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The Flight of the War Admiral
By Steven Gordon
Foreward
From the log of War Admiral Norman North, Commander, 7th fleet:
We were caught with our guard down, and humanity paid a terrible
price for it. We had battled the Insects, a race of sentient seven foot
tall insects, to a standstill in twenty years of terrible combat. We
had taken losses, but our worlds secure, and most of our people were
safe.
And then the politicians, lured by a gullible desire to believe
the overtures of chief negotiator with the Insects, the traitor
Mitterand, agreed to an armistice at Vitalics. There they ambushed and
destroyed almost all of our entire fleet.
Almost all. The small fleet under my command, combined with a
task force from our junior Alliance partner, the June Directorate,
survived, but was forced to flee vastly superior numbers of Insect
battlecruisers and battleships. Nothing stopped the Insects from moving
in, occupying all our worlds and enslaving our people, putting them to
work producing material for their war machine.
But the Insects were smart enough to realize that as long as any
of us were free that we were still a threat to them, that someday we
would come back and reclaim what was rightfully ours. They sent many
fleets to hunt us down, even as we've fled Alliance space into the
unknown. We've had two brief battles since we left Orotis, on the edge
of Alliance space, and those two battles have cost us three warships
(and a badly damaged fourth that had to be scuttled), as well as two of
our precious merchantmen.
Our efforts to escape are not merely a mindless route; we are
moving with a purpose, even if our crews do not fully understand or
agree with it. For we are going to search out the technology of the
Monumentals, the ancient civilization who may hold the key to helping
us defeat the Insects. But the Insects are bent on making sure we don't
survive long enough to make any discoveries, and our most immediate
task right now is simple: escape from the Insects.
Rewind: The day of the attack at Vitalics.
Finally, there would be peace.
Humanity had been in conflict with the Insects for nearly 20
years. They had appeared out of nowhere--giant, seven feet tall
intelligent insects bent on conquering the human race. And, for a time,
with their flood of destroyers, cruisers, and battleships, it appeared
they would win. It was only at the decisive battle of Trajinar, three
years earlier, that the Alliance fleet under the command of War Admiral
Norman North had turned the tide and decisively crushed the Insect
fleet.
After that, battles became skirmishes, skirmishes became hit and
run raids, and then the Insects ceased their attacks altogether. They
had contacted one of the Alliance's most respected ministers, Lawrence
Mitterand, and sued for peace.
And peace there would be. After a year of slow but steady
negotiation, Mitterand had worked out a peace agreement that both sides
could agree to.
League President Hov Marshall looked out from the bridge of his
mighty flagship the Augustus at the rest of the fleet. He shielded his
eyes from the powerful glare of Vitalics' brilliant sun as he stared at
the assembled ships. Nearly the entire League fleet was here for the
armistice with the Insects. The League was the dominant partner in the
Alliance; the junior partner, the June Directorate, had chosen not to
participate in the armistice, but had agreed to abide by the terms of
the ceasefire.
Well, Marshall wasn't going to let the Directorate spoil things.
"Ze Insect fleet is here," said Mitterand, standing by his side.
"Finally, ve will have ze peace," he said in his old westeuro accent.
"Admiral Peterson, order the fleet to a halt," Marshall as he
eyed the approaching Insect Fleet.
"Fleet command: hold here," said the Admiral over the central
comm.
The Insect fleet maintained a healthy distance from the League
fleet. Only four of their larger ships slowly moved towards the League
Fleet, each moving towards a different part of the fleet.
"Admiral, I'm getting some weird readings from those ships," said
a bridge crewer. "The scanners seem to say that they have some kind of
unstable cargo."
"Cargo? What kind of cargo?"
At that moment external ports opened on the giant ships, which
rapidly spat out a series of oval objects which speeded towards the
densely packed League fleet. As they closed on the fleet these spheres
started to detonate, casting a fine mist over the League fleet.
"Power drain!" cried a crewer. "All systems are down!" cried
another.
"What's going on?" said Marshall.
"Ve must continue ze peace process," said Mitterand, almost
mechanically. "Ve need ze peace like ve need ze air."
And it was at that moment that the Insects attacked.
Still staying well clear of the League fleet and the mist that
enveloped, the Insect ship launched a massive wave of missiles. The
tail section of the missile exhausts cut out as they entered the misty
area, but inertia caused them to continue moving forward.
