subsided because another emotion rose in her mind.
Fear.
What were they going to find there? Most people were afraid of their past, and Ashley was no different. She was about to face it head-on, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it. What if they found out that the Sonali hadn’t destroyed The Mariner?
What would they do then?
Her console notified her that a course correction had been completed, and that this had affected their mission profile. The system began to re-ration supplies, food, and fuel. There was a form that popped up and asked for her to input the new mission parameters so the system could complete its recalculation. She tapped emergency and then put in one hour as the duration of the new mission. Then she notified the system that after the mission, they would be retuning back on course. When she was done, it began recalculating rations.
“What’s the matter?” Ashley heard a voice say behind her. She almost jumped out of her skin, though the most she did was grab her console a little too tighter. Jeryl was close to her now, closer than what people would accept as appropriate. She knew she should enjoy it, but she as too tense for that. Rather, she felt a little irritated, especially after his rash decision. He could had just told her.
“Nothing,” she said, keeping her eyes focused on the rationing.
“I thought this is what you wanted?” he asked again.
Ashley looked around for a moment to see if they were being watched. No one was looking in their direction so she replied.
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you look happy?” he said.
“Did you do it for me?” she shot back, a little too sharp. She upbraided herself and told herself to remember that he was her captain now.
He didn’t seem to take offense. She doubted he noticed the acrimony in her voice.
“No. But this is what you’ve been pushing for.”
She heaved an impatient sigh and turned to look him in his eyes. She saw that he sincerely wanted to know what was wrong. This made her bite back on the sharp rebuke she was about to shoot his way. Overwhelmed with compassion, she couldn’t help closing her eyes. She didn’t want the crew to see her and the Captain have a moment. But even if they did, what did it matter anymore?
After everything they had done, what did anything matter anymore?
After all the blood on their hands…nothing should shock them anymore.
“It’s not because of what you and I have talked about,” she said in a tone so low that Jeryl craned his neck to hear. “It’s just…because I had to find out on the CNC. Like any other person.”
She saw his eyes widen. Then he frowned. His frown was only fleeting, and then it dissolved. Right now, she was seeing her husband, not her Captain.
“I’m sorry, Ash. If it’s any consolation, I only found out that this would be our course of action a few minutes ago.”
She nodded, but she was not satisfied. Noticing, he came even closer and put his hand on her waist. Shocked, she jerked away. She looked at him aghast.
He smiled.
“Captain, we’re getting multiple hails from the ships heading to the rendezvous point,” Mary Taylor called from her workstation. This broke the little impasse between her and Jeryl. He wore his Captain face before returning to his seat.
“What do they want?” Captain Jeryl Montgomery asked.
The husband was buried. The lover was gone.
The communications officer turned around in her swivel seat and looked at the captain’s direction. “They want to know why we’ve changed direction.”
“We need to be sure there’s still something in the coordinates before we tell them anything, sir,” Ashley said.
He agreed with her. He told the communications officer to stand by and then went over to Dr. Lannigan’s station.
He stood beside the man and said, “I want you to run a scan of the area we are headed to. I want you to see if you can still detect the debris from The Mariner. I know it has been five years…”
“Sir, that’s a significant amount of time,” the science officer replied. “It’s highly doubtful that we would detect—”
“Run multiple scans across all spectrums,” the captain persisted, cutting him short.
“Sir, even if we can detect it,” the science officer said, “there’s still the issue of motion.”
“Explain.”
The science officer gesticulated as he explained. “Sir, space isn’t static. It’s in a constant state of motion because of gravity. Now, this debris has been in motion due to the gravitational pull of the nearby star for five years. I can assure you that it’s not in the coordinates you’ve supplied. If we scanned the place, we are likely going to come up with false or misleading data.”
“Plus, there’s the problem of degradation. The debris would have undergone a massive amount of degradation over these five years. Even if we located the debris, and we won’t, at least not in the current coordinates, it may not offer the solution we seek.”
Ashley cringed internally at the officer’s effrontery. She was about to reprimand him before the captain did something worse like relieve him of duty, but he beat her to it.
“I understand all you’ve explained,” Jeryl said to the science officer. “Proceed with the scans.”
“Docherty, proceed along the current course,” the Captain vocalized above Dr. Lannigan’s protest. The Junior Science Officer looked at the navigator and then nodded his assent. “That’s where The Mariner once was. We’re going to follow it this time until the end. No Sonali ship will stop us.”
There was finality to his voice.
She wondered what had gotten into him. There was a whole new different vibe on him. He returned to his seat, where his tablet was, and picked up the device. He muttered to himself as he put in data into it.
He walked over to Docherty.
“Can we create a flight path that mimics the movement of The Mariner’s debris movement under the gravity in the area? Something that would show me where The Mariner would be at this time if it maintained its heading without interference? “
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “But it’s going to take some time.”
“Do it,” he said.
“Sir, we have one priority message from the senior captain on site at the rendezvous,” said the communications officer.
Jeryl returned to his seat.
“On screen.”
A section of the view screen metamorphosed into a view of a CNC roughly the same size as theirs. Standing in an empty captain seat was a bulky man in his mid-forties with a clean-shaven head and a mean expression.
“Captain Soduku,” Jeryl said, his voice tight and commanding.
“Sir, are you okay?” the man said, his tone completely devoid of any sympathy.
“We noticed a course deviation that takes you away from the rendezvous. Is your navigations AI acting up? Do you require assistance?”
“No, Captain,” Jeryl replied. “Everything’s fine. We are following up on a new lead. Please stand by.”
Then the visual feeds ended.
“They will ask questions,” Ashley said out loud. “It won’t be long before we start getting slipstream hails from Armada Command.”
“Let them call,” he replied, as much for the benefit of the CNC crew as it was for her. “We’re not going anywhere until The Seeker accomplishes its original mission. We’re going to find out what happened to The Mariner.”
She heard the unspoken words that only she could tell because he was her husband.
If we have to die trying, he was going to say.
Well, Ashley thought, I suppose today is as good a day as any.
Chapter 12
Jeryl
I may sound calm and collected. I may look cool. Don’t be deceived, Jeryl told an imaginary audience in his head.
The difference between what I feel and what my face shows is like the difference between night and day. Sometimes I have to force myself to breathe because the tension shooting through my veins has me distracted from it. There’s fear, too—the kind of fear that might turn into terror.
But I have to remain strong and clear if we’re going to make it through.
Jeryl knew Ashley never agreed to this. But right now his wife’s opinion didn’t matter. The only person’s opinion he was willing to consider was his First Officer’s. He needed her speaking to him as a Commander in the Armada, and not as the wife of a Captain.
He looked around to see if he was being observed by any of the crewmates. No one was watching him except, of course, the three security officers on the CNC.
“Helm,” he said from his seat. “Show us the deviation in our course from that of the Fleet. Put it on visual.”
The image came up and Jeryl looked up at it. A transparent map of the sector superimposed the view of the energy shield around the ship. There were three headings represented by short dashes; one is their previous heading, which entered the nebula from the lower left and maintained a straight bearing to the upper left portion. Twenty-one dots represented the ship’s predetermined course and rendezvous location.
He saw another bearing veering off from a certain point along the original bearing to the right. It terminated in a single dot, which appeared to be in the right central portion of the map. Then he saw a proposed bearing from where they were along the second bearing. This proposed bearing veered a little back to the left, and terminated at the right corner of the map. It was in the total opposite direction of where the fleet was headed to for the mission.
Jeryl realized with a fresh onslaught of nerve-wracking terror that if he pursued the course he lay down for the ship, they were going to be travelling away from the fleet. If they ran into trouble, there would be no help or backup. And even if they were able to call for help, it would take the Armada too long a time to arrive, and by which time they would long be dead—killed by the same thing that decimated The Mariner.
“Sir, you do realize that the course will take us away from the fleet?” Ashley said from her console. “It will put is in the direct opposite direction of the fleet, plus out of its range should anything go wrong.”
“I realize that,” he said. He glanced at the navigator who, all the while, had been looking at him. “Set the course as amended and take us to that coordinate.”
Without giving a fuss, he nodded and returned his attention to his station. He issued the necessary commands to his system, and there was a sharp whine as the Battle Cruise began to change course. He got a call from engineering.
“Hi, Robert,” he said in his friendliest voice.
“What the hell is going on up there, Jeryl?” the chief engineer said. Aside from Ashley, he was the only one crazy enough to call him by his first name.
“Sorry, we have to make a course correction,” the Captain said, sympathetic.
“Well, when you boggarts decide to make a course change during FTL space, do remember to inform engineering. You just might destroy our FTL drive in the process and leave us a drifting mass in space.”
He allowed a strained smile on his face, even though this was only an audio communication. “Roger that, Robert.”
“Robert, out.”
“Status update,” he said, when he realizes the ship’s whine was over.
“Course adjusted, sir,” the navigator said. “We are en route to the estimated position of the debris of The Mariner based on the gravitation pull of the nearest star and the reduction in mass due to degradation.”
“Very good,” Jeryl replied. “Dr. Lannigan, keep your eyes on the sensors. I want you scanning that area with all you’ve got.” He knew the man was about to protest, so he continued, “I know you don’t agree with this course of action. Your disagreement has been noted and will be inputted in the logs for this mission. But damn it—just do as I say. Inform me if you see anything unusual.”
“Aye, Captain,” he replied.
“Captain?” said Henry, another CNC officer monitoring navigations.
“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” Jeryl said.
“I just wanted to let you know that Dr. Lannigan provided me with the equation to account for change in gravitational pull as a result of reduction in mass.”
“Oh?” he replied. “How is that significant?”
“Mass determine gravitation pull, sir,” the navigator replied. “The heavier an object, the more force gravity exerts on it. Also, the lighter an object it, the lesser the force gravity exerts on it. Now, The Mariner debris has experienced severe atrophy over the course of five years. With this, the gravitation pull has constantly reduced, and with this its velocity.”
“I see,” he replied. “Without accounting for mass degradation, you most likely would have ended up with a wrong coordinate?”
He nodded. “But I couldn’t have come up with it without Taft.”
“Good job, guys,” said Jeryl.
“Captain,” the communications officer called. “I’m receiving priority one slipstream alert from Armada Command. They have been informed that we’re proceeding and not deviating from our alternate course and that we have had a sudden change in course. They request to be advised of our situation.”
“Noted,” Jeryl said.
There was a tense silence.
“What reply should I send, Captain?”
“Ignore the message,” he said, to the collective shock of the entire CNC crew. He noticed that only the security personnel didn’t show any outward response to what he just said. He wondered if they’d shoot him if he revolted against the Terran Armada. He didn’t think there was a policy for that one just yet.
“Sir, I have some information for you,” the tactical officer pronounced. This got his attention.
Jeryl turned in his seat to face the officer. “Go ahead, lieutenant.”
“This current course is going to affect our battle readiness on all fronts, sir, based on my projection.”
“Uh-huh,” he muttered. “How so?”
“First, we are entering the nebula at this point. This means our communications capability will be severely hampered. Also, the radiation from the stars will affect our defensive screens. We will be losing some of our ability to defend ourselves in the case of an attack.”
“Noted, Lieutenant,” the Captain replied before turning to the navigator. “Is there any way we can amend our course to reduce some of these effects and still arrive at our destination?”
He shook his head. “Negative, sir. This is the best laid-out course that takes us to the position of The Mariner.”
“Okay. Proceed, then,” he said.
In his periphery, he saw Ashley walked toward him.
“Captain, can I have a word with you in private?” she asked, her words just a whisper.
“Alright,” he said. “My office.”
Without replying to him, she turned and left.
He made his way into his office, his heart beating like a war drum.
Ashley was already talking the moment Jeryl walked in.
“Sir, I get what you’re trying to do. But you need to step back and think for a moment. Is this really the right course of action? Look, I’m on your side. Never doubt that for a moment. All I’m trying to do is to keep you from making an even greater mistake.”
He wiped the sweat off his brow. “Look, I have no problem with the fleet planning to destroy an entire Sonali planet. I’m willing to do whatever needs to be done…but only after I know the truth about The Mariner. I can’t let it go. As captain of this ship it’s my responsibility to exhaust all the option before committing to a very terrible act. This is simply what I’m doing.”
“Are you?” she said, questioning his resolve. “Look, sometimes in war we have to do things…” she sighed, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but it’s true. We’re an unlucky generation.”
He approached her and held her shoulders in his hands.
“I’m fine, Ash. Don’t worry about me. I want to make sure I have a solid reason to go ahead with this. Think about this for a moment. We’ve been fighting these guys for five years and never during that period have they demonstrated a capability that equals what we deduced from The Mariner’s destruction. They are, to an extent, more powerful than Terran warships, but not to the point where they can create beams as destructive as whatever obliterated The Mariner.”
Ashley wasn’t convinced. “We may have to accept it’s the Sonali in the end. You may not find what you’re looking for.”
He heaved a breath out. “It has to be someone else.”
“The fleet won’t wait for you much longer,” Ashley noted.
My commlink beeped. It was Dr. Lannigan. “Go ahead, Taft.”
“Sir, I’m picking up something.”
He turned and headed out onto the CNC, Ashley in close tow.
“Captain on deck!” came the security personnel’s voice.
Still headed toward his seat, he said, “Put it on screen.”
The screen dissolved into the image of star glittering in space—and a ship the same shape as The Mariner.
It was nothing like any Sonali ship the Terran Armada had ever seen.
Chapter 13
Ashley
“The Mariner,” said Ashley rather stupidly. There were no snide remarks in response. Jeryl, she saw, had halted dead in his tracks, staring at the image onscreen. What they were seeing simply couldn’t be real. The Mariner was reduced to floating rubble. She had seen it. Jeryl had seen it. One or two of the original crew of The Seeker who were also aboard this ship had seen it.
Jeryl shook off his astonishment and dropped into his command chair.
“What the hell is that?” he rapped out to no one and everyone. “Alert stations, everyone. Get ready to raise screens on my order. Lannigan, I want answers and I want them now.”
“Sir!” The CNC buzzed with action and muted conversation between stations as the crew start scanning the stranger with their instruments.
Jeryl sat rigid in his chair. Ashley had no part in the science section, either, but it was her job to make sure that their investigations proceeded smoothly so she was watching her instruments as the scans continued.
Preliminary data came in. What they were seeing was no ghost, of course; it was a real physical object.
But how? Where did it come from? Are the Sonali taunting us?
She scowled at the thought. No, she didn’t think so. They had been steadfast in their insistence that they had nothing to do with the original Mariner’s destruction, and she believed them.
This was someone else. And as the realization dawned on her, her skin broke out in goose bumps. Someone else had destroyed The Mariner. Someone else had been watching the humans and the Sonali slug it out over the past several years.
Who? Why?
Ashley thought they were about to find out. Data from the preliminary scans continued to come in. She was seeing an odd pattern on the atomic level that tickled her memory.
Suddenly, her station blinked a number of red lights.
“Damn,” she said. “They’re painting us with ranging lasers.”
Maybe they thought the scanning beams were hostile. But she didn’t think so. Why she didn’t think so, she couldn’t say yet.
“Screens up,” Jeryl ordered. “Helm, return the favor. Get their range.”
Without consciously thinking through her hunch, she opened a station to Jeryl’s station.
“Sir? I want to bounce a spectro laser off that thing,” she said.
“What? Don’t you think that might be construed as a hostile act? They didn’t like the scanners much.”
She ignored the sarcasm. “No. I don’t think so.”
He was silent for a moment. “What’s your game, Lieutenant?”
“Not my game, sir. Not mine at all. They aren’t going to do a thing. I’ll bet my life on it.”
“And everyone else’s aboard this ship!” He muttered something else under his breath. “All right. Go ahead.”
Her fingers rippled over her controls as she called up a micro-pulse laser shot at the bogey. This was one thing she loved about Jeryl; he listened to his officers. He didn’t argue. He trusted them. He trusted her.
It was not a marriage thing. It was a captain-and-crew thing.
Moments later, she had her answer. She blew out a lungful of air she hadn’t known she was holding. Tamping down her excitement, she called Jeryl back.
“Look at this,” she said, and then sent a section of the original scans they got from The Mariner debris years ago. “Look at the energy signature.”
“This is old news.”
He sounded disappointed. “We know that whatever weapon was used practically transmuted the wreckage into different elements. Its spectrogram changed completely.”
“Now look.”
She superimposed the data from her new spectro scans on top of the old one.
“I—” he began, and then fell silent. The laser had vaporized a miniscule portion of the stranger’s outer hull, and their instruments had examined the little cloud of gas, tasting and probing it for its constituents and their energy signatures.
This would almost certainly be taken as an attack, if the bogey were so inclined. But it didn’t return “fire.”
The spectrograms were almost identical.
There were increased bands in the silicon range, something one would never normally see in a Terran ship, but which showed up in the original wreckage. Completely nonsensical, an artifact of the massive energy beams that blasted The Mariner.
Unless it wasn’t. Unless it was something else.
“It’s a message,” she said. “This boggart is telling us something.”
“Such as?”
“Such as, it’s not a Sonali ship. It’s certainly not The Mariner, returned to life. It’s real, but it isn’t real. It’s altered matter, sir. We’re looking at an actual physical ghost you can touch, sort of like a solid hologram.”
“There’s no such thing!”
“It appears that there is. This is a technology we’ve never seen, something like our resequencers. An entire starship made of synthetic matter, constructed with the use of supercharged photons.”
Jeryl was silent. Then he opened a PA channel to the entire ship and described what she had discovered. “Get me confirmation," he said. “But no more lasers.”
She allowed herself a small smile. She didn’t think they had to worry about lasers. The bogey would have destroyed them already, had it wanted to.
Confirmation trickled in from other stations. The bogey represented a state of matter, a level of technology that they had never seen before. Whoever was responsible for it had some serious chops.
Jeryl came back online to Ashley. “Message all our ships,” he said. “Tell them we think we’ve found the party responsible for The Mariner’s destruction, and tell them to stand by while we proceed with our investigation.”
She did, and almost at once responses from the fleet came in. They all wanted to know what was happening. She answered as best she could, telling them to maintain alert while they collated information.
Minutes passed in the CNC as they attempted to figure out what they were dealing with. The bogey indeed seemed to be some sort of solid hologram. Did that mean it was masking something? Or was it a temporary construct, to be used and discarded once it fulfilled its purpose?
Jeryl had their screens raised, but they were not making any other overt acts. Their scanners had taken in as much data as they could, and the computers were chewing on it. While they did, the crew chewed on their fingernails. At least Ashley did...it was an old habit, one she thought she’d broken. Apparently not.
After half an hour or so, Jeryl had enough.
“Ashley,” he said to Ashley over a private channel, “this is getting us nowhere. Someone has to make the first move.”
“I know,” she said.
He switched to the ship-wide channel. “Comm, hail that ship.”
“Sir.”
She twined her fingers together. Her hands were sweaty.
“Response coming in, sir,” said Comm.
“On screen.”