Peterson eyed the missiles streaking towards them. "Raise
shields! Activate anti missile lasers!"
"We can't sir, we've lost all power except emergency batteries!"
said one of the crewers, frantically turning switches on and off again.
The Augustus was rocked as a missile hit it amidships, causing
everyone on the bridge to stumble momentarily. Other missiles slammed
into other ships of the fleet, all of which were helpless and dead in
space. Several of the destroyers, not large enough to survive a direct
impact, burst into pieces.
"What's going on here?" said Marshall. "This was supposed to be
an armistice!"
"All ships to battlestations, repel attackers!" Admiral Peterson
shouted into the hectic fleetcom channel. But with so many voices over
the comm he couldn't make himself heard. Not that it mattered; most of
the fleet was disabled, as dead as museum pieces.
The Insects launched a second wave.
"Ve must continue ze peace process," said Mitterand mechanically.
Marshall, almost out of his mind, grabbed Mitterand by the shirt.
"What are you talking about? They're blowing us to pieces!"
Another set of missiles slammed into the fleet. This time a
number of cruisers were seriously damaged, several of them critically.
One blew up just starboard of the Augustia, creating a white flash
which shook the flagship.
"Ve must continue ze peace process," said Mitterand.
"Stop saying that!" Marshall shrieked, shaking Mitterand and
slapping him hard in the face. What happened next surprised him even
more.
Mitterand's face came off, revealing wiring and circuitry
underneath, with sparkling orbs for eyes.
Marshall reflexively let go, just as another missile slammed into
the Augustus, causing him to stumble. "What... are you?"
Moving very quickly, Mitterand grabbed Marshall and started to
throttle him. "Peace begets peace begets peace" he said, squeezing
Marshall's neck in a crushing grip. There was a crack of broken bones
and Marshall was tossed across the bridge. General Peterson reached for
his sidearm...
Just as another missile slammed into the bridge. The Augustus was
one of the most heavily armored ships in the fleet, but it wasn't
intended to operate without shields, and without shields it couldn't
survive more than a few direct hits.
The missile blew up much of the forward decks, incinerating the
bridge crew instantly. The survivors in the interior sections didn't
last much longer either. Missiles from a succeeding wave crashed into
the engine section, detonating the fuel supply and creating a miniature
sun in the space where the Augustus stood.
This scene was repeated throughout the entire fleet. One after
another League ships turned into fireballs, their crews helpless to do
anything to defend themselves or even fleet. Within a few minutes, the
rest of the fleet was destroyed. So complete was the destruction that
there were almost no survivors. Of the 362 ships in the League fleet,
only 8 managed to escape the immediate battle. Three of those were
quickly hunted down and destroyed; one light cruiser managed to go to
ground and her crew joined the planetbound resistance on Whenfor; one
destroyer managed to link up with members of the surviving fleet, a
battle cruiser and a fast attack destroyer became blockade runners
until they were hunted down and destroyed, and one battleship, whose
story is told elsewhere, escaped into deep space.
But for all intents and purposes the bulk of the League fleet
ceased to exist in a matter of minutes, leaving all the League worlds
open to domination by the Insects.
There would be peace, all right, but the peace of the subjugated,
the peace of the master and the slave; peace, but on the Insects'
terms, and humanity, what elements that survived, would fare very, very
poorly.
Chapter 1: Attack at Hunt's World
Further Rewind: Two weeks before the disaster at Vitalics
"It's utter foolishness!" said War Admiral Norman North.
"Watch your tongue, Admiral!" countered Admiral Gubar Peterson,
Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff for the League of United Worlds.
He was addressing a fellow admiral, the legendary Norman North. There
were precious few War (four star) Admirals in the League, and although
North's permanent rank was Victory Admiral (five star), he had given up
that rank to return to active duty in the field. Regardless of his
rank, Peterson was technically the top Navy man, and expected proper
behavior from all his sailors--even the great Norman North, the hero of
Trajinar.
"I still think it's foolish," said North stubbornly, as if he
didn't fear anything Peterson could do to him.
"This is a decision of the civilian hierarchy, and we report to
them, not the other way around," said Peterson. "Are you saying you are
going to go against the orders of our civilian authorities?"
North avoided this obvious trap. "No, of course not, sir." He was
already aware