An image swam into view on her monitor. It was... humanoid. It wasn’t Sonali. Ashley was looking at an enormous round head, with a fleshy snout fringed by short, thick finger-like things. Its skin was a deep purplish-pink in color, like a bad bruise. Above and beside the snout were two perfectly round yellow eyes with black pupils. Two pointed ears adorned the head at the same level as the being’s eyes. A bulging cranium above the snout was sprinkled with several warty bumps, beside which sat two long, jointed antennae hanging down over the face. The head sat, neckless, on a pair of broad shoulders.
A sort of green skullcap covered the head and was joined to a lighter green tunic like a uniform.
The being raised a limb, apparently in greeting. It was very long, with an elbow further along toward a forearm shorter than theirs. It had three fingers and a thumb.
Jeryl’s voice was perfectly level, and he sounded as though he met new species every day—maybe twice a day. Ho hum.
“I’m Captain Jeryl Montgomery of the Terran Hegemony starship Seeker,” he said. Ashley’s mind flashed back to their initial encounter with the Sonali. He used almost identical words to hail them.
“We are here investigating the disappearance of one of our ships. I see that you have knowledge of that craft,” he concluded, with irony in his voice.
The new fellow blinked slowly. His lids slid in and out from the side, not the top and bottom, and Ashley head a tik-tik over the speakers. He said nothing, but regarded them with an otherwise unwavering and unreadable gaze.
“This position represents our lost ship’s last known coordinates,” Jeryl went on, keeping his sangfroid. “I’d be very interested to hear what you have to say about this matter.”
Chapter 14
Jeryl
Relief.
That was what Jeryl was feeling right now. But not just that—there was also anger, and all of it was directed at the image on the screen. In there, the thing that killed everyone aboard The Mariner stared back at him.
Yes, he had been party to committing acts of war. He had been part of raids where the Union had sent ships to glass Sonali words.
Yes, the Sonali had done the same to them.
But this being in front of him, though they hadn’t said anything, were responsible for the billions of dead in the galaxy because of this pointless war.
They had managed to link their comms to the alien spaceship, but now the damn thing just stared back at him in complete silence. Jeryl thought back to the argument he had with the first Sonali captain he ever met, and he was not sure if that was going to happen in here again.
He doubted they would have that kind of time.
Everyone was probably hounding the communications officer for a piece of his time. They wanted to know exactly what it was that they found. They wanted to know whether to get over there to bombard another species. They wanted to know what to do next. Some were probably even contacting the Armada HQ to advise them on his current situation.
Despite all that, Jeryl never took his eyes off the humanoid creature on the screen. It didn’t seem to speak or engage him in any way—it just stared back at him.
He had played this game over and over again. First with the Outers during their border skirmishes before the war; then with some space pirates, who shamelessly operated even during the war (there were rumors that some pirates even sell to Sonali). Then, with the Sonali; the one he met in this region and the ones he met and destroyed following that.
I’m a seasoned poker player, he thought. I refuse to be bullied into nervousness by the power of silence. Even though time was running short, he positioned himself like he had all the time in the world. It was not like that thing knew that his time was limited.
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he said with a lot more force and vigor. “Are you responsible for the destruction of The Mariner, a Terran Armada starship that was investigating a scientific phenomenon in this quadrant five years ago?”
Right in front of their eyes, a second occupant of the vessel came into view, handing over some sort of device. It disappeared from view, allowing the crew to watch as the humanoid creature put the device over his neck like a neck brace.
The creature began to speak … in English.
“Yes. I was responsible for the destruction of the craft you speak of.”
At first, he was not sure about what he just heard. Was he admitting to understanding Jeryl’s question, or was he admitting to a crime that led them down a five-year path of blood and fire with an innocent race? He wondered if the device, which now appeared to be a translator, might be faulty.
“You look surprised?” the creature said, blinking several times in a minute.
“Did you just admit to destroying our ship?” he asked. He wasn’t about to start another war over some faulty translator.
“Yes, I destroyed the ship,” it said again.
Anger began to build inside Jeryl. “Do you understand the ramifications of that?”
“I understand. Very well,” it replied.
“State the reason or reasons for which you harmed an innocent starship,” he demanded, allowing his anger to modulate his voice. “And your reasons better be good.”
“Innocent?” the creature said. “You call them innocent? They were not innocent. They transgressed our laws and paid the ultimate price with their life.”
The creature then emitted a series of hacking laughter that carried the weight of an ominous tone.
“What laws?” he said, trying to catch up to his (if he was, in fact, a he) reasoning.
“The Terran Union or the Terran Armada wasn’t informed of any wrongdoing by either its ship or captain. Neither were we invited to any criminal proceeding that ended in a death penalty. As such, you had no right to execute them.”
Jeryl was having a hard time keeping his anger under control, and he knew it. But this had been a long time coming. All he wanted to do was send a barrage of torpedoes and lasers in the ship’s direction. He might not be able to destroy it, sure; but he could at least damage it, which would provide him with some level of satisfaction.
Before the alien replied, he glanced at the communications officer and muttered to her, “I hope this is being recorded?”
She gave him a slight nod and he returned his focus to the creature.
“We have no laws, but the laws we make for ourselves,” it said. “Your ship was found desecrating this nebula. For that crime, she was destroyed.”
A question quickly popped into his mind: How does one desecrate a nebula? He didn’t ask that question right away, though. He waited for a while, processing what the creature was telling him and deciding on his best course of action.
The Mariner was gone. Starting a war with these people wasn’t going to bring them back. Perhaps, the five-year war of attrition they waged against the Sonali had effectively bled them dry. They couldn’t afford another costly war with something as powerful as what he saw before him. He had to proceed with caution.
This wasn’t the time for torpedoes, but for diplomacy.
“We assure you, The Mariner wasn’t sent to this nebula to desecrate it. The Mariner possessed limited offensive capability, except the ones necessary to weather an asteroid belt or to destroy an obstacle in its path. The Mariner could never have posed a threat to you. I tell you, you’ve wrongfully executed judgment and killed innocent people.”
“You misunderstand me, Captain,” the creature replies. “They desecrated our nebula by trying to probe. You see, many, many millennia ago, our home world was destroyed by an alien race much more advanced than us. To survive, we migrated from that world to space.
“We moved from system to system in search of a suitable home until we came to this nebula. We have grown and thrived in the relative peace and silence of this nebula, and we have laid our claim to it. Your science vessel broke that silence by invading our territory. They were trying to learn about us. For this, they were destroyed.”
“So you destroyed our people because they were trying to learn about this nebula and about you?” he asked. He wanted to be sure they heard everything clearly and that nothing was morphed by anecdotes or emotion.
“Indeed,” the creature replied. “We wanted to protect our privacy. To guard against those who would see us destroyed again. This is my job as Viceroy, to ensure the continued survival of my species. The only way I can achieve this is by keeping our existence a secret. I could not let your ship leave this place with the knowledge of our existence. So I had to destroy it.”
Jeryl frowned. He was uncomfortable with the moral compass on this creature. How could they dole out wanton destruction on a harmless ship without scruples?
“If I heard you correctly, you said you migrated to space?” he said. “What did you mean by that? Did you build space stations?”
“No,” it replied. “We built big space ships.”
“So you live on these space ships?” he asked.
“Yes,” it said. “There are only five of these ships remaining. They are enough for us for now.”
“If you have ships, why couldn’t you people move to another nebula?” he probed further. “Why destroy our ship?”
“Because we have lived here for so long we are unwilling to move again,” it replied. “Sometimes we set up on asteroids and use our ships to keep the asteroids in place … this place. But ultimately we live in our ships and this is where our ships belong. This place is now our heritage.”
Jeryl was about to ask another question when it said, “And this brings me to what I really have to say. I will do whatever it takes to protect my people. I encountered a Captain Davan of The Mariner. I took the form of a Sonali using the same technology that allowed me to pose as your vessel. I spoke of peace and trade.
“And then I destroyed them. I hope you will understand the reason why I must destroy you also. You have found us. You know our secret. I cannot allow you to possess this knowledge and go away from you. It pains me, deeply, but I must destroy you as well. Your ship and your entire crew have to die.”
“You can’t…”
The creature vanished from the screen.
“Captain, the signal has been terminated.”
“Get him back!” he yelled, pounding his fist into my chair. His heart was racing.
I have just led my people into a death trap, he thought.
“Captain, they are not responding to our hails,” the communications officer said.
“Captain, I’m picking up a building surge of emerging in specific areas of the ship,” said the tactical officer. “This energy signature is akin to the one Dr. Lannigan defines as destructive and with the same exact electromagnetic signature found on The Mariner debris. Captain … I think they are charging their weapons.”
“Evasive maneuvers!” he yelled for the second time.
The navigator, whose hands were light on the control, threw The Seeker into a dangerous deep dive. The inertia dampers strained as it attempted to maintain gravity. Jeryl latched on to his seat. Many of the officers in the CNC were thrown away from their stations. The navigator and tactical officer, however, endured where they were, coordinating the ship’s response.
Jeryl watched as a flood of light leapt out of the alien vessel and lanced through space to where they previously occupied. Then, he felt a sharp jolt.
“We were hit, sir!” the tactical officer announced.
“Damage report,” he said.
“Minimal, sir,” Ashley replied. “Our shield surprisingly bore the brunt of the impact.”
“Sir, shields are down to seventy-five percent,” the tactical officer announced. “The ship is charging again!”
“Evade, lieutenant,” he said to the navigator. Then to the tactical officer, he said, “Get ready to fire at their stern. Photon torpedo.”
“Aye, captain,” the tactical officer said.
The next few shots missed them by a wide berth.
“Captain, I think we need to reconsider our action,” Ashley said. “These people are afraid. They are scared. They have had minimal contact with the known world, so all they know to do is destroy what comes their way.
“The Mariner didn’t have our defensive capabilities that was why it was fried. Now that we do, instead of destroying them, let’s try and reason with them. The war we have with the Sonali is one too many. Perhaps…they said they live on their ships. Who knows how many are on that ship. A billion. Two?”
It dawned on Jeryl the path they were going.
They were about to invade. Maybe they would die. Maybe they would get out in one piece. If they do, he would file a report with Armada Command, and then four hundred starships would be dispatched from Edoris Station—to take out the next enemy.
If they died, then the starship captains that were hailing them would report back.
More blood.
More war.
It had to stop somewhere. It had to stop here.
“You’re right, Commander,” he said, suddenly realizing he could just make a powerful new step for all of humanity. Even if they all die here, he couldn’t have that happen. Even if his legacy were a sham, at least he would go down knowing that he did the best he could.
“Tactical, belay last order. Switch primary weapons to particle beams and target their primary engine,” he said.
They were in the middle of a dive to port when he gave the order to fire. Bright blue bolts shot out from underneath them and hit their targets. The ship before them shuddered visibly and he saw a cascade of explosions underneath and behind the ship.
“Bring us around to face them,” he said to navigation.
“Captain, it appears your plan was unsuccessful,” Dr. Taft said. “The primary engine that feeds the propulsion and weapons is still operational. I’m detecting an incredible buildup of energy. They’re about to fire their most powerful weapon.”
Shit!
At that moment, the rest of the Armada’s fleet materialized all around their ship
“Great! The cavalry,” he said to the communications officer. “Send them a notification that the ship is armed, dangerous and aggressive. Tell them to shoot to damage not—“
At that moment, the navigator sent The Seeker into a forward spin to avoid a shot from the alien ship. His words hung in his mouth at the bold maneuver and almost sent the content of his stomach upwards.
“Sir, that blast just took out two of our ships!” said the tactical officer.
“What do you mean took out two of our ships?” he said. He looked at the view screen where he saw the two ships breaking apart in flames, bodies floating around—dead.
“Fire at will!” he yelled.
The screen lit up with blasts as The Seeker and the rest of the fleet opened up on the ship. The alien ship was able to get off another powerful blast that destroyed two more Armada ships before it was damaged.
“Give the order for the fleet to hold off their attack,” he said.
The fleet responded, holding fire. The alien ship, now incapacitated, floated adrift in the midst of the Terran Armada.
“Contact the ship,” he said to his communications officer. “Maybe now they’ll listen to what we have to say.”
The creature loomed into view. Jeryl saw fear in its eyes. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but the expression he saw was fear.
They must be thinking we’re going to destroy them, he thought to himself.
“If we continue at this rate,” he said to the creature. “You will be destroyed. And we don’t even know your name and the name of your people.”
This was it—war or words.
“My name is Commander Ullian of the Nakra,” it said.
“Look, Commander Ullian,” he began. “You’ve destroyed four of my ships. I’m obligated to destroy yours, but I’m not going to. I want to give us a chance at peace. I give you the assurance of the Terran Union, which is the government I represent, that we will not exploit your people, nor will we invade or colonize your ships or asteroids or wherever the Nakra people reside.”
“How do we know you tell the Nakra people the truth?” Commander Ulian said. “There are barely fifty thousand of us left in the universe.”
He flashed a side-glance to Ashley. So much for one billion.
“The Terran Union doesn’t do genocide,” he replied. “It’s our purpose to prevent war and stop killing—not perpetuate it.”
The Nakra Commander remained calm for a while. Jeryl watched his eyes blink more times than usual in a second, and he assumed the alien was considering his implicit proposal.
He continued. “A little over one hundred and fifty years ago, my people suffered a near extinction level event the same as yours did,” he said with a sigh.
He wiped his brows and chose his words carefully. “Only, we weren’t almost wiped out because of an alien species. We did that to ourselves.”
The Nakra Commander widened his eyes. It looked like that was the universal sign for amazement at another’s stupidity.
“We used weapons of mass destruction on our own population, and we killed two fifths of our own race,” Jeryl said and paused. “We murdered 3.2 billion of our own people on our own home world.”
“You did this to yourselves? Less than two hundred eclipses ago?” Ullian asked. “And you ask us to believe in your capacity for peace?”
Jeryl sighed. The man had a point.
“We came out to space to survive what we had done to ourselves and to rebuild,” Jery replied back. “And we promised ourselves that we would never again go down the path that we had nearly finished. We would never again commit genocide on ourselves. Or each other.”
Jeryl had patched in; he knew the other captains in the fleet could hear him.
“We’ve learned our lessons, Ullian,” he said. “Our exploration of space is my species’ rallying cry that we can do better. That we must do better. And each day is a reminder that we will never go down that path again.”
There was a long silence. Jeryl could feel the eyes of the CNC crew on him.
Sure, he might have had just gone in and psychoanalyzed the human race. But it made sense to him now. More than why the Wolf Offensive did. More than the war.
Humanity could do better. They had to do better.
“We accept your offer of peace,” the Commander said with a final tone. “Thank you.”
The creature vanished from the screen.
Well, that was easy, he thought to himself.
If the Sonali liked acting like politicians, these Nakra seemed to take things at face-value.
The Sonali, he realized. They needed stop a war before it took a dangerous turn.
“Contact all ships,” he told Taylor. “Tell them it’s over. Send over a recording of my dealings with the Nakra and let them know I’ve just brokered peace between us and them.”
Taylor nodded and set to work on that.
“How long for repairs to be effected and concluded? Just so we’re operational?” he asked Ashley.
“Forty-five minutes, max,” she replied, after consulting her console.
“Shoot for twenty,” he said. “We have a genocide to stop—and time is running out.”
Chapter 15
Jeryl
Jeryl stood in his office, watching the view screen that was linked to the main one in the CNC. He drummed his fingertips against his thigh as he stared into the vastness of space, the hull of The Seeker the only thing cutting through the darkness.
They were racing against time. There was no other way to put it. If he didn’t make it in time, he would be responsible for the slaughter of a billion people—genocide.
He really didn’t have a plan. He didn’t even know if the fact that the Sonali weren’t responsible for the destruction of The Mariner would change the outcome of the war. The war was now being fueled by the burning desire of the Sonali to see mankind wiped out of the surface of the universe and by the human’s deep-seated hatred for the Sonali people. Like a lit bush that spread to engulf an entire forest, the conflict may had reached the point of no return.
Still, he had to try. If he didn’t, then the point of no return would be long behind them. But how did he stop this? How did he prevent the deaths of a billion of Sonali in one fell swoop?
How did he get two warring races, which had been so hell-bent on destroying each other, to consider the option of peace? That was why he was inside his office—he had taken time off the CNC to review his options.
Jeryl had been here for more time than he intended, and he still didn’t have a credible plan. And yet he knew he must stop the Wolf Offensive. If it pushed through, it would be the one blunder that history would never forgive humanity for.
They had learned that there were more intelligent species in the universe. They had already fought with two: the Sonali and the Nakra. There were many more: some were large regional powers that they discovered had borders intersecting humanity’s like the Drupadi Regime, the Children of Zorm, the Tyreesian Collective, the Reznak Empire. Others were non-aligned and much more provincial. They stayed out of their “little” war with the Sonali to probably judge their advancement as a species.
If they went ahead to commit this great atrocity…well, who knew what might happen? As far as Jeryl knew, if the Wolf Offensive happened, they could be opening up a Pandora’s Box that heralded an age of unmitigated warfare.
That’d be just great, wouldn’t it?
Welcome humanity to the galactic community of species—but unlike other races who entered peacefully, humanity would usher in an era of conflict. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He could feel a migraine brewing inside his skull.
Ashley was in CNC, managing the final repair efforts. Apparently, the forty-five minutes repair time she had given him right after they defeated the Nakra ship was to get the FTL drive working. After that, she had to begin repairs on the affected decks that were attacked by the blast. He looked up on his tablet and saw her report saying that the ship was up to 86% functionality. She estimated that full functionality would require another full day.
Nevertheless, they were hurtling towards the battle ground at a reduced FTL factor. This was the maximum the ship could take at its present level before it broke apart. They would all tumble into space, bodies among the wreckage.
“How do I get these people to hold back?” He asked himself out loud, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. It sounded exhausted. When was the last time he slept?
And in addition, a migraine.
Fuck.
What if the Sonali refused to cooperate despite his revelation? What if they decided it was humanity’s assumption that led to this bloody war and that Earth’s children were to blame for all of it? What if they decided to fight on, or to call on to the scene some universal criminal court?
If there existed a unifying all-powerful body in Terran Union, one that ensured law and order in the worlds and colonies within the Union, then it stood to reason that the greater galaxy should have one. Jeryl realized, then, that it was his responsibility to ensure that everyone agreed to a cease-fire.
At this point, it was the best option for everybody.
Ashley walked into his office, Dr. Lannigan and Commander Taylor in tow.
“What’s your status?” he asked them.
“Repairs are proceeding slowly, sir,” Ashley said. She motioned towards the two people she came with and continued, “They have something to say about our proposed line of attack.”
Jeryl frowned.
“I wasn’t aware that we had a proposed line of attack?”
He realized that he should be discussing this issue with his senior officers. Recently, he had been making a lot of decisions on the fly without first consulting them. It went against Armada policy and culture, though it wasn’t exactly illegal—a captain was well able to conduct the business of the ship in whatever way he deemed fit. But he didn’t want to be that kind of captain.
“Sir, I have thought about our predicament,” Dr. Lannigan said. “We were merely wondering what you intend to do about it. We’re currently running an interception course. I hardly think that running into the middle of battle and yelling that the Sonali aren’t the cause of the war and that you’re not going to be firing on them is going to bring peace.”
He snapped back to attention and looked up at the doctor. Something about how he said it made Jeryl’s brain fire up.
“You’re not actually considering that, are you?” Ashley said with a cautionary tone.
“I meant it as a sarcastic joke, Captain,” Dr. Lannigan affirmed. But Jeryl wasn’t looking at them. He didn’t want to hear their doubt. There was only one thing he cared about right now.
He didn’t have a plan, and now he did…as bad of a plan as it might be.
Even though he was all for integrative decision-making, there were some decisions that were the captain’s prerogative. This was one of these decisions.
He looked at Ashley, then Lannigan and finally Taylor.
“You’re dismissed. Report to CNC and ask all CNC crew not present to report there immediately.”
He picked up his tablet and looked up the report from navigation. According to the navigator’s estimations, they were going to be materializing in the center of the battlefield, just few minutes before the Terran Armada arrived. He looked for their ETA and saw that they had less than twenty minutes before they arrived at their destination.
That was exactly how long he had to fine-tune his plans.
He returned to the CNC with only three minutes to spare. He sat in his command chair and took a look at his senior officers and other members of the CNC crew. He could see the strain in their bodies and the tiredness in their eyes. They had been working tirelessly for the past couple of weeks. A lot of these people were with Jeryl when the war started, and they were still with him now as it neared its completion.
He knew that even though his decisions could be reckless, he would always have their support. He knew that even though some might disagree with his orders, they would always carry them. He didn’t know if captains worried about mutiny happening in other ships, like the incident that caused the Armada to send out Captain’s Guards; he did know, however, that mutiny was an impossibility on his ship.
“Taylor, can you get me an open channel communication to both Sonali and Armada ship? Broadcast to all ships at once?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “It’s going to take a few minutes to reconfigure the communications arrays to broadcast at two frequencies at the same time.”
“You have one minute,” he said.
She nodded and went to work, her hands flying over the console.
He looked up at the view screen as the navigator announced, “We’re dropping out of FTL factor seven in ten seconds.”
He went ahead to count down and then they appeared at the edge of the star system containing the Sonali planet, a purple sphere glinting below them.
“Sir, I’m picking up a large number of Sonali and Armada ships headed to each other from opposite sides…and we’re right in the middle of them.”
Dr. Lannigan announced in a crisp voice.
“They will be upon us in less than two minutes,” the tactical officer said.
“Moira!” he said, “Now!”
“Channel open, sir, please proceed.”
“This is Captain Jeryl Montgomery of The Seeker,” he said out loud.
“I call for a ceasefire. I repeat, I call for a ceasefire between the Sonali and humans. This war shouldn’t have been fought in the first place. Ceasefire, I repeat, ceasefire!”
“Sir, we are getting an incoming transmission from Admiral Flynn,” Moira announced.
“Put him through and keep the line open,” he replied.
“Jeryl, what the fuck is going on?” The Admiral asked me. His eyes were wide and tired, dark bags under them.
“Sir, I have hard evidence that the Sonali weren’t responsible for the destruction of The Mariner. This whole war was predicated on a lie. This is an open channel and all Sonali vessel can hear me. I will no longer be firing upon Sonali vessels. They are innocent.”
Well… that should really make everyone sit up and take notice, thought the Captain.
Chapter 16
Admiral Flynn
There were perks that came along with being named Area Admiral, and one of them was the view from Admiral Flynn’s sumptuous new office in Armada Command on New Washington. He oversaw operations on the Edoris, Malvelis, and Erdune Sectors.
Back on Earth, he had a hole in the wall, high rank or no high rank. Of course, in those days they didn’t have time to think about things like that. They were too busy fighting the blue-faces. Back then he wouldn’t have had the time to even glance out a window if he had one. But here they were, two years after the war’s end, and it was back to pondering things like, “Cherry or oak furniture?” and “Taupe or white walls?”
Admiral Flynn supposed that was good in a way. But he let his aide make those kinds of decisions, because honestly, he didn’t give a gonch’s ass what color the walls were. He was happy to have walls at all. He thought most people are.
They’d been rebuilding their infrastructure following the cessation of hostilities. He found it discomforting and aggravating to be working side by side, in some cases, with Sonali engineers on these reconstruction projects here on New Washington. On Earth, layers of bureaucracy would insulate him from contact with them. Now, here, he had to suck it up. He had to work with them, but he didn’t have to like them.
New Washington was one of the most Earthlike of the colony worlds, a real showcase of urban and agricultural planning. There used to be a city on Earth called Brasilia, the capital of the old South American nation Brazil. It was built in the jungle from the ground up and was supposed to be a shining example of modernity.
It almost worked. Brasilia ended up like most cities of the time: a combination of magnificent civic structures and poverty-stricken neighborhoods you wouldn’t want to walk in at night. As an observer commented at the time, “Nothing dates faster than people's fantasies about the future.”
But, Flynn must admit to himself, they’ve done a helluva job here on New Washington.
This star system was the hub of trade routes linking the Inner Core and the Farther Reaches, which were the regions beyond the Outer Colonies, the old limits of Terran-controlled space, to Sonali territory and the inhabited systems beyond. It was a genuine gateway world, an economic and political powerhouse in the fastest growing sectors of space in the Union, and so it needed to look like one.
Given its clement climate, New Washington was perfectly suited to be an interstellar showpiece, which it was; but it had paradoxically become the most industrialized of the colony worlds.
What he saw from his window on the 115th floor was an unbroken stretch of spires and towers. New Washington was the only city on the planet—mainly because the city took up most of the available land on the planet. The city built up as it was built out, and commerce and industrialism reigned no matter which way he turned. From space it looked like a glittering white jewel in a setting of green. There was nothing like it anywhere in the galaxy.
Flynn saw a Wesallian yacht pass majestically overhead. The Wesallians were but one of the 97 races of extraterrestrials they had met in the past eight years since First Contact with the Sonali. He couldn’t say they knew any of them as well as they knew the Sonali—a knowledge born of war, of course, so he was glad they hadn’t gotten to know the others that way.
Their scientists had lifetimes of information to parse and study. Advanced medical knowledge and improved FTL travel were only two of the areas that had seen enormous development. The corpers were delighted, too, because vast new markets had opened up for them, leading to untold wealth.
All in all, the Union was seeing peaceful days, for the most part. Oh, there were a few border skirmishes, the odd uprising here and there, and there were always pirates that needed to be dealt with, but overall, old dogs like him hadn’t got a lot to do these days.
Which was why he was here on New Washington, pushing papers and pressing the flesh as a diplomat. It was not a position he particularly enjoyed, but he supposed he would get used to it in time.
His door chimed and Flynn turned to see Admiral Jeryl Montgomery walking in.
“Hello, Admiral!” he said. They shook hands warmly. “Jeryl, it’s good to see you.”
“Thanks, Howard,” the old captain said. Flynn knew Jeryl was still a little bit uncomfortable using his given name, but he insisted. The older admiral still outranked him, but not by a lot. They were both at the upper levels of command, and they shared campaigns and heartbreak all throughout the war. They’d been through too much together to not use first names—in private, anyway.
“How's Ashley?” he asked, taking a couple of glasses and a bottle of genuine Kentucky bourbon out of his desk.
He asked this while he poured. Flynn knew the answer, because he made it his business to keep tabs on both of them. But he was drawing the new admiral out.
He took a healthy drink before replying. “She’s Captain Gavin now, serving aboard The Seeker,” he said, and then sighed. “It happens to be in orbit around New Washington right now, so we’ll have some time together before she has to ship out. We don’t see each other very often these days, I’m afraid.”
“Sorry to hear that, son.”
“Thanks. It’s put a strain on the marriage.”
“Do you ever think of having children?”
He laughed, and Flynn detected a rueful tinge to it.
“I don’t think that’s in the cards for us, unless we do it by surrogates, and then who’d be raising the kids?”
He shrugged. “Hired help. That’s not how we’d want to do it. Anyway, we’ve got time to think about it.”
Flynn made a noncommittal noise that hid the stab of pity he felt for Jeryl. He knew how hard it was to maintain a life dedicated for serving one’s race. Now, he was learning the bitterness that came with no longer being needed in that capacity. But he wouldn’t tell Jeryl about that. He would find that out for himself one day.
“So tell me about the negotiations,” he said. Flynn knew he had been working tirelessly this past year to create what was being called a Galactic Council. It would receive a formal name once it got out of orbit. These years after the war had seen such an increase in trade and contact with other races that a special body needs to be created to oversee it all, as well as the immigration of aliens into the Union. There were, after all, many worlds in Union-controlled space that were unsuitable for human colonization—too hot, too cold—but perfect for the needs of non-humans. The humans had no objection to them developing unused real estate, but they needed to keep an eye on what they were doing.
Jeryl’s nascent council was designed, in part, to fill that need. A great many people were excited about it.
For the first time, he smiled.
“I think they’re going well,” Jeryl said. “Quite well.”
Flynn poured some more bourbon, as they seemed to have finished the first round.
“I’m pleased to hear you say that.”
And he was; not so much for the council itself—though it will be a great help—but for him.
“Thank you,” he said. “The final papers should be ready for signing within a fortnight, standard time.”
He swirled the liquor in his glass. “You know, Howard, sometimes it seems to me as if it was only last week that we met the Sonali. And then discovered the Nakra. And all the others.”
Flynn nodded. “Our lives have changed, in ways we never could have imagined. Ten years ago, we were alone in the universe, as far as we knew.”
“We’ve learned a great deal since then,” he said. “I like to think that we have matured as a species.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps. I agree that both the Sonali and we recognized the errors of our ways. Neither side was entirely good or bad. I didn’t see that for a long time.”
“If we hadn’t unmasked what the Nakra had done, then Lord only knows what might have happened…that day.”
For their trouble, Nakra space had been cordoned off. They set robot stations to patrols its limits, warning off would-be intruders. No one wanted anything like that to happen again.
“Enough happened,” Jeryl said, biting off his words. The Admiral knew Jeryl felt personally responsible for much of what happened, though Flynn had assured him more than once that it wasn’t his fault.
If anything, Jeryl was a hero. The man who first met the Sonali, who led some of humanity’s greatest campaigns against them. The man who defended his people, who uncovered the secret of who destroyed The Mariner. And then, he was the man who ended the war.
Every time Flynn closed his eyes he still saw that day when Jeryl brought The Seeker in the middle of the Sonali and Terran fleets. Said that he would not fire on the Sonali planet. Shared his scans of the Nakra.
It took the Terran captains in Flynn’s fleet by surprise. They were ready to bring down The Seeker. But then everyone was surprised when the Sonali powered their weapons down. After all, the Nakra had admitted that they had guised themselves as Sonali.
Flynn remembered receiving the Planetary Legate from the Sonali side on his flagship. They had arranged a ceasefire right there.
Six months later, a formal declaration of cessation of hostilities ushered the way for peace. Two months later, he was promoted and stationed on New Washington.
To think, all of this could have been avoided.
If anyone was truly to blame, it was the Nakra, not Jeryl. But his guilt and frustration galvanized his determination to create this Galactic Council, where representatives from each species would be invited to air any grievances, raise issues, and try to solve their problems through words, not conflict. It was a worthy goal, an attempt to make something new in galactic history, as far as they could determine. It was the first step toward a unified galaxy, and Flynn was proud that humans were spearheading it.
Jeryl, in fact, had spent most of the last year on Sonali Prime, working directly with humankind’s old enemies, who were proving to be good friends after all. But he had transferred here now because of his work to make the council a reality.
Jeryl grinned now, and Flynn saw some of the tension come out of him. It made the old admiral want to put an arm around him, but he wouldn’t do that, of course. It would make both of them rather uncomfortable.
I have to show my affection in subtler ways, Flynn decided.
“I’m glad you’ll be around more often,” he said then. “I’ve found a couple of good fishing spots that I’d like to show you.”
“I’d love to go. I could use a break from all the people.”
“Eh?”
“It’s just that it’s a little odd for me to see so many humans around, after spending so much of my time on Sonali Prime.”
He grunted. “I see more aliens than humans, these days.”
“Times have changed!” He drained his glass. “Got to go, sir; I have yet another meeting. It’s been good to see you.”
They shook hands once more.
“Come by any time,” Flynn told him.
“Count on it.” He flashed that grin again, and then he was gone.
Two years ago, it would’ve been difficult for Flynn to imagine that one day, he’d be looking at his window, feeling a sense of peace.
But now I’m here, looking at this marvellous view, he thought. I can see the future.
It looks bright.
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The Omarian Gambit
A Pax Aeterna Novel
By Trevor Wyatt
Copyright 2017 by Pax Aeterna Press
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental.
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Trevor Wyatt
Jeryl
Jeryl was weary of New Washington. Simmering with discontent, he stalked along the elevated walkway over the main promenade, dodging aliens and hearing translations of their babble, courtesy of his Trask implant. He made the “delete feed” gesture so many times that he probably looked like he was trying to swat gnats.
It was almost enough to make him miss his days on Sonali Prime, when he had to use the translator unit all the time. Now, he would love to have the damn, physically unobtrusive but mentally tiring in-ear implant removed.
There were occasions, however, when Jeryl still needed the implant. Walking in public, though, was not one of them. The thing was that the device couldn’t be turned off; he could only cancel a conversation. Design flaw.
There were vendors up there, too, mostly those hawking fresh foods of various types. Jeryl’s nostrils caught various odors as he passed their stalls—some were enticing, some revolting. He was used to this.
He stopped to purchase a mug of hot, thick deftol from a green-furred, monkey-like native of Vozel. Deftol was a bitter-tasting infusion for which he had developed a liking. It contained compounds that acted as mild stimulants—helpful on days when his spirits were a bit low.
Sipping his mug as he wended his way through the crowds, he felt a bit better. The deftol’s energizing effect lifted his mood.
Jeryl was wearing a business suit, which was why he was outraged when a small form hurtled out of the crowd and slammed onto him, spilling his deftol all over his coat.
“Stop, you young thief!” Jeryl heard someone shout.
Without thinking, but not without cursing, he grabbed the little so-and-so who collided with him. It was a young native of Irivani, a moon circling the planet Majriti, a jovian planet in the Upsilon Andromedae system.
He (or so Jeryl assumed; they had three sexes, which he couldn’t tell apart, but the “males” were more aggressive) was grasping a hammed fruit in one of his four hands as he struggled in Jeryl’s grip, trying to free himself.
“Lemme go, you stupid Terran pig!” he spat.
Surely, he didn’t expect Jeryl to understand, but he had his Trask implant.
He shook the kid and said in Irivani, “Respect your elders, you little goniff.”
The thief was so astonished that he stopped struggling for a moment. It gave the victim—a portly Irivani, probably a female (all Irivanian vendors are female)—time to bustle up to Jeryl, panting.
Irivanians were used to a thicker atmosphere, and exertion on New Washington quickly got the older ones out of breath. The little creep who stole the fruit was probably born there, so he was acclimated. It was a moment before she could voice her complaint.
“Yngvi, you little louse! This is the second time in this cycle that I’ve caught you stealing my wares!” she cried. She snatched him away from Jeryl and shook him even harder than he did. “To the temple we go, where you can beg the forgiveness of Great Ved.”
	And she marched him off, paying no heed to his whining. Before they finally vanished into the crowd, she turned her head completely around on her shoulders and flung a word of thanks to Jeryl.
Well, it was more than he expected. Jeryl’s mood, not to mention his coat, was ruined by this encounter despite the ameliorating effects of the deftol.
He found the closest wardrobe shop, where he purchased a new outfit and ducked into a fitting booth. He stripped off his dripping clothing, tossed it in a recycler, and emerged a few moments later to continue on his way towards his meeting with Grand Admiral Howard Flynn.
His lofty ideals, so firmly in place when he began the process of trying to set up the Galactic Council two years ago, had taken a beating over time. Jeryl’s intervention with the thief, Yngvi, exemplified this. The aliens squabbled endlessly among themselves and with other species. Their petty arguments often went from minuscule points of protocol down to the color of their seat cushions.
Jeryl was convinced a lot of these considerations were purely passive-aggressive nonsense, but that didn’t make them any less of real concerns. Someone had to deal with them. That someone would have to be him.
He was feeling even more discontented than before. He was even more pessimistic in thinking how the races would ever learn to get along with one another when they couldn’t even live harmoniously among themselves.
For two years, Jeryl worked his ass off to get the Galactic Council off the drawing board. Jeryl had been so busy that he had only seen the Grand Admiral a handful of times in the past year. Even before he collared the fruit thief, he felt the need to vent a little. It was one reason why he asked Flynn to fit him into his busy morning for just a few minutes.
Plus, he wanted to get rid of the guilt he had been feeling as he was not able to speak with him in ways other than slipstream.
After all, the Council was partly Flynn’s idea, though he was far too modest a man, for a general, to take any credit for it.
Of course, the flip side of that coin was that when things went wrong, he didn’t have to accept any of the blame. All that stuck to Jeryl like the gooey deftol.
It didn’t generally bother him, because as someone else in authority used to say, “The buck stops here.” (A buck was an old-style unit of currency from the nation-state of the United States of America.)
He wouldn’t have become a vice admiral without being able to accept responsibility. Truth be told, he enjoyed problem solving. As a kid, he loved puzzles and games, and it got better when things became more challenging.
Jeryl never dreamed of trying to organize representatives of alien civilizations. When he started this effort, the idea was to get ten races (humans being one of them) together to form the hub of a functioning legislative body, something that could mediate disputes, oversee trade, and monitor political activities in a member’s native star system, as well as interactions with other council members.
Jeryl swore this looked workable on paper.
They started out simply, or so he thought, with only oxygen-nitrogen breathers who could tolerate a more or less Earth-normal temperature and pressure range with minimal implants—like the Sonali, for one, along with the Irivanians, the Vozelians, and several others.
They contacted the chlorine breathers and some other exotremes. Some of them agreed to send emissaries, but only virtual ones. The climate on New Washington was lethal to them. And so, they were represented in gatherings through a holographic projector.
Of course, they had the example of the Sonali staring them right in the face—they fought a war with them because of misunderstandings.
Sharing a preferred atmosphere didn’t mean sharing a viewpoint. The Irivanians were solely concerned with the bottom line—what’s in it for them. They were master traders and merchants, and they were impatient for the Council to get down to business (no pun intended) so that they could start making a profit.
At last, Jeryl arrived at Howard’s office and pressed a finger on the CALL pad. It analyzed his electrolytes, found him in its database, and then slid open. He was in the outer office, where his secretary, another Vozellian, nodded at him.
“He’s expecting you, Admiral,” she said. “Go right in.”
“Thanks, Leekerchee. Looking good today, hon.”
She simpered at him as he passed through the inner door.
“Jeryl!” Howard exclaimed, coming out from behind his desk to seize his hand. “Einstein on the beach! It’s good to see you.” He sniffed. “What’s that I smell? Is that deftol?”
With a sigh, Jeryl took a seat and related his little adventure on the upper level. Howard laughed, but not too hard. He, too, had his own share of close encounters.
“It beats getting shot at by Sonali warships, though, eh?” he said, offering Jeryl a shot of bourbon.
“Early for me,” Jeryl said, waving it off.
“Me too, but this place can drive a man to it,” Howard said. “I’m not fit to be a diplomat, Jeryl. A dipsomaniac, maybe, if we keep getting wrapped up in bureaucratic crap.”
Jeryl nodded ruefully. The truth was that, although the Earth-Sonali War had ended, its resolution had brought a series of other conflicts to light. Some of them was probably about to burst into the open to ensnare Earth in an interstellar web of technological, mercantile, and political interests.
“Yeah,” Jeryl said, poker-faced. “Who knew that interspecies diplomacy would be so hard?”
Howard gave him a hard look, then laughed.
“I don’t see why we have to be the ones to try to resolve all this,” Howard said, turning to stare out his window. He had gotten a much better view from his office than he had from Jeryl’s.
Jeryl shrugged. “Someone needs to do it,” he said. “No one else has stepped up. Besides, it’ll give us a greater voice in the galaxy. Think of the power and influence humanity will get—”
“Power and influence is for people who have forgotten how to value the small, important things in life,” Howard grumbled.
“Like a good view from an office window?” Jeryl said, grinning.
“Smartass,” Howard said, smiling before he got serious. “The Terran Union made the mistake of reaching out to every civilization we’ve encountered. It isn’t our fault that many of them, up until now, have existed in a state of very little diplomatic contact with each other, like isolated kingdoms in the Dark Ages or European or feudal societies.”
“Yeah, they don’t want to be helped, some of them,” Jeryl said.
“But you’re going to keep on trying.”
“I am.”
“Good man. We’ve got to get these first ten races onboard, son. I don’t need to tell you how important it is that we humans become the unifying factor in the galaxy.”
Howard was right, of course. Under Council auspices, the stability of the galaxy would increase dramatically.
They talked a bit longer, but Jeryl had a full schedule, and he was aware Howard’s day was packed, too.
“Keep me apprised of your progress,” Jeryl said, shaking Howard’s hand.
Jeryl took his leave after promising to stay in closer touch with the Grand Admiral.
Jeryl
After leaving Admiral Flynn’s office suite, Jeryl took a drop-tube to the roof. It had been a long day and he was looking forward to being home, and even more to seeing his wife. They were not the most social people nowadays—she was the Captain of The Seeker and was away for stretches of time, so when they did find each other, it’s just the two of them together.
They preferred each other’s company more than the company of diplomats, politicians, or alien emissaries as the norm had become.
Their quarter, an official diplomatic residence in New Washington’s Administrative District, was comfortable and snug, if not luxurious. And they spent many nights there listening to music and playing chess or cards.
It was not exciting. It was not the sort of life envisioned by people who read too many political thrillers set among New Washington’s style makers and embassies, But it was always a welcome relief for them;
Their home was the only place where they could shuck their official roles and enjoy their time together as husband and wife over a glass or two of wine. It was where they could rest away from the endless bureaucratic headaches they coped with every day.
	The headaches were not getting less stressful, either. After years in the military, he thought he’d seen every type of pigheadedness, spite, and turf fighting a species could devise. Sure—maybe one species. But now he was wrangling ten, trying to get them all to agree on the charter of the Galactic Council.
	“It would be easier to wrestle a dozen octopuses,” Jeryl told himself, enjoying the brief solitude of the drop-tube capsule. In the case of one race, the members of the Drupadi Regime, the comparison was apt because Drupadians, though air breathers, wee descendants of an ancestor that looked a great deal like the Terran octopus.
	When he got to the roof, there were no cabs in the taxi stand. He stood and waited for one to come, looking out over the city and reflecting on the task before him.
	The Circle of Ten, as they came to be called, weren’t the only alien species lurking in the corridors of the Promenade down there. There were plenty of others who were also attracted to that place by commercial possibilities, or the chances of fleeing repressive governments and seeking educational opportunities. The Vozellian monkey-folk, Jeryl’s favorite deftol vendor, was just one example.
Eventually, they would get them all under the Council’s umbrella, but for now, they were trying to gather the more influential races: The Sonali Combine, the Kurta Colonies, the Irivani Empire, the Tyreesian Collective, the Children of Zorm, the Drupadi Regime, the Vozelian Nation, the Terran Union, the Gadha peoples, and the Hastinapuran Hegemony.
The Terrans, who would, one might think, be an easy sell, were anything but that because of the factions. The Outer Colonies were oriented far more toward the bottom line than the politicos there on New Washington, and the Earth-based contingent had its own agenda.
Earth dwellers still thought they’re the boss of them. Despite lip-service paid to it, they had never really accepted the fact that the center of human affairs was now located firmly on New Washington. They still expected concessions and tax advantages. Their ship has sailed, but they have yet to admit it.
Sure, the Academy and the Armada Command were on Earth. The President still had his offices there. But the galaxy was coming together, and the most interaction was happening there, in New Washington.
	Jeryl saw his ship was about to arrive. The cab passed over the top of the building, came around in a sweeping arc, and settled to a gentle landing on its service pad a hundred feet away. He was halfway across the roof by the time its gullwing door swung up, allowing a pair of business-suited human females to exit.
Their conversation didn’t miss a beat, and they didn’t spare him as much as a glance when he passed by. They were speaking French, a language he didn’t know, but his Trask implants translated their discussion and Jeryl grinned as he understood their conversation; they were debating the relative merits of Blue Stilton versus Roquefort cheese.
	He was still grinning as he climbed into the waiting cab. He preferred cheddar, himself.
	Jeryl gave the machine his address. He let it scan the invisible ID tattoo on his wrist, and then settled back. The cab muttered mechanically to itself for a moment before it lifted off into the clear sky.
	Peace was a good thing.
As he settled into the cab’s cushioned seat, he allowed himself to reflect a bit on this. Perhaps it was just the added perspective he had while he was aloft there, looking at the view below from above the most important city in human history.
Peace allowed women to argue about cheese. Peace between the species they’d contacted would lead to increased opportunities in education, technology, and even social evolution. Best of all, to his way of thinking, it was a two-way street.
They may not had possessed a lot in common with the Drupadi when it came to living space and preferred food, but they both valued peace. Jeryl came to understand that intelligent beings were more or less the same everywhere: people just wanted to be left alone to go about their lives. When people would only think about it, it would not be a lot to ask.
	Sure, there were disenfranchised minorities on almost every planet. The great fallacy of human society was the inability to visualize aliens as having civilizations as complex as theirs. Earth—and human culture—wasn’t a monolithic, homogenous mass like an ant colony. There were still a few hunter-gatherer cultures left on Earth, as well as some nomadic people who resisted the pressure to settle in cities. They had no use for the Galactic Council.
It was the same in other worlds. There were downtrodden castes, unevolved cultures, or uncivilized backwater regions on every planet they had contacted. Sure, they liked to bring them all into the current century; but the truth was that they didn’t want to join the party for whatever reason.
And it wasn’t their business to force them.
Like Jeryl said, it took them a long time to get to that point, and the realization proved to be a fragile thing. There were still plenty of people who believed that they “knew better” than others, and that their way of life was the only acceptable way.
The Terran Union conducted an informal census a few years ago, and the numbers showed that there were roughly two million non-human Union members in a variety of worlds. Most of their numbers were concentrated on New Washington and on planet Earth. Many of those individuals were government employees, of course, and they represented billions of their citizens.
Keeping them all happy— or trying to keep them all happy, Jeryl would say—had been a full-time job.
My job, he thought.
Some days were better than others. That day, in particular, wasn’t over yet.
As the cab was spiraling in for a landing on the roof of his building, he craned his neck to get a better look. There were hundreds of protesters down there, waving signs and shaking their fists at the blank glass façade.
Jeryl groaned. He knew who these people were. They were Terran Nationalists, and they’re protesting there outside the official residence of the human diplomatic corps.
Protesting to me, he thought, among others.
Jeryl settled back into the seat, resisting an impulse to tell the cab to take him back to Flynn’s office. He gripped the hand rests. He wouldn’t let those fools ruin his day.
With that in mind, as well as an unbidden image of a plate of sliced cheddar and a cold bottle of white wine, he composed himself as best he could.
He would need to talk to them and try to get them to disperse.
The cab settled into the landing cradle, which accepted its weight without as much as a creak of protest. The Terran Nationalists were a relatively new group that had gained strength over the past three years in response to the influx of aliens in human worlds.
The group insisted that aliens were taking human jobs and that they were sucking the economy dry of valuable resources while contributing nothing in terms of taxes. According to them, the alien cultures were destroying Terran values.
Whereas, like Jeryl said, most people just wanted to live their lives and adhere to what used to be called the Golden Rule, which would translate to something like, “If you don’t stick your nose in my affairs, I will not stick my nose in your affairs.”
You’d think that would be simple enough for anyone to understand, but there were those—and Jeryl had encountered many of them in his time—who really did believe that they knew what a person “ought to do.”
And they were sincere in that belief.
The Terran Nationalists fell into that category. Their outrage over the emigration of aliens towered above New Washington’s loftiest spires. This was the first time they became so bold as to set up a protest outside Jeryl’s home (and not just his, of course, but the home of many members of his staff and others in the diplomatic corps). But he had learned how to not let his anger or irritation show in tight situations, so when he climbed out of the cab, he donned an easy smile on his face.
Mr. Friend-of-the-Media, that would be him. Because he could see the cameras pointed at him from within that crowd.
The Nationalists could be obnoxious, but they weren’t fools. If Jeryl would say anything stupid or angry, it’d flash on news screens everywhere in a dozen worlds.
This was not the homecoming he was hoping for.
Ashley
The Terran Union diplomatic headquarters and residences were a spectacular sight to behold. Designed by a consortium of artists, architects, and engineers, the artistic beauty and engineering marvel stretched exactly two hundred and seventy four floors into the air.
The first floor started at about ten yards above ground level. The building was surrounded by polished stone steps, which connected the ground level to four main entrances on all fours faces of the building. Covering a base of about two blocks, the structure was the diplomatic powerhouse of the Terran Union. It housed more than a thousand staff members and catered to tens of thousands of delegates.
There were housing quarters for special delegates and a series of massive conference rooms for the several meetings that took place within the building. There was a landing pad with cradle at the top of the building, where air cars and away vehicles from the orbiting space station or orbiting ships could land to drop delegates or senators from other worlds.
The building also had a stadium-sized general assembly area, which was located on a subterranean level. The hall was usually used for general assemblies between humans, Sonali, and all other species. Plated with a mixture of colored glass, aluminum, and stainless steel, the body of the building looked like a smooth and slick star ship. Ashley almost felt like she could pilot the thing out to space.
She had heard rumors that the building had an emergency evacuation protocol, in the event of an attack or emergency that could threaten its destruction. It could be easily turned into a space vessel with its thrusters and launched into space, where it would merge with the orbiting space station that was FTL-capable, and escape to a military zone.
“Excuse me, Captain,” said a voice behind her, interrupting her train of thoughts.
She turned to see a security personnel looking at her with a warm smile. She smiled back.
“Are you lost?”
“No,” Ashley replied. “I’m just waiting for my husband. He’s supposed to meet me right here. Thanks for asking.”
The security man nodded, turned, and walked away from her.
Returning to her fascination with the building, she craned her neck to get a good view of the top of the building. She had to squint and shade her eyes with her hand because of the high angle of the blazing twin suns and spikes of reflected light that stroked her.
Jeryl told her that, sometimes, the top of the building was hidden within the clouds, other times it wasn’t. This was one of the other times. She saw that, at the very top, the building curved inward, reducing the area to about a fourth of its base area.
Then she saw a lightning rod (or at least she thought it was) that stretched higher and higher on. Because of the thickness of the lightning rod, she couldn’t tell if it was ten yards tall or if it was just a hundred.
	Ashley thought seriously about her theory that the building could be a spaceship. There was a control center at the two hundred and seventy fourth level. The control center took up the whole floor and it was where the entire building was controlled. It was where the staff of over one thousand members were coordinated and directed.
Though owned by the government, it was not a military building. Hence, the staff members were not military. The staff, however, used a military hierarchical system that ensured productivity and discipline.
Ashley even heard that the senior managers in the building were former Terran Armada officers. Some left the Armada just after the Earth-Sonali war to join the team in the headquarters.
She didn’t blame them; neither did she hate them for leaving the Armada. But if they had left during the war, she could have hated them.
The pay here was good, from what she knew. Very good.
A junior staffer could be earning more than twice what a First Officer in a Battle Cruiser may be earning. The senior staffers could earn way more than some top Admirals. Ashley knew that they earned more than her husband, Vice Admiral Jeryl Montgomery.
But then, being in the Armada was more than getting paid. It had become her life. It was her passion—to explore the vast reaches of space and defend the Terran Union with all the firepower of the Terran Armada. She would very quickly give up life than give up the opportunity to be the captain of TUS The Seeker, which she now commanded.
She would readily give up on life than give up on her dream of commanding the entire Armada fleet alongside her husband one day.
	In fact, she would freely pay to be allowed to captain an Armada vessel as massive and extremely powerful as The Seeker. If the Armada thought it was wise to pay her in spite of her desire and proclivity, she didn’t mind.
	Ashley stood at the base of the flight of steps that led up to the building. There was a moderate pedestrian traffic moving up and down the steps.
They were mostly humans. But every so often, she would see an alien face as well.
So much had changed in such little time in New Washington. Some were happy, some were not. Many were still trying to catch their breath.
Air cars whizzed by, dropping by and picking up passengers. Each air car that stopped and descended to the ground in her proximity drew her attention. When she didn’t see her husband, she went back to marveling the building.
The building security was tight all around, both inside and outside—men and women were wielding laser guns set to stun. These people went through the same training as the Armada security corps that now became a common stay on all Armada vessels.
Ashley once tried to get them off The Seeker, when her husband handed over command to her upon the approval of the Armada board. Then, she found out that it was more than a matter of policy. It was the law, and to issue such an order, which would invalidate the work of the security personnel, would be unlawful.
	She began to feel a slow buildup of anger and resentment. The one arm of the Terran Armada she didn’t like so much was the Armada Intelligence.
“Those pompous overbred sons of bitches,” she muttered with acrimony before she caught herself and stopped.
She forced a smile as she exhaled. She looked around and took in a deep breath. The air was warm and filled with the wonderful smell of New Washington summer. The outer edges of the grounds were surrounded with gardens that were well tended and blooming.
“Here me all!” boomed a loud voice.
Ashley turned her head, a little alarmed, to see who was speaking. She noticed an average height (the kind that would border on a tall man) and a small crowd. The man began to address the people.
	They were far enough to notice Ashley in particular. She suspected, from the man’s tone and words, that his protest was against the Alien Integration Program, as well as the government and military that sponsored and supported the program. Yet, Ashley was close enough to hear him speak, and she realized that he was Lucien Parker.
	Lucien Parker was a household name in almost every residence in the Terran World in 2205. His outspokenness against all aliens and their bid to integrate them and integrate with them had gone unnoticed by the government. Yet, he was so popular with the masses.
Everyone within the Armada thought he was taking advantage of the war that led to the loss of countless lives. Ashley thought so, too, and she thought it was the lowest of the low.
The worst part?
Lucien used to be part of the Armada. He joined as an enlisted soldier in 2197. He left in 2202, when peace was declared.
	“For five bloody years, we fought these scumbags!” Lucien yelled, the ever growing crowd roaring in response. “And now, these blue-skinned bastards are coming to our worlds, living in our worlds, and taking our goddamn jobs and money!”
	The crowd yelled its support. Some were cursing the government that facilitates the “evil”, while others were insulting the Sonali, who were the “evil”.
	“They are yet to pledge allegiance to the Terran Union, yet they keep taking money out of our economy! They are waging the same war, only using peace as their mechanism!”
	The crowd was starting to work into a frenzy. Ashley took several steps away as the crowd grew by the second.
She saw that a bunch of security personnel were now holding a very loose circle around the crowd. Their stance was relaxed and unaggressive. However, she knew they could go from there to full-on battle mode in the fraction of a second.
	“Mothers, consider your children who have died in the war,” Lucien continued. His voice inflections conveyed the gravity of the losses. Ashley even began to feel the pain and she got slightly angry at the Alien Integration Program before she caught herself and stopped at a realization.
You are playing right into his perfectly crafted motives, she told herself.
	“These same mothers now have to work alongside the same people who killed their sons,” Lucien said at the point of tears.
Lucien’s eyes glistened in the sun. Ashley marveled at his professional display of theatric skills. She knew he didn’t really care about those mothers. He was an anarchist. And Ashley was just waiting for the injunction that would declare him an enemy of the state and a terrorist to the Union.
Ashley would be the one to hunt him down and put him in a cell for desecrating the knowledge and efforts of the millions who died during the five-year-long war. However, Lucien had been incredibly smart. He was yet to break any laws, though he skirted them with the confidence of an experienced dancer.
And, the Union was supposedly dedicated to free speech. Ashley would be just as bad as him if she’d take that away.
	Lucien pointed to a woman who had been standing beside him this whole time. That was also when Ashley started to actually notice her. She was a woman in her mid-fifties. She had been sobbing for a while; her face was moist with tears.
	“This is Martha,” he said. “Her son was killed when the TUS Cortez engaged with the Sonali at Edoris Station and was destroyed. Now, this same woman finds herself working for a Sonali manager who was recently hired by the Pan Solaris Corporation. Is that fair?”
	“No!” the crowd boomed in unison.
Ashley flinched at their unified voices. She noticed some of the guards were now getting nervous.
	“Is it just?”
	“No!” Another boom.
	This time, Ashley took a few more steps backward. She saw that the crowd had gotten aggressive and angry. The guards now switched to full-on battle mode. She was not sure what triggered them. But she felt the tension had risen to nuclear high.
There was about to be a showdown. Any misstep, any misfire, anything—and this whole protest would end in a disaster. Ashley almost compelled herself to radio her ship, which was currently orbiting the planet, and send her security detail, which had been expanded to ten, thanks to her crazy paranoid husband.
Not so crazy paranoid now, I guess.
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The Pax Aeterna Universe
Pax Aeterna is the name of the science fiction universe created by Trevor Wyatt. It explores humanity as it explores and grows in its journey into the stars, taking its place amongst other species in the universe. The series features around human conflicts, internal as well as those external.
Included you will find an excerpt from the Encyclopedia Aeterna.
Encyclopedia Aeterna Volume 1
Timeline of the Terran Union
2024: Formal treaty to set a 25 year term towards political integration between the United States, Canada, and Mexico in an extension of NAFTA. This was agreed to in the backdrop of The Accords of Expedition amongst member nation states of the European Union for greater political integration by 2040.
The first private spacecraft to carry passengers into space, and allow them to spend one week aboard a private space station operated and owned by the Taylor Corporation was launched. The passengers paid $3.5 million and there were 15. They were returned successfully to earth after a period of one week in space.
2025: Realizing that the integration between the United States, Canada, and Mexico would lead to a large superpower and with the addition of a greater political union between the member nations of the European Union the countries of Asia decided that only one course of action existed for them; a political union. The countries of China, India, Japan, Singapore, Indonesia, Vietnam, and Malaysia decided to form a political union with the goal of full integration by the year 2054. The seat of power for the Asian Bloc sat in the city state of Hong Kong.
2026: The Asian Bloc began to exert its influence through a series of trade deals with nations on its periphery. The actions from the Asian block were opposed by the North American Confederation. Tensions rose over determining territorial waters as well as shipping routes. Trade embargoes were placed upon a series of Asian Bloc nations by the North American Confederation. Violence continued to escalate in the Middle East as the countries of Iran and Saudi Arabia sought to increase their spheres of influence within the region. These moves were opposed by both the European Union as well as the North American Confederation but were supported by the Asian Bloc.
An economic contagion spurred by cheap money caused by low interest rates and sustained by a high rate of inflation began to ravage the American industrial and lower skilled service industries. The United States government, in an effort to prevent widespread economic damage began to severely limit the ability of corporations to bring in foreign workers.
Economic hardship persisted in the European Union which saw unemployment rates at historically high rates of 15-20%.
2027: The United Nations sought to lower the level of discourse between the North American Confederation and the Asian Bloc. Negotiations and summits were set to discuss the issues that had caused one third of the world to be embargoed by the other two thirds. The negotiations failed to achieve any substantive results. The leaders of the Asian Bloc began to impose sanctions upon nations within the Asian continent and surrounding areas who were nonmember states in a bid to bring them into the collective sphere of influence. The countries of New Zealand and Australia were supported by the North American Confederation. Australia and New Zealand became a battleground for an economic proxy war between the Asian Bloc and North American Confederation. Foreign direct investment began to be tied to political cooperation by the Asian Bloc. The North American Confederation reacted in similar fashion. By the end of 2027, the economy of Australia had contracted 5% due to a severe financial crisis caused by tensions in the region.
The Russian Federation announced that by 2030 they would have a scientific and exploratory base on the moon.
2028: The advent of large-scale solar energy collection wreaked havoc on the oil-based economies of the Middle East. Two countries were poised to pivot. Saudi Arabia and Iran. From 2017 to 2024 these two countries had built an infrastructure designed to capture and harness the power of the sun. Their neighbors were not so fortunate and the Middle East long accustomed to funding and placating extremist groups through massive social programs and welfare spending now found itself cash-strapped and debt ridden. Unemployment and structural imbalances in the economy caused mass unrest. From 2025 to 2027 the region had been subjected to many droughts and extreme weather. Entire villages were abandoned as environmental refugees moved to the cities.
Severe environmental events including hurricanes and flooding led to the creation of millions of environmental refugees from Bangladesh and the western portion of the Indian subcontinent. Environmental refugees found very little welcome within the Asian Bloc considering that Bangladesh was not a member state. Massive storms, droughts, cyclones, and flooding in the Southwest regions of China led to a destabilizing influence that resulted in the Xin Pi rebellion. The brutal manner in which the rebellion was dealt with by the Asian Bloc received global condemnation and criticism. Warnings were sent by the North American Confederation and the European Union that the brutal manner of the suppression would not be tolerated. The two rival powers saw this as a means to delegitimize the Asian Bloc.
2029: One of the aims of the hardline nationalists in Hong Kong began to be realized in 2029 as American bases in Japan and Singapore began to close under pressure from local governments. However, the American presence in South Korea was nonnegotiable by the North American Confederation. The North Korean portion of the peninsula had been absorbed into the greater Asian Bloc in mid-2028. Now the leaders of Asia demanded the complete removal of American troops from South Korea stating that their presence at the doorstep of Asia was seen as an unnecessary provocation. The elections of 2029 brought to power a nationalist South Korean government that favored entry into the Asian Bloc. Within months entry was granted to South Korea into the member nations. On December 31, 2029, the South Korean government formally requested the removal of US forces from the Korean Peninsula.
2030: The Astra Corporation began to make plans to launch an expedition to Mars. Scientific advancement in space travel had been severely curtailed by 2030 from the governments of the Asian Bloc and the European Union as well as the North American Confederation. The exploration of space was left to corporations and private interests. The Astra Corporation announced that they would have an outpost in Mars by the end of 2031 and that they had been planning this endeavor for the last 12 years.
Tensions reached a breaking point on the world stage when a Chinese submarine was discovered off the coast of California. In a breakdown in communications the submarine was provoked into an attack that led to its sinking by forces from the US Navy and Coast Guard. The Asian Bloc demanded an apology as well as compensation while the North American Confederation demanded an end to incursions and territorial waters by forces of the Asian Bloc.
Tensions came to a head as unilateral sanctions were levied upon the North American Confederation by both the Asian Bloc as well as the Russian Federation. The European Union sided with the North American Confederation and the stage was set for a showdown between half the world against the other. While the European Union and North American Confederation sought to discuss these issues at the United Nations the Russian Federation and Asian Bloc refused to participate citing the archaic and dated hierarchy of the United Nations. They proposed a summit on neutral ground in Dubai which was roundly rejected by the governments in Brussels and Washington DC. Tensions remained high for the remainder of 2030.
Five other privately funded explorations were announced in 2030. The number of corporations who had begun mining and setting up operations in space had grown since the first privately funded space exploratory voyage in the early part of the 21st century. There were now multiple space stations-very utilitarian and sparse-that were being owned and operated by corporations.
The logical extension became the utilization of space for a measure of safety and security for vital assets and people within these corporations. By the end of 2030 nearly every large organization that operated in a variety of countries and economic zones of power had a contingency plan for moving manpower and material into space in the event of hostilities on earth.
2031: The first permanent colony on the moon was announced through a joint venture between the Taylor Corporation and the North American Confederation. The Taylor Corporation also announced a second joint venture with Pan Solaris. Pan Solaris was a company that had been founded through a joint venture between several large technology firms in 2020. The company’s mission was simple; to migrate people who wish to get away from planet Earth. The price tag was high. It was only affordable to the wealthy few. But by 2031 the first of several weekly launches from Pan Solaris was commenced. At its heart, it was an endeavor to build the first sustainable and independent colony on Luna. Construction was slated to be completed by 2033 but the colony was expected to be minimally functional by 2032.
2032: While 2031 had seen a reduction in the tensions between the great powers of the world there was no such luck in 2032. A series of economic upheavals in unaffiliated and nonaligned nations created a mass of economic refugees which strained the infrastructure of the European Union. The eventual solution that the European Union implemented was a complete and total shutdown of its porous borders.
Economic refugees attempted to migrate from Russia, most of the countries of Africa, the Balkans, and South America. By the end of 2032 the United Nations estimated that there were close to 1 billion refugees through either environmental or economic catastrophe. These refugees went from country to country attempting to find asylum and set down roots but they were turned away in most instances. At the same time there was a shortage of manpower in many countries including the United States and Japan. These economic powerhouses which had closed their borders to immigration now found that their native populations have begun to grow old and place a burden upon their social welfare systems. Taxes had become burdensome upon the working populations which led to a spiral of economic uncertainty and instability.
Further economic instability led to a seeking out of new sources of economic growth no matter how marginal they may be. Foreign direct investment was directed to nonmember countries in Africa and South America. Again, tensions arose between the Asian Bloc and North American Confederation in these two continents. The flashpoint for 2032 happened in South Africa where a dispute between the Sino mining conglomerate and the multinational mining operation known as ALPAC reached a head. ALPAC was based out of the North American Confederation. And after a protracted struggle between security forces for both corporations led to a stalemate the country of South Africa saw contingents of soldiers and Armed Forces lending and arriving from both member nations. By December 31, 2032, the United Nations once again sought to calm tensions. They were unsuccessful.
2033: Historians are unclear as to what the exact incident that prompted the engagement between North American Confederation forces and the Asian Bloc forces outside of the city of Johannesburg. However within a matter of 48 hours the conflict that escalated to the point where airstrikes were being carried out from North American aircraft carriers off the coast of South Africa. This led to Asian Bloc retaliation against American forces in South Korea. The American forces had not yet completely left the South Korean Peninsula and there was a token force left in the outskirts of Seoul and a very token US military base. This base was attacked in retaliation for the attacks that devastated the Asian Bloc forces in South Africa. On January 3, 2033 war was formally declared between the North American Confederation and the Asian Bloc. On January 4, the European Union acting on a unanimous vote condemned the actions of the Asian Bloc, recalled its diplomats, and declared a state of war. On January 5, the Russian Federation declared war on the North American Confederation and the European Union and began their invasion of Eastern Europe. On January 6, the president of the United States and the speaker for the North American Confederation warned against further incursions into Eastern Europe citing that the North American Confederation as well as NATO were committed to preserving the national sovereignty of the eastern member states. The president went on to state that no action was off the table. On January 7, European Union forces engaged the Russian Federation outside of the city of Warsaw. Within 24 hours both sides have utilized tactical nuclear weapons. Within two hours after the first nuclear detonation several intercontinental ballistic missiles were launched from Asian member states towards the continental United States. In retaliation several US Trident class submarines launched a nuclear attack against the Asian bloc. While most powers at this point had conceived of and executed a missile shield it was not wholly successful. The resulting nuclear devastation wiped out the cities of Chengdu, Shanghai, San Diego, Brussels, Washington DC, Hong Kong, Beijing, Moscow, Warsaw, St. Petersburg, New Delhi, Seoul, and Tokyo. Conventional forces from all belligerent powers continue to fight for the remainder of 2033. However, after the initial nuclear exchange the fighting was far from organized or effective.
2034: It was revealed in a series of articles and exposés the key government officials from all belligerent powers had devised a continuity of government strategy in which officials and certain key players as well as important citizens had been relocated into orbiting space shuttles as well as space stations and secret colonies on both the moon and Mars. Upon acknowledgment of this fact citizens and all belligerent nations sought to leave the devastation that surrounded them and seek safe refuge in space by the end of 2030. A booming market for shuttling refugees to Mars had opened up led by Pan Solaris.
2035: In the wake of nuclear attacks in an effort to destabilize the opposing powers a series of chemical and biological weapons were deployed against the civilian populations of each nation state. By the end of 2035 most of the crop yielding regions of the world had been made barren. The resulting famines killed millions. Food production was now vital national strategic interest which is now being targeted by hostile forces. No invasion of the US mainland occurred by any foreign power but the central valley of California and the Great Plains were made inhospitable for the growing of fruit. This resulted in massive shortages within the North American Confederation which led to retaliatory strikes of biological weapons upon the rice growing and other fertile areas of Southeast Asia and India. By the end of 2036 the United Nations had estimated that roughly 500 million people had died of famine, biological weapons, disease, malnourishment, and other associated factors. This coupled with the hundreds of millions of deaths from the nuclear exchange led to the final ceasing of hostilities and signing of an armistice in the neutral country of Switzerland. On September 5, 2035 an agreement was reached between all warring factions in the city of Geneva. The representatives of the powers acknowledged that they were severely depopulated, operating on crumbling infrastructure and unable to continue governing their large populations.
2036: With the official end of the war, now known as the Third World War, the war weary and bombed out populations of the world sought to rebuild their broken civilizations. However, by mid-2036 the governments of the Russian Federation and the Asian Bloc collapsed under the strain of too many refugees and too few resources. A desperate quest by self-interested parties led to a state of civil war through much of Eurasia.
The European Union suffered as well with the dissolution of the political union and the breakdown of most national governments. Ethnic cleansing and a deep xenophobia took hold and much of central and southern Europe. Governance had devolved to the local level as cities and communities struggled with intermittent power, radioactive fallout, polluted water, famine and disease.
In the North American Confederation much of the United States was under a thick cloud of radioactive ash with many refugees streaming towards the West Coast the South West corner of the United States as well as to Mexico and Canada. National government, in fact any sort of government had collapsed as officials attempted to size up the damage and prioritize reasserting control and bringing back law and order. The results saw numerous incidents of civil strife and sectional violence. Numerous governments attempted to bring order but each collapsed in a successive wave of violence. This was known as the post-atomic horror.
2037: The Taylor Corporation operating with Pan Solaris established an economic free-trade zone near the free city of San Francisco. There was no state government or national government and the Taylor Corporation began to provide basic services. Within months law and order had been restored to a minimum within much of northern California. Similar occurrences happen throughout the world as private enterprise began to step in to the void left by collapsed governments.
In one of its last acts, representatives of 87 countries out of the 185 and the United Nations voted to dissolve its body.
2038: By the middle of 2038 much of the hopes and dreams of the survivors of the Third World War rested on securing enough funds to purchase a ticket to move to a Martian colony. The end of hostilities did not mean the end of violence as terrorism and civil war ravaged many nations. But by the end of 2038 most of the nations that had collapsed governments had begun to achieve some modicum of control by reestablishing governments either in space or in alternate locations. The provisional government for the North American Confederation was set in Vancouver which had escaped the effects of the nuclear exchange and emerge stronger as a result. One of the first acts of the North American Confederation was to form a union with the European Union. By the end of 2038 the great powers of the world, the North American Confederation, the European Union, the Asian Bloc, and the Russian Federation agreed to a summit in Geneva, Switzerland.
2039: After one year of negotiations a provisional international body known as the Terran Council was established by the signatories to the Geneva Accords. The Terran Council was charged with pacifying and bringing peace to areas of the world that were still in unrest—large sections of Europe, Africa, Southeast Asia, western China, South America, Middle East, the southwest and central United States, and the Indian subcontinent. Member nations agreed to pool resources and reduce violence and instability in areas that had spun out of control during the war.
2040: By the end of 2040 large sections of much of the world had been pacified by joint operations between former belligerent nations. A measure of peace was brought to large segments of the planet. But this did not mean an end to suffering as famine and disease continue to ravage populations-the byproduct of technological, biological, nuclear, and chemical warfare from several years prior.
2041: The Terran Council launched the first joint space expedition towards Mars to set up a base colony that would act as a refueling point for ships headed for the asteroid belt. The ships would be crewed by workers who would mine asteroids for rare earth elements needed for the rebuilding effort. The Terran Council also began the long process of attempting to rebuild pacified areas. The destruction of existing power and infrastructure meant that in many instances the Council was funding projects that advanced growth in propulsion, solar energy capture, food growth, and the ability to fight disease.
2042: A formal signing of Accords between member nations of the Terran Council to work cooperatively to both colonize space as well as contribute resources from their endeavors towards rebuilding the planet was signed. A fund was created and officials appointed to oversee the men and material that would carry out this task. This force was known as the Terran Armada.
2047: The first Terran Council colony is set on the moon. Comprised of 35 scientists and technicians from 15 nations the colony is hailed as a steppingstone towards a greater unified humanity.
Severe environmental and ecological hardship continue for the majority of the world’s population. The view of space as an escape from the ravages of planet Earth are seen as but a glimmer of hope, one that is available only to the wealthy few.
The Astra Corporation announces the creation of several manned space stations and bases that are able to be supplied by a new form of power allowing colonies not just on Mars but as far away as orbiting Jupiter.
The Taylor Corporation announces the creation in five years’ time of a listening post and supply base on Pluto. The stage is set for humanity to leave the Sol system.
2048: the Terran Council announces a set of minimum guidelines and standards for each member nation in the areas of human rights, ecological preservation, rebuilding efforts, civil liberties, and rule of law. The participating countries include the United States, Canada, Great Britain, France, Germany, Italy, Switzerland, Spain, Portugal, India, China, Russia, Singapore, Australia, New Zealand, Brazil, Mexico, and Japan.
2049: the number of colonists on Mars now exceeds 10,000 people. Pan Solaris announces that by 2055 they intend to relocate over 50,000 people from Earth to Mars.
The Terran Armada is fully operational with a very small fleet that begins to patrol the area of space between Earth, the moon, Mars, and Jupiter. The first manned space flight to the edge of the solar system is conducted as results are reported back. Asteroid belt mining and energy collection is now conducted by over 50 corporations. Scientists reevaluate the length of time needed from 1000 years to 500 years for the complete rebuilding of the planet Earth to pre-World War III levels.
2050: The Taylor corporation begins the groundwork and the initial groundbreaking of the Pluto colony. In a novel public-private partnership the Taylor Corporation receives funding as well as assistance in construction from the Terran Council. The Terran Armada provide support to Taylor Corporation space ships that travel to Pluto and back.
The Terran Council membership grows to over 60 nations on planet Earth. Chief among the resolutions are covenants to lower trade barriers and eventually eliminate them by 2075 as well as greater political integration. Unlike prior attempts to do so in the past that have failed through other intergovernmental organizations the attempts this time are successful and not thwarted by ultranationalist groups who seek to preserve their own national sovereignty. Many current events observers speculate that the advent of the Third World War has raised the specter of human extinction in the eyes of the doubters of past experiments and global unification. What is key now is this war-ravaged planet’s survival. And the only way to survive at this point is for humanity to come together and work towards a common purpose.
2052: interstellar solar energy capture becomes a tried and true tactic for storing and supplying energy to planet Earth. The practice is pioneered and perfected and by 2052 in widespread distribution by the Minerva Enterprises organization. Granted exclusive contracts by the Terran Armada, Minerva Enterprises enters into a period of expansion where they provide solar-based power and fuel cells to Terran colonies on Luna, Mars, as well as orbiting space stations orbiting Earth, Mars, and Jupiter.
The Terran Armada begins active patrol of the solar system.
Terran Union
The Terran Union is the political union that represents the majority of humanity in the Pax Aeterna universe. The main political, cultural, administrative, defensive, and logistics hub of the Terran Union is located on the planet Earth.
The Terran Union is a constitutional republic as per its founding charter but has been described by many observers as a corporate republic. The Union is led by a president who is elected to a six-year term and must then vacate office after the end of that term. The president occupies the executive office and is the face of and representative of humanity to the galaxy. The president operates in a system of checks and balances with the Terran Council comprising the main legislative body of the Union. The Terran Council is comprised of representatives from colony worlds as well as representatives of member nations on the planet Earth.
Determine Union first achieved political consciousness as an outgrowth of the Terran Council as humanity began to expand into the stars and form colony worlds. The actual foundation of the political union occurred in 2063 as the final nation states on planet Earth joined into a unified humanity.
The Terran Union utilizes the Terran Armada for all military, diplomatic, exploratory, scientific, and cultural activities and outreach on behalf of the Union.
The Council of Corporations is an unofficial advisory Council to the office of the president of the Union. The Council of corporations is formed by representatives of the major corporations within the Union and number and 100 representatives.
The Union encompasses 45 billion people spread out over 198 colony worlds over 197 light years. The Outer Colonies form a political counterpoint to the Terran Union after having broken away in 2123 during a conflict known as The Schism.
One of the primary tasks of the Terran Union, indeed the task that was the primary cause of the Schism was the responsibility placed upon the Union and rebuilding the planet Earth after the Third World War. Rebuilding efforts to date have focused on extraction of minerals, ores, and other manufactured and natural resources from colony worlds for transport back to Earth. However, the Union also funds and develops scientific and technological breakthroughs that have greatly sped up the pace of the rebuilding on Terra.
The Union is also tasked with regulating the activities of the profit-making corporations that serve at times as proxies for the Terran Armada.
The Union operates a wide variety of social welfare and administrative tasks designed to raise the standard of living for humans within the political union.
Terran Armada
The Terran Armada is the exploratory, military, scientific, and engineering arm of the Terran Union. The Armada was first launched in 2050 by a declaration from the Terran Council. It has since evolved to grow into the method by which the Terran Union imposes law and order, patrol space, keeps the peace, and defends its citizens. The Armada consists of starships, star bases, planetary bases, deep space stations, listening posts, as well as administrative offices spread out throughout the Union. The two key administrative centers of the Terran Armada exist on the planet Earth as well as the colony world of New Washington.
The exact number of starships are not specified within the Pax Aeterna universe since over 150 years of shipbuilding, mothballing, and retrofit have occurred. However, the Armada has maintained a fighting force during that time that at first protected its citizens from pirates, as well as other stellar phenomenon that pose threats. During the time of the Schism between the Outer Colonies and Terra, the Armada was called upon to impose law and order in systems that were in open rebellion as well as to press the offensive and defend the core star systems. After the Schism the Armada was tasked with patrolling the border with the Outer Colonies. After first contact with the Sonali, the Armada was called to defend the Union as well as prosecute the five-year war that ensued.
The Armada is not just a military vehicle for the Union, but also an exploratory and scientific vehicle as well. It carries out a host of exploratory and scientific measures that include charting new star systems, studying cosmic phenomenon, as well as assisting colony worlds with either unprecedented or routine maintenance and upgrades. Chief among the notable accomplishments outside of the military sphere of the Armada include the mapping of space routes, the establishment of trading and shipping lanes through space, assistance in terraforming planets, protecting against piracy, and working with the various corporate fleets to ensure tranquility throughout the Union.
The Armada was weakened severely during the Earth-Sonali War. Approximately 25% of the fighting force was destroyed. It was the first nonhuman conflict that the Armada had endured, with prior engagements for over the last hundred years limited to border skirmishes with the Outer Colonies as well as preventing piracy.
The Armada maintains an Academy for officers on both the planet Earth as well as the colony world of New Washington. It maintains administrative offices that oversee several sectors on New Washington.
Those who wish to join the Armada can do so through two means. They can enlist to serve in a variety of capacities with the Armada. Those who seek to achieve specialized skills or servant leadership or positions of more responsibility must enter through the Armada Academy on either Tara or New Washington. The Academy is a five-year program with exacting entrance requirements of both a mental and physical nature. The Academy is widely respected for its teaching and its training of the next generation of leaders within the Armada.
The technological advancements of Armada starships were jumpstarted during two conflicts-the Schism with the Outer Colonies, and the Earth-Sonali War. The latter conflict saw significant technological breakthroughs in the areas of all offensive and defensive capabilities as well as other technological breakthroughs which have in turn been used for more peaceful endeavors including the rebuilding of Earth from the damage caused by the Third World War.
The Armada has in fact since its inception been credited with lowering the time required to rebuild the planet Earth from the ravages of the nuclear war in half. The scientific opportunities available through the exploration of space have been harnessed through coordinated efforts between the Terran Armada as well as other institutions within the Terran Union including the various corporations that have a seat on the Terran Corporate Council.
The Armada also has a diplomatic arm which works hand-in-hand with the Terran diplomatic corps.
The Terran Armada is generally at a significant advantage when compared to the decentralized fighting capabilities of the Outer Colonies. And while the first two years of the Earth-Sonali War saw the Terran Armada outmatched and outgunned by the Sonali, by the end of the conflict the fleet approached something close to parity with their opposing forces.
The Armada receives funding that is directly tied to the budget worked on by the president of the Terran Union as well as the Terran Council. As such the Armada has at times been subjected to the politics of the day running of the Terran Union. The Armada is one of the most respected institutions within the Terran Union with most citizens saying that it exists as a force for good in the galaxy.
While the Armada is comprised of a primarily military air the founding charter of the Armada as well as its core principles state that the chain of command reports directly to a civilian overseer who is the Commander-in-Chief of the Terran Armada, occupying the seat of President of the Terran Union.
The Armada maintains an intelligence department conducts intelligence operations both within the Terran Union as well as within foreign powers.
Encyclopedia Aeterna Volume 2
Political Maps of the Orion Cluster of the Milky Way Galaxy
Timeline of the Earth-Sonali War
Timeline of Earth-Sonali War 2197-2201
2197:
July Edoris Station stops receiving communications from TUS Mariner - a scientific vessel on a mission to explore the Anderson Nebula.
Captain Montgomery of TUS Seeker is assigned by Admiral Flynn of the Terran Armada to locate the whereabouts of the missing TUS Mariner.
August TUS-Seeker finds wreckage of TUS Mariner near the Anderson Nebula. Unique energy signatures of the remaining debris suggests a weapon of destruction previously unknown to the Terran Armada. First Contact: While investigating the remains of TUS Mariner, Captain Montgomery makes first contact with the Sonali. The Sonali are a tall humanoid blue-skinned alien race. Captain Montgomery speaks with Command Legate Ghosal of the Sonali regarding the destruction of TUS Mariner. Legate Ghosal says the Sonali are not responsible for the destruction of TUS Mariner. However, Legate Ghosal orders Captain Montgomery to leave or be destroyed. Facing superior firing power from the Sonali ship, Captain Montgomery retreats.
Admiral Flynn presents Captain Montgomery's report to the Terran Union regarding the destruction of TUS Mariner and first contact with the Sonali.
Despite the confidentially surrounding Captain Montgomery's report, word leaks to the public that TUS Mariner has been destroyed and first contact has been made with the Sonali.
September An official report is released to the public. Given the uncertainty surrounding the fate of TUS Mariner and the proximity of the Sonali to its destruction - public outcry reaches a fever pitch demanding answers and justice for the lost crew of TUS Mariner.
October Terran Union dispatches a 100-ship fleet to investigate the debris of TUS Mariner. The fleet makes contact with Command Legate Laloli of the Sonali. History repeats as she states that the Sonali are not responsible for the destruction of the Mariner and tells the Terran Armada fleet to leave or face attack. The Terran fleet refuses to leave. Legate Laloli fires on the fleet destroying more than half of the Terran ships including: The Maverick, The Aurora, The Iris, The Magus, The Lysander, The Griffin, The Mercury, The H.R. Wells, The Santa Maria, The Hornet, The York, The Wesley, and The Lexington. Surviving ships include: The Celestia. November Sonali war ships begin attack and invasion of Edoris sector settlements: Solange, Mavis, Zion, and Halcyon. Terran Armada begins to establish diplomatic relations with the other alien species.
December A fleet of Terran war frigates surround two Sonali ships TUS Malai and TUS Gre'nai. Concentrated fire by the Terran fleet severely damages both Sonali ships. However, Terran losses negate this as a true "win."
2198:
January Six months after first contact Terran Armada officially declares war on the Sonali.
Plans are proposed for weapons manufacture on Earth coupled with aggressive R&D to catch up to Sonali military prowess.
February Sonali expand their invasion in Edoris sector. Colonies taken include: Calypso, Gamma and Logan.
March Loss of TUS Terror to Sonali at Azukene colony. However, before the ship was swarmed by Sonali the crew murdered the captain in a mutinous move opposing the captain's plan to do a suicidal ram into the Sonali warship. The last moments of TUS Terror as well as the munity were recorded and delivered via automated slipstream log.
May After the incident with TUS Terror - Terran Armada instigates security officers to be posted on all ships to protect Captains.
June "Remember the Mariner!" becomes a unifying chant on Earth. Record numbers of Terrans enlist at the Academy in order to train and join the war effort.
July For the first time in 1,000 years Terrans return to nomadic roots, traveling in small caravans between settlements to avoid attack by Sonali forces. However, it is soon apparent that daytime exodus equals heavy losses as Sonali ships cut down fleeing Terrans indiscriminately. To avoid this danger some settlements near the border empty overnight.
August Sonali attacks on border colonies continues.
September A candle-light vigil is held by civilians in remembrance of TUS Mariner on the anniversary of the official announcement of its loss.
October "Sacred Vow" offensive is launched by Terran Armada in an attempt to halt Sonali encroachment in the Edoris Sector. Due to loss of half of the attacking Terran fleet to Sonali forces and overall failure the offensive is dubbed "Sacred Cow" in civilian circles denoting a loss of hope regarding the war effort.
November The Sonali continue to conquer and invade settlements on different planets. Despite Terran resistance, the Sonali maintain dominance on overall destruction and causalities.
December While on patrol TUS Shrike discovers a damaged, but intact Sonali ship. The recovery of this ship marks the first opportunity for research into Sonali technology.
2199:
January The vessel is delivered to Terran Armada for research.
February Sonali forces destroy the following colonies in Edoris sector: Nurtura, Cassis, and Bathory.
March Settlements lost to Sonali: Esme, Carlise, and Laront.
April Settlements lost to Sonali: Tamarin, Solaris, Calliope, and Ferris.
June Settlements captured by Sonali: Langley, Benedict, and Mathis.
July-August The Sonali begin a series of seemingly random attacks on a consistent basis. They become known as "death drops" because the Sonali would come out of FTL over a Terran colony and repeatedly drop firebombs until it was leveled. Then they would resume FTL back to Sonali space. The assaults were unpredictable and devastating.
September "Operation Quake" was a covert mission designed to capture Sonali communications relays in the hopes of determining the locations of future "death drops." Captain Wolf of TUS Exeter was sent on this mission with the directive to come out of FTL and take position behind a Sonali fleet to deploy the probes (the probes would be disguised as space debris). Once in place the probes would relay communications back to Terran headquarters. However, one of the engineering officers Yuang Fa was a Sonali sympathizer; he hacked the ship's A.I.'s and murdered a crew mate to sabotage the mission.
October-December Terran Armada launch "Operation Zodiac." Operation Zodiac (aka"Oz") - was a fleet of self-replicating drones deployed to form a blockade of mines in constant FTL orbit. In order to the fill the blockade area the drones were able to harvest needed materials in space to increase their numbers. A ship moving at non-FTL speed across the mine field would not be affected as it would phase through at a different frequency than the mines. However, a fleet entering the blockade in FTL would trigger the mines. Upon detonation each mine releases a fusillade of shrapnel. The success of "Operation Zodiac" marks the first time in the Earth-Sonali war that Terrans are able to deliver consecutive blows to the Sonali without suffering immense causalities. This routing of Sonali forces by Terrans revitalizes the war effort at home and abroad.
2200:
January-March To counter "Operation Zodiac" the Sonali launch FTL drones into the mine fields to detonate and destroy the blockades. The Sonali are able to "punch holes" in the blockades using these measures. However, the first three months of solid success by "OZ" mark a turning point for Terran forces.
June Based on intel recovered by a group of mercenaries on Edoris -Terran Armada launches a second wave of self-replicating drones to form a blockade above New Sydney. This second offensive "Operation Xanthe" (aka "OX") creates an effective barrier allowing ground forces to evacuate civilians from impending attack.
July-August After three years of research and development (that included reverse engineering captured Sonali technology), the start of year four of the war finds Terran Armada military capabilities on par with both offensive and defensive Sonali weaponry.
Reactions to this new military equality vary on each homefront:
•Terrans, already accustomed to significant causalities, react positively to these new "wins" against their enemy. Chants of "Remember the Mariner!" resurge as does pride in the military.
•Sonali citizens begin to question the war and have concerns regarding their daily life now that the enemy has become a real threat. Spurred by this new perspective, Sonali Scholars begin earnest research into a species that can no longer be categorized merely as "primitive aggressors".
September-December Battles between the matched forces of Terran and Sonali military result in longer battles with significant loss of life on both sides.
Terran Ships Missing or Destroyed include: TUS Zenith, TUS Cyclone, TUS Hurricane, TUS Tornado, TUS Virgil, TUS Messenger, TUS Carolina, TUS Dynasty, TUS Eckard, TUS Franklin, TUS Claude, and TUS Marseille.
Sonali Ships Destroyed include: La'na, S'elal, M'alei, La'asi, Ka'era, S'hai, T'lan, M'hida, C'mei, F'ali, D'aie, and A'hai.
2201:
January After five months of dealing with a "stalemate of destruction", both Sonali and Terrans begin covert operations to discover alternative means of winning the war. Recovered paperwork and/or testimony from Sonali and Terrans are the only existing proof of such activities during the war. It should be noted that military on both sides refuse to comment and deny the existence of these projects.
February Omega Project: Designed to enhance Terran abilities due to the injection of a series of sophisticated nanites. One goal of the project was to increase Terran adaptability to extreme environmental changes, in particular the low-oxygen high argon atmosphere of Sonali. Test subject 01 results were found superior to all other subjects.
April Devanagari Project- Sonali project to create air-borne parasites queued to Terran physiology. Personal logs (original recordings lost) kept by Sonali scientists describe the creation of a parasitic entity designed to attack Terrans-only. Testimony by a scientist on the project said they successfully created the phage with plans to deploy it via introduction into the atmosphere of large Terran cities. However, the war came to an end before the phage was deployed on a wide scale (per testimony of scientist). Despite this testimony rumors persist that select Terran colonies met their demise via use of this lethal parasitic invasion.
May "Operation Zephyr" was a covert message system based on the American Indian language of Tuscarora. However, Terran Armada Counter Intelligence discovered that the coded messages were compromised. Terran Armada uses this opportunity to send out false messages regarding the location of a military convoy. Sonali war ships came out of FTL with plans to converge on a ship full of high-ranking military officials. Instead they find a "dummy" ship that detonates destroying the entire fleet.
June Terran Armada decides to carry out the "Wolf Offensive". This dramatic action involves 'glassing' Beta Hydrae III - a densely populated region of Sonali.
Captain Montgomery is tasked with leading a counter-offensive. However, he still has questions regarding the Sonali's role in the destruction of TUS Mariner. Poised on the brink of genocide, Captain Montgomery returns to the location of the debris from TUS Mariner to investigate further.
Instead of meeting the Sonali, Captain Montgomery meets and speaks with another species the Nakra who admit that they destroyed TUS Mariner all those years ago. Their reasoning was that this area of space i.e. the nebula is their homeworld and must be kept sacred and secret; any species that trespass are not allowed to leave as they would reveal what they found. Thus, TUS Mariner had to be dispatched in an attempt to stay hidden.
Ullian of the Nakra tells Captain Montgomery he regrets his next actions; however, he must destroy TUS Seeker as he did TUS Mariner to protect his people. A battle ensues where TUS Seeker eventually has the upper hand insofar as the aliens have suffered great losses. At that time Ullian of the Nakra accepts Captain Montgomery's promise to leave them alone.
Realizing that the Sonali are guilt-less and that the war should never have started, Captain Montgomery rushes to the location of the large-scale attack between the Sonali and Terrans. Captain Montgomery opens a communication channel between the two warring sides: he reveals that the Sonali were innocent of the destruction of TUS Mariner and that the war was "predicated on a lie."
July Terrans and Sonali agree to a cease fire under the "Mariner Armistice."
2202:
February Seven months later, after numerous negotiations and meetings between both sides, an official peace treaty "The Mariner Accords" between Terran Armada and the Sonali is agreed upon and signed putting an official end to the five-year war. In addition, a provision is made within the treaty to protect the nebula of the Nakra homeworld from incursion from any and all alien species.
The five-year Earth-Sonali War was the worst conflict either side had every experienced in history.
Terran Union: Lives lost: 4 billion Number of surviving colonies: 153 colonies out of 198 Loss of overall military force: 25%
Sonali Combine: Lives lost: 5 billion Number of surviving colonies: 102 Loss of military forces: 18%
Sonali Combine
Physical Description
Humanoid (two eyes, nose, mouth and two legs); however, they have facial slits instead of ears. Average height 6' tall. Hairless. Body color is a uniform pale blue with some darker gradients of blue on the face. Their lifespan is approximately 80-90 years
Anatomy/Physiology
Females and males possess the same sexual organs as Terran females and males. Sonali reproduce sexually; however, their path to reproduction is complex. The Sonali are sequential hermaphrodites – they are born one gender and at sexual maturity they switch. The process by is called "Ascension." At the age of 18 (Terran years) the Sonali are put through the Ascension ceremony. Although the specifics of the transformation are unknown to outsiders the following is known:
•Sonali are born gendered; however they are also born sterile
•It is only by going through Ascension that the Sonali become fertile
•By switching genders at maturity their bodies receive a signal to "turn on" the faculties needed to reproduce i.e. ovulation and sperm production
•Before the baby is born it is incubated outside the body until birth
•It is speculated, but unknown if this incubation influences the birth gender
Culture
The Sonali are a technologically advanced race especially with regard to weaponry. In first contact with Terran Union they had a much greater advantage when it came to combat. Although their society has no record of war amongst itself, the Sonali have devoted a great deal to defense due to their disdain for most other species based on the belief that many are not intelligent enough to warrant contact. In addition they guard their advances in medicine, science and other fields closely.
Interactions with Terrans were initially only within combat situations. However, once the war ended, the Sonali were willing to cooperate with the Terrans regarding establishing a galactic council.
Politics/Governance
A younger generation (pre-Ascesnion age) of the Sonali have formed the Origin Movement pushing for the end of mandatory Ascension. Their belief is that changing gender, or staying with your birth gender should be an individual choice. They also believe that this decision goes hand-in-hand with the additional choice whether to procreate or not.
Concerns for the future of the Sonali race are driving another group (Post-Ascension age) to argue for the continuation of Ascension both as a cultural tradition and as a necessity for survival of the species. This group called the Ascendents believes that the anti-ascension generation have been influenced by Terrans. They believe that the short-sightedness of Terran society with regard to its own survival and its condition of static gender have "infected" the young Sonali with these ideas. The Sonali population is steady; however, there is fear of its decline should large numbers of the young choose to remain sterile.
Sonali Caste System
The Sonali has a five-tier caste system based on vocation: Military, Religious, Scholar, Labor, and Merchant. The caste system was created to insure diversity and regulation of the Sonali workforce over time.
Sonali from different castes may marry; in this situation, the children may pick the vocation of either parent. However, some Sonali still feel oppressed by having to choose the mandated career paths that are inherited at birth.
As an example, a Sonali teenager born into a religious/scholar household may feel oppressed if he/she wants to be a merchant or join the military. Another issue with the caste system is the unofficial hierarchy it creates between each type of caste.
The Military Caste
The military caste is considered as the highest authority when it comes to matters of law enforcement, regulation of alien (Terran) occupation and other related policies. It is very common to see high-ranking military officials serve in political positions increasing military influence on planetary policy.
Members of the military caste tend to view themselves as the highest authority on all matters: period. Thus, other castes are often given grudging respect or approval when supporting matters that conflict with military decisions. While other castes may not share the military’s view that they are the “top”, they do afford them a great deal of respect. It should be noted that Sonali civilians give particular deference to military personnel that distinguished themselves during the Earth-Sonali war.
The Scholar Caste
Although they may focus on different areas of study, the goal of the Scholar Caste is the same: the acquisition of knowledge for posterity and the overall benefit of the Sonali race.
The Scholar Caste includes teachers, scientists, researchers and xenoarchaeologists.
Xenoarchaeologists tend to focus on finding evidence of the “precursor theory of origin” that the Sonali were engineered a long time ago by a superior race that no longer exists or has left this galaxy. Typically, they split their time between fieldwork to uncover new artifacts and researching and categorizing the artifacts they have already acquired. They often share their findings with scientists since working together they can achieve more, although not all are as open with their research and choose instead to keep their finds to themselves.
Scientists research a variety of subjects including Sonali biology, Psychology, the Ascension process as well as research into the precursor theory. Despite protests to the contrary, rumors persist regarding the development of parasitic weapons during the Earth-Sonali war.
Teachers are less concerned with the acquisition of new knowledge or where the knowledge they have come from or by what means. They attempt to keep any personal bias out of their delivery of acquired information. All of the knowledge they are allowed to teach younger generations of Sonali must be approved and recorded. Once information is in written or digital form it is considered part of the accepted curriculum. Each year The Council of Teachers meets to approve any revisions or additions to the curriculum. A majority vote must occur for any changes/additions to be finalized. Colleges do not exist on Sonali due to caste system.
Once maturity is reached a Sonali youth receives mentorship in their new career from one of their parents. It is through this study that they attain position in their caste. Of all the factions within the scholar caste, teachers receive the most scrutiny from Sonali society and often the most criticism. Although the Council of Teachers may agree upon an acceptable curriculum, other Sonali (even some within the caste) may protest certain subjects being taught to young Sonali.
The subject of Ascension has historically polarized the religion and scholar castes. The religious caste protests the scientific process being taught; instead, they believe that only religious reasons exist for Ascension and therefore should be taught singly. Scholars argue for the teaching of both.
In recent years a new schism had developed regarding the belief that Ascension should not be a mandatory process. Therefore the teaching of it has come under even greater scrutiny from both sides of the Ascension argument that fear potential bias in how it is taught to students.
To rectify this situation The Council of Teachers has currently put a moratorium on any Ascension teaching, instead it is leaving the subject to parents to advise their children. Harsh criticism for this decision has many Sonali angry with The Council as well as the scholar caste in general; however, those who have welcomed the decision to teach their children their beliefs outnumber this group.
The Religious Caste
The Religious Caste mainly follows “The Way”, which was founded circa 1000 BCE by followers of a man named Xorrig, a post-ascension male who was known in his time as a poet, philosopher and teacher. During his life Xorrig lived outdoors as a shepherd and said he received visions from a supreme being. He composed poetry based on these visions and encouraged others to adopt his teachings to live simply and be kind. It is speculated that his visions may have come from a root he chewed frequently that had known hallucinogenic properties.
Xorrig died after suffering from exhaustion and starvation when he followed a vision into a wasteland.
His teachings had attracted a handful of followers, one particularly one named Aricanthas, who devoted herself to preserving his ideas, which became known as The Way, or Xorrigism. Xorrig himself was not revered as a god, but his status as a prophet was secure and his writings regarded as holy writ. The union of Xorrig and the supreme spiritual being he claimed to have been enlightened by was referred to as the Holy Combine. As The Way spread across the planet, growing in strength and influence, Temples dedicated to the Holy Combine were established in all major cities and in many villages. The largest one is located on Sonali Prime.
Xorrig’s teachings do not clearly state his stance or belief on the process of Ascension; however, Xorrig himself was a Post-Ascension male and Aricanthas his main acolyte remained a pre-Ascension female for the duration of her life.
There is a piece of poetry written by Xorrig that is thought to reference his viewpoints on Ascension:
Go forth into life with joy
and make simple choices
for The Supreme Being sees
and approves all actions
Origin Movement followers (anti-mandated Ascension) believe this poem speaks directly to the choice to Ascend or not to Ascend. However, others argue the poem is too ambiguous to assign a specific meaning.
The Merchant Caste
The Merchant Caste is considered to be the lowest caste. This is due to the belief that while commerce and trade are integral parts of society, the Sonali in this caste tend toward avarice. The merchant class denies that they do more than what is necessary to keep the business side of Sonali affairs thriving. Despite their low regard they are one of the few castes allowed to interact and move freely within other castes in the interest of trade.
It should be noted that there have been instances where members of this caste were able to gain information under cover of doing business with other castes. Any secret information they are able to gain under this guise of “trading” is turned around and put on an underground market to sell to the highest bidder. The merchant caste is also the only caste that does not have university courses that match its caste. Instead any young Sonali with a merchant parent is qualified to mentor under an existing merchant. Typically, this is a Sonali parent; however, in this caste more than others the young Sonali mentor with a non-family member. It is thought that this provides a more balanced view of the world and truly unbiased mentorship.
Another belief is that merchant parents wish to focus more on their own business transactions and see their children as possible future rivals. By placing their children with other Sonali merchants they are able to keep their trade secrets while likely using their children to uncover trade secrets of other merchant caste members. A mentorship is not required; however, having one provides the new Sonali merchants with a way to network and build his/her business more effectively than if they tried to do alone. Whether a Sonali mentor receives a wage during the mentorship is at the discretion of the mentee.
Tyreesian Collective
Physical Description
The Tyreesians are a humanoid race. They are naturally short, but strong. They are mostly four to five feet tall, with thin silky skins. The average Tyreesian male has a thick and sturdy build. They have slits for eyes and ears and a closed third eye on their forehead. They have four fingers on each hand and four toes on each leg. Their skin color varies widely, from coffee brown to sugar white. They are not an exactly hairy species, hence it is rare to see a Tyreesian possessing hairs (of any kind on any part of their body).
Anatomy/Physiology
Their entire anatomical and physiological system resembles that of Terrans. They also possess a beating heart and as well as sexual organs not unlike Terrans, both for male and female. Hence, interbreeding among Terrans and Tyreesians is very possible.
Culture
The Tyreesians are a patriarchal society, where the men make all the decisions and the women basically listen and do what they are told. There are no such things as women movements, and feminism isn’t even a word that exists in their vocabulary. They are a highly advanced race with a brain capacity that is naturally larger than Terrans. However, this increased brain capacity is one reason why they are naturally aggressive. The Tyreesians are also very cunning, and it is said that doing business with a Tyreesian is like doing business with a serpent. You don’t really know when they’re going to bite you in the back.
It is a taboo for a Tyreesian female to be unbound (what Terrans call unmarried). Marriage ceremonies are known as The Binding, where a Tyreesian female is bound for the duration of her life to a Tyreesian male. Because the Tyreesian female population is roughly higher than the Tyreesian males, it is not unusual to see a male Tyreesian being bound to more than one female Tyreesian. In fact, this is such a conquest that the more females you are bound to the more you are highly regarded in the society. Barbaric by many standards, especially Terran, but this is who they are. Politicians that will be very successful usually have as much as three females bound to them. Tyreesian female are unable to partake in any election, though they can vote.
Though Tyreesian females must be bound to a male (the lawful age for this to have happened is 25), Tyreesian males do not have to have a female bound to him. Usually, poor Tyreesian males find it difficult and as a result have a very low social standing.
Even though the females don’t have a voice, this does not preclude them from being major drivers of the entire Tyreesian society. A Tyreesian female can be involved in scientific research, trade, education, commerce—basically all spheres of the economy. However, the law forbids a Tyreesian female from occupying a position of power, such as Captain, Governor, or President. If she is appointed to such a position, as some can be because of their extreme aptitude, the female Tyreesian’s master (the male to which she is bound), will rule in her stead. In other words, she can only conduct her affairs by proxy. Of course, this is impracticable in positions that require quick reactions, like the Captain of a Ship or the Admiral of a Battle Fleet. As a result, the Tyreesian Army do not have a female Commander within its fleet.
Politics/Governance
The Tyreesian Collective runs a democratic system across their galactic space. They have a President and a Governor’s council. The governor’s council is the most powerful arm of their governmental system, while the President is really a ceremonial role—though, no one knows the true extent to which the President is powerful. The governor’s council is a council of all the governors within the galactic space and is headed by a chairman that is elected by the council and approved by the population-elected president. Every planet is sectioned off, and each section has a governor.
Elections hold every five years, and hence politics is a very active part of the Tyreesian Collective. In fact, because of their prodigious and seemingly unending ability to be cunning and sly, their political campaigns are usually riddled with maneuvers and tricks and twists that befuddle the un-Tyreesian mind. Many races have described this as watching a blockbuster movie—it’s almost unreal. This led some races to coin the expression “Tyreesian Politics”, which has become a galactic mainstay. Having a Tyreesian as a strategist, especially for peoples of other races, is most times seen as a harbinger of great and mighty success.
It is strictly forbidden for a Tyreesian female to contest for any public office, either for president, governor or lesser offices. It is also forbidden for a Tyreesian female to engage in political rallies, except at the side of her male master.
Some sociopolitical experts at the prestigious Tyreesian School of Social Science in the Central City of Zayon have theorized several reason why this is so. Basically, they believe that the cultural mind-washing that has been ongoing for centuries have relegated the females to a thinking that is weak and subordinative. Simply put, most Tyreesian females are unable to envision themselves as more than a male’s slave. These experts, however, predict an uprising that is most likely going to shake up the Tyreesian Collective and lead to the establishment of a new dynamism that may take centuries for the greater Tyreesian population to get used to. They believe that as the Tyreesians interface more and more with other races, the females will begin to think differently.
“Tyreesian Politics”: this is an expression that refers to the application of extreme cunning, tricks and sleights of hand to politics, much like what is obtainable in the worlds of the Tyreesian Collective.
Reznak Empire
Physical Description
They are a telepathic humanoid race with lightly furred bodies. They have a tail and two antennas on their forehead that resemble studs. They are tall and have a light bone mass, making them high jumpers, extremely athletic and very flexible. The females are distinguished by their whiskers, that many other species find attractive and in some cases arousing. The females also have a very powerful lower body. This is the major reason why Reznakian women are very highly priced as sex workers in some worlds. They possess well rounded eyes and mouth as well as a delicately sculptured snout.
NOTE: Though telepathic abilities vary, they are mostly very weak. There are some, however, who are able to exercise great telepathic powers.
Anatomy/Physiology
They have the usual systems: respiratory, circulatory, nervous etc. They have sexual organs much like any other humanoid race and hence are sexually compatible with them. The telepathic ability of the average Reznakian is weak and is only effective for a short range of a few yards. Also, any form of metal shielding can hinder this ability.
There are some Reznakians with telepathic abilities that are infinitely more powerful; these Reznakians form a secret order that answer only to the ruler of the society.
Culture
The Reznak Empire is very peaceful and peace loving. They are naturally calm and reasonable. They have an equal opportunity system that makes it possible for anyone, regardless of gender or social status to rise to any height within the Empire. Nevertheless, noble blood always gets priority.
The Reznak Empire has a very vast and powerful military. They are also a very prosperous people that have established trade programs with a number of other species. Most of the worlds within the Reznak Empire are beautiful and vacation destinations for many.
The Reznak Empire is also highly advanced in science and technology. They particularly have an expertise in matter transubstantiation, which is one major source of their extreme wealth as they have been able to produce in large transubstantiation facilities some of the ores and minerals that other races have to mine.
Till date, no other species has been able to replicate this technology. The Reznakians have not revealed the science behind this technology. It is said that only a handful of people actually know the science behind the technology—these are all members of the Royal Family.
Politics/Governance
The Reznak Empire runs a monarchial system of governance, with a monarch known as The Supreme, who rules in utter surety over the Empire. Each world within the Empire is ruled by a viceroy, who is a member of The Supreme’s Cabinet. Major sectors of the Reznak Empire are overseen by appointees of The Supreme. The Prime Minister is the one who directly oversees the different aspects of the day to day running of the Empire. The Prime Minister is the most powerful person in the Reznak Empire, second only to The Supreme. The Defense Minister is also extremely powerful and commands the entire military arm of the Empire, including all its internal security organs. Usually, the offices of the Prime Minister and Defense Minister are held by The Supreme’s offspring, which limits the distribution of power to within the Royal Family.
The Supreme may be male or female, depending on who is in the line of succession. A research conducted by the Royal Academy, the foremost, premier college of science in all the Empire, revealed that more Reznakian women than men have held the crown. This does not come as a surprise because the population of females is as high as four times the population of males. The current monarch of the Reznak is female and she is loved by all her people. Her first son is the Prime Minister, while her first daughter (the second child) is the Defense Minister and Commander of the Royal Fleet.
Irivani Hegemony
Irivan is a moon circling the gas giant planet Majriti in the binary Upsilon Andromedae system. It is the third planet of the F component star, Titawin, formerly Upsilon Andromedae A. Irivan is about 44 light years from Earth.
Physical Appearance
Physically the Irivani resemble tall (seven feet in height is not uncommon), thin apes with six limbs: four upper arms and two legs. Each limb ends in a hand: the upper hands and the “feet” have three fingers and a thumb, whereas the middle hands each possess four fingers and a thumb.
They have a pelt of short hair over a softer undercoat that serves to insulate them against the cold. They wear no protective clothing, save when they venture to the icy Irivani poles or out into space. They commonly wear belts bearing weapons, pouches or sporrans.
Physiology
The Irivani are warm-blooded oxygen breathers. They are triploid mammals, the three sexes being male, female, and irimale. Males and irimales are very difficult to tell apart because they comport themselves similarly. Each sex contributes one of three sets of chromosomes to the young, which are born alive.
World Geography & History
Irivan is a cloudy and rather cold world about the size of Mars, though extensively forested, with an atmospheric pressure nearly twice that of Earth. There are no seas, and only a few large lakes. Smaller bodies of water are common, however, and there are several long rivers.
The planet is not tectonically active; earthquakes and volcanic eruptions are rare, though there are major seasonal rain and snow storms.
Politics & Government
Civilization arose in several places on Irivan, always organized around a ruling king or queen who was often the most physically powerful member of a given tribe. Early societies based on hunting and gathering gave way to agricultural settlements, often in a feudal system presided over by a single monarch. Dynasties were common in certain regions, though some kings were overthrown in coups designed to establish proto-democracies. These experiments never lasted long; the Irivani have no taste for, nor skill, at democracy.
Irivani governments were theocracies for centuries. Although there were one or two exceptions of an essentially communist nature, most Irinavian states were headed by religious authorities, primarily Veddists (see below). Having pushed the theocrats out, however, liberal reformers have pushed the world’s governments to adopt universal Irivani rights. See below, Science & Technology and Society, for a more detailed discussion.
Society
Arboreal for most of their evolutionary history, the primitive Irivani descended from the trees following an asteroid strike that precipitated a worldwide catastrophe, killing off 99% of the moon’s forests. The pressure to survive in a post-apocalyptic environment set the Irivani on the road to intelligence.
Their religion was based on the worship of the Great Ved, who had created the universe and subsequently retired to live on Majriti (known to the Irivani as Veddash).
Though the distant stars—excepting Titawin itself—were only occasionally visible through rifts in the clouds enveloping their world, nearby Veddash was a constant presence in Irivan’s night skies. The moon’s forests returned slowly, but by the time they had returned to their original glory, the Irivani no longer wished to return to their primitive beginnings, although their mythology is full of pastoral tales. Instead, they established a thriving metropolitan culture in the trees, with outposts and settlements linked by a system of aerial roads and paths.
Fascinated by the flying abilities of the forests’ abundant avian organisms, the Irivani pursued their dream of flight until they perfected balloons, gliders and later, powered heavier-than-air flying machines. The moon’s thick atmosphere assisted in their efforts. Once able to rise into the relatively clear upper reaches of their atmosphere, Irivanian astronomy and cosmology began in earnest.
There had been clashes among the faithful for many years because fundamentalist Veddists would not relinquish their view of the stars. Even after the first expedition to Arrikiden returned to Irivan bearing rocks with strange devices embedded in their matrices, as well as the fossilized remains of alien creatures, the fundamentalists insisted that the fossils were fake, and that all reports of an ancient culture on the exoplanet were hoaxes. All members of the expedition were put to death.
This provoked a furious uprising of the Reformers, who massacred fundamentalist leaders and worshippers in their temples. A religious war exploded across Irivan, that did not burn itself out for nearly twenty standard years. When at last hostilities ceased, the Reformers were triumphant. From that time on, science and liberal thinking drove Irivanian life. However, the near-total extermination of irimales had lasting effects; the population plummeted, and the recovery to its vitality was slow. Irimale children were cosseted and protected, and often hidden away from public view by fearful parents. Regarded as chattels, a family’s irimales were forbidden to mix with greater society, and were jealously guarded and forced to procreate only with mates specifically chosen for them by family patriarchs.
Conservative forces have made great strides in the past century, however, with heads of state across Irivan becoming more beholden to Veddists ostensibly working for change but secretly working to return the entire planet to theocratic rule.
Science & Technology
Though there were no planets in the Titawinian system capable of supporting life like theirs, the Irivani were soon able to voyage to the binary system’s smaller component—an M-type red dwarf about 750 AU from Titawin itself. It is much farther than the distance from Sol to Uranus (just over 19 AU), but considerably less than the distance from Sol to Alpha Centauri (273,196.8 AU).
The first expedition found no intelligent life on the small, rocky worlds of Upsilon Andromedae B. But there were, to the astonishment of the expedition’s scientists, buried traces of an ancient civilization that had once flourished on one world—a now-lifeless rock named Arrikiden. This discovery energized the Irivanian scientific establishment, and spurred the development of technology that would enable explorers to journey to other, more distant, stars.
Moreover, the revelation that there had been other forms of intelligence in the universe, even if none existed now, provoked a backlash among faithful followers of the Great Ved, known as Veddists, many of whom were irimales. They believed that the Irivani alone were the pinnacle of creation. There could be no other advanced races; to suggest as much was heresy. Even to admit that there were other worlds beyond Irivan and Majriti was to invite scorn and approbation among the stricter Veddidts.
The holy writings of Ved—which were collected before the piercing of their atmosphere’s thick veil—taught that Majriti and its attendant satellites were the only other worlds in creation. The stars, glimpsed on rare occasions through rifts in the eternal cloud cover, were thought to be the sparks raised by the sacrificial fires lit by Ved on Majriti, as he slew his enemies by casting them into the flames. Soon, this belief was abandoned; the upper reaches of the atmosphere were explored by intrepid Irivanian aeronauts, systematically investigated by scientists and the true nature of the lights in the night skies were revealed.
Nonetheless, a schism developed between hardline fundamentalists and a more liberal group of scientifically minded Reformers, who were prepared to reconsider their position on the superiority of Irivani to all other life. Clearly, the fact that other intelligent life forms had developed a technological civilization hundreds of thousands of years before the Irivani even discovered fire meant that there could be other such races elsewhere in space. It was thought that there might even be beings whose cultures were far more advanced than the Irivani, and that these beings, could be receptive to evangelical efforts on the part of the Irivani.
Seyshallian Nation
Seyshall closely circles a non-variable red dwarf star, and has a year that measures less than a tenth of Earth’s. There are seven other planets in the Seyshallian system, none of which are capable of supporting life.
Physical Appearance
The Seyshallians are descended from cephalopod-like creatures. They resemble four-foot-tall lizards with four tentacle-like upper limbs. In form, they are similar to the Drupadi, though smaller. Some scientists speculate that the two races spring from a common ancestor, perhaps brought to both worlds as pets by the semi-mythical Precursors in ages past. Due to the low ambient light, their huge, tarsier-like eyes are particularly sensitive. On worlds with larger suns, they must wear protective lenses.
Anatomy/Physiology
The Sayshallians are cold-blooded egg-layers. The females are physically indistinguishable from males, save for the females’ ability to change their appearance through the use of specialized cells. Females have retained their ancestors’ ability to adjust the color, opacity, or reflectivity of their skin. They are prized as spies and scouts in battle.
Home World Geography & History
The Seyshallians’ ancestors were forced onto land when the oceans on their native world shrank drastically in the wake of a stellar cataclysm. The pressure to survive also kicked their intellectual development into high gear, intelligence being the key to their survival. Over a period of several thousand years the Seyshallians went from seaside-dwelling primitives, reliant on the ocean for their food, to sophisticated builders of monuments and tillers of the soil.
Politics & Government
Their primary form of government is feudalism. Each nation or state is ruled by a single powerful lord or king to whom lesser nobles swear fealty. These royal families are dynastic and can last for many centuries unless overcome from without or overcome from within. Many kingdoms are stable, while others are constantly under threat because of changing accords, often as a result of kinship or marriage. The line of descent is through the female.
Society
Seyshallians are naturally aggressive. After several disastrous early attempts to come together in large cities as their population expanded, their settlements never grew any larger than two or three hundred individuals. They have remained this size throughout their history. Consequently, their planet is dotted with many small villages and towns, in regions analogous to duchies. These duchies or principalities are overseen by rulers (see above) who scheme and strive and engage with each other in ever-shifting pragmatic alliances. Great lovers of ceremony, Seyshallians put on many festivals and have numerous holidays.
Having evolved into their current amphibious form, the Seyshallians live a partially land-based existence, with considerable time spent underwater. On land, they engage in mercantile and scientific pursuits, whereas beneath the oceans they hunt and grow their crops.
A Seyshallian rite of passage entails a young male venturing into the deeper oceanic rifts in search of a ferocious, sightless predator that lurks there. Many of these eager hunters never return. Those who do are rewarded with the girl of their choice from their native village. The females have nothing to say about this, and some are not happy to be thus chosen by the triumphant youth, who often comes back maimed from his trial and may need to be cared for. As a result, spousal homicide is not unknown, and the wild lands outside of some settlements have become a haven for females fleeing vengeful families. Determined males (or their families) will sometimes pursue the females even there.
They are also fanatical traders, and a Seyshallian is never happier than when he thinks he has wrangled a deal for himself.
Science & Technology
Masters of the biological sciences, Seyshallian sometimes attack enemy territory by means of engineered sea life, including flying jellyfish and specially grown carnivorous algae.
The Seyshallians, from the early days of their civilization, were fascinated by the possibilities of powered flight. Seyshallian scientists, through the pressures of war, developed powered rockets relatively early, when their overall culture was about on the same level as Earth’s in the Middle Ages. Though they never discovered the transistor, the Seyshallian nevertheless managed to claw their way into space using the computational power of a vacuum-tube-based technology.
A favorite saying among Seyshallian scientists is that their first great leap was on to dry land, and their second was into space. They discovered other star-faring species almost at once, through contact with the Children of Zorm and, through them, the Reznak Empire. Warned by the Children of possible negative effects on their psyche by Reznakian telepathy, the Seyshallians were prepared for withdrawal from contact but the oppressive mental emanations of the Reznakians had no effect whatsoever on the Seyshallians’ minds. Intrigued by the problem, the Seyshallians are conducting research into the effect.
Culture
Seyshallian are known to be skilled physicians and many find employment in the life and medical sciences. Some exiled females (see above) have even managed to win berths on starships, often at great peril to themselves, because it is not unknown for vengeful male relatives to follow them and even infiltrate a starship’s crew in order to kill the wayward female. These killings are regarded by the Seyshallians as purely family affairs.
Children of Zorm
This race of gentle bipeds is not based on a planet. The entire species--over two million individuals—live in a flotilla of ships and a swarm of hollowed-out asteroids circling 18 Scorpii, a main sequence G2 star about 45 light years from Earth. Zorm is one of only two worlds circling 18 Scorpii.
The Children of Zorm have resided in space for over a thousand years, while their planet, Zorm, a Mercury-sized planet with a thick atmosphere, undergoes an ice age. They plan to return to Zorm, however, when the ice recedes. In the meantime, they established themselves firmly in the asteroid belt, mining the rocks for metals and ice.
Physical Appearance
In appearance, Zormians are humanoid, with a small round head bearing a prehensile trunk, two gentle black eyes, a pair of huge ears; relatively thick, elephant-like legs, and long sensory whiskers, like those of Terran cats. Their bodies are covered with short, greyish-brown fur. They have long tails. Their stubby hands possess two fingers and a thumb
Anatomy/Physiology
The Children of Zorm are oviparous (egg-laying), warm-blooded oxygen breathers. Their skeletons are less bone than cartilage, and because Zorm’s gravity is only about a third that of Earth, they require physical augmentation such as mechanical exoskeletons on higher-gravity worlds. All Zormians are vegetarian.
Home World Geography & History
Physically delicate, the Children of Zorm achieved intelligence, as do many species, as a result of being preyed upon by larger, more savage foes. Before its ice age, jungle-like Zorm was home to a flourishing fauna of giant dinosaurian creatures. The Children of Zorm evolved intelligence to escape the marauding monsters. (See Science & Technology, below, for details.)
Politics & Government
The Children of Zorm practice basic democracy: one Child, one vote. Overall rule is vested in the captains of their ships and in the governors of the asteroid colonies. All Children participate in debates and law-making. Sitting out an election is frowned upon. Their economy is based on precious metals and organic compounds that they mine from the asteroids.
Society
The Children have two sexes, male and female. They are strongly family-oriented. The young is raised by their parents and extended families. The female lays one egg at a time, and can remain fertile for up to twenty years. Even so, small families are the norm, given the relatively limited space available on their flotilla and in their asteroid colonies. Certain families may be allowed to have additional children as a mark of respect or as a reward for service above and beyond the call of duty. Otherwise, reproduction is limited, with potential parents being chosen in a lottery on a yearly basis.
Science & Technology
They discovered steam power when their main civilization was technologically equivalent to ancient Greece on Earth. Using steam-propelled projectiles the Children were able at last to drive the dinosaur-like creatures menacing them into near-extinction. The use of these projectiles, as well as simultaneous advances in electromagnetic theory, soon led the Children to experiments in heavier-than-air flight—relatively easy to accomplish on Zorm, whose thick atmosphere is the result of constant outgassing from the planet’s interior.
The rate of outgassing, however, was found to be declining; the air was slowly beginning to leak away because the planet’s gravity was not strong enough to retain it. The Children are working to establish experimental domed cities on Zorm’s equator, and plan to move into similar cities when they return from space.
Strong believers in democracy, the Children have long had a love of political debate. Other forms of government rarely took hold in their society, though this may not always have been to their benefit; the discussion of whether or not to abandon their threatened world went on for nearly two (Earth Standard) centuries before they decided to collectively take up residence in the asteroids.
The Children of Zorm originally had little interest in trying to reach other stars, though they had successfully launched probes to the only other world in their star system, Haddi, further in toward 18 Scorpii. Haddi possesses plant and animal life but is too hot for the Children; they prefer their climate-controlled asteroid cities and space vessels. Although Zorm and Haddi both have moons, none are capable of supporting life.
The Children experienced First Contact when their system was visited by an expedition of astronauts from the Reznak Empire. The two races were similar enough in development, worldview and technology to have a great deal in common. The Children had long supposed that there must be intelligent life elsewhere in the universe, and were hugely excited by the visiting Imperial representatives. An exchange of information provided the Children with a great deal of knowledge and stimulated a belated debate among them concerning the practicality of visiting other star systems.
However, before the debate could proceed further, catastrophe struck. The contact between the Empire and the Children resulted to a sudden uptick in psychological disturbances among the Zormians. It was revealed, eventually, that the disturbance originated from the flood of telepathic energy from the Reznak. Mild though it was, this flow, which was involuntary on the part of the Reznak, triggered mental stress in the Children, and led to a wave of aggressive behavior and an increase in suicides. Shocked and dismayed that their mere thoughts could cause such a negative reaction, the Reznak withdrew from all physical contact They have, however, maintained electronic communication from a safe distance. Researchers on both sides continue to search for a way to solve the problem.
The Zormian fleet is larger than that of most other known space-faring culture, but their vessels are generally less of an offensive/defensive nature, and are oriented towards simple maintenance of the population. When the situation calls for fighting, though, The Children of Zorm have proven themselves to be formidable foes.
Kurta Colonies
Physical Description
Kurta are felinoid mammals. In height, the female averages up to six feet, and the males slightly over five. Their bodies are covered with short fur in one of several uniform colors. There are no splotches of additional color/patterns, as with Terran cats. Their hands have three fingers and an opposed thumb. Fingers, as well as toes, possess retractable claws. The Kurtan tail is slightly prehensile. The face looks pushed-in, as with a pug dog, but still has an obvious muzzle.
Anatomy/Physiology
The Kurta have an internal bony skeleton. Their teeth reflect their carnivore ancestry, but the dentition is somewhat adapted for chewing as opposed to simple biting and tearing. Being mammalian, they are warm-blooded oxygen breathers who give birth to and nurse their young.
The Kurta are more or less nocturnal in their habits.
Home World Geography & History
Lomagon has two moons, Keda and Pondak, and this fact had a great impact on their development as a species. Primitive Kurta believed that the universe was dominated by two warring sister goddesses, Haeia and Beloria, who lived on the moons. Both goddesses sought to destroy Lomagon because it blocked their view of the stars, but were kept from doing so by their mutual jealousy and enmity. Kurta mythology is filled with tales of mortals who were victimized or assisted in one way or another by the scheming goddesses or their underlings as they strove to gain ascendency over each other. The Kurta regard the enmity of Haeia and Beloria as the source of all earthly misery and woe.
Lomagon is an arid world with no oceans and only a few seas which are a bit bigger than large lakes—scattered here and there across its face. Even so, with two moons, the tides on these bodies of water can be sizeable. Kurta dwelling on their coastlines developed sailing in their prehistory, and soon established trading routes and thriving coastal port cities. Land-based caravans also spread Kurta cultures.
Other cities grew around desert oases. But given an innate distaste for groups and a somewhat paranoid world view, the felinoids rarely congregated in large numbers. This reluctance was also informed by the Kurtas’ rather piratical nature: settlements and caravans were often raided, with wealthy individuals being held for ransom by powerful brigands.
To this day, Lomagon remains rather sparsely populated, though wealthy Kurta have established many large estates around some oases. City-dwellers are looked down upon to some extent as less that self-reliant.
Politics & Government
Prehistoric Kurta lived in small packs to facilitate hunting. Over time, these developed into tribes, with complicated inter-tribal relationships. Each tribe was led by an alpha female and her immediate family, always including at least one male shaman. Modern-day Kurta retain the tribal structure, which is overseen in the planetary capital, H’eghdom, where representatives of all Kurtan tribes on Lomagon meet in a parliament to discuss issues and vote on laws.
Society
Endlessly curious about their world, the Kurta discarded their primitive religious beliefs relatively early in their development, while maintaining their temples and a ceremonial priesthood. Males, smaller in stature than the females, are thought to be unsuitable for more feminine pursuits like hunting and government. Great numbers of males are also to be found in the field of education. Kurta have occasionally experimented with patriarchy, but these experiments are always short-lived.
Kurta children, though born live as are most mammals, are placed in creches as soon as they are weaned (about six months after birth) to be raised by neutered males. The bonds formed between the children (especially the males) and their surrogate fathers sometimes last for a lifetime. Female children are turned out of the creches when they attain their third birthday, by which time they are fully capable of fending for themselves. Rather than being taken back in by their families, the children are expected to survive for two years in the wild, after which they are welcomed back into society and may take their proper place as adults. They have attained adult stature by that age and are capable of reproducing. A newly socialized female is responsible for establishing her own home with the help of males stolen from other settlements and put to work as slaves and/or consorts. This is regarded as normal behavior by Kurta at all levels of the culture.
The theft of males often results in a kind of traditional duel between houses, an ancient rite called St'ahanut. These duels, which are to the death, are fought with bladed pole weapons called trielluds, which are like spears. The victor retains ownership of the male (see Naming Conventions below).
Despite their technical prowess, Kurta are naturally very conservative in their thinking and are slow to adopt the fruits of scientific research. Male Kurta have traditionally been less reluctant to embrace change, especially in the social sciences. Often dissatisfied with their lot, males occasionally rise in revolt against their female oppressors and mistresses. These revolts, though sometimes successful, are always brutally put down with all male conspirators sentenced to public execution.
Science & Technology
Kurtan scientists delved deeply into astronomy and physics, and developed space travel some five thousand years after their culture founded their first cities. Their earliest space flights were to Keda (inner moon, rocky and airless) and Pondak (further away, but larger—almost a third the size of Lomagon, and possessing an atmosphere and lower forms of animal and plant life).
Three hundred years after becoming a space-faring species, the Kurta experienced First Contact on the planet of a nearby star. This happened to be a colony of the Tyreesians. The meeting between the two alien races was peaceful and resulted in regular communication between their worlds, but meddling in Kurtan politics by the Tyreesians have hurt the relationship.
The Kurtan fighting style remains essentially unchanged from antiquity. Their space fleets are comprised mostly of smaller, more agile ships as opposed to larger battle cruisers like TUS Seeker. These small vessels have the benefit of being easily maneuverable in atmosphere or in space. Kurta fight like lions on the hunt, in packs with quick surprise strikes to the jugular.
Kurta Naming Conventions
Consider the name of the space pirate da-Silantha Marenni Oleirónathiss, for example. The syllable da infers that she is a first-born, with the given name Silantha, belonging to the house of Marenni, of the Oleirónathiss tribe.
Alternately, the name ti-Caren Daghannelin Darienathiss, who could be called Tic or Tica for short, by her family, contains the information that she is Caren, the third-born daughter belonging to the Daghannelin house of the tribe of Darienathiss.
A woman named da-Fortori Beritren Holennadórathiss could be Dafo or Dafor or perhaps Berit for short. Formally, of course, she'd be da-Fortori.
Males are considered to have no tribes, and are essentially owned by their houses, or estates. So a male character name Heerbaga would formally be Heerbaga Marenni; the house name being appended to his given name.
Drupadi Regime
Physical Appearance
The Drupadi resemble other humanoids excluding two specific distinctions: their skin is pale white, almost translucent and they have a set of rounded appendages that narrow to the tips in rows straight back from their forehead in an approximation of hair. It is believed that these ‘tentacles’ are a vestigial carry-over from their cephalopod ancestor. It is also speculated in more than one Terran xenoarchaeologist journal that the Drupadi visited Earth centuries before first contact but only briefly – just long enough to inspire the Greek legend of Medusa. However, there is no physical evidence to support this theory. The Drupadi themselves merely shrug and smile when asked.
Anatomy/ Physiology
Unlike other two-legged humanoids, the Drupadi have a non-humanoid ancestor that most closely resembles a Terran octopus. However, the Drupadi have retained only a few traits from their unusual progenitor: skin with microscopic "feelers" over their entire body, the ability to produce air-borne pheromones to attract mates and rounded tentacle “hair”.
The microscopic feelers on their skin act like mini-mouths that give the Drupadi an almost 3-D ability to "taste" and "feel" anything they touch. The effect of this exotic ability is that their bodies are one big erogenous zone. This unique adaptation creates such an intense sensory touch experience for the Drupadi that any type of skin-to-skin contact is considered sexual. Interacting with other species can be awkward as just shaking hands with a Drupadi is considered a sex act.
Adding to this already potent sexual arsenal is another trait retained from their cephalopod ancestor: internal ink sacs that disperse pheromones to attract a mate.
Although the "ink sacs" of the Drupadi do not actually produce ink (that aspect has been evolved out), the glands do create a musk of peptide pheromones that are automatically released in the presence of potential mates.
The third trait: the ‘tentacles’ on top of their heads are not considered to be true tentacles as they do not move, but simply lay flat straight back from the forehead in neat rows. However, these hair tentacles are also covered by the same sensitive skin as the rest of their body.
Ironically, there remains one key mystery surrounding the sexual nature of the Drupadi: reproduction. Specifically, it is not known how the Drupadi reproduce or if there are even male Drupadi. A male Drupadi has never been seen and when asked regarding the existence of males or whether they reproduce asexually the Drupadi give only vague, evasive answers.
Planet
Drupadi Prime is small and covered with more water, mostly oceanic, than landmass. It is believed that this inverse of water to land ratio is evidence of their early aquatic origins. It is further speculated that the high humidity produced by the large amount of liquid surface area is necessary to maintain the unique sensory qualities of their skin. When Drupadi are off-world, which is often, they travel with large quantities of humectants to protect their skin from losing too much moisture.
Culture
The Drupadi are a highly sexual, sensual race devoted to pleasure. Their soft skin, intense touch stimulation as well as their pheromone attractants make them highly desired as sexual partners throughout the galaxy. However, encounters with the Drupadi have had reported side effects including permanent insanity (one suggested safety measure is to wear white noise earplugs so as to shield oneself mentally). They are a matriarchal society given the fact that there is lack of any males in their species. While they do not deny access to their planet, they also do not invite it. The Drupadi travel throughout the galaxy so that there is little cause for other species to make a trip to their planet.
Politics
The Drupadi are considered an influential race and are members of the Galactic Council formed by Captain Jeryl Montgomery of Earth. However, their interest in politics seems to focus on maintaining contact with other species in a bid for discovering secrets that they can then use to exert both influence and power in other political circles. An example of such a power play occurred when the Drupadi leader Marjda revealed information to Captain Montgomery regarding whom was behind the attempt to sabotage the formation of the Galactic council.
It should be noted that the Drupadi enjoy cultivating an air of mystery in all of their dealings whether in politics or scientific inquiry.
Any attempts to discover more about them are ultimately met with failure as any individuals (male or female) who attempt to ask them become distracted and lose their train of thought as well as their original queries.
Prolonged contact with the Drupadi can also result in a loss of motor control, speech, common sense, inhibitions, large amounts of credits and occasionally the failure to recall one's own name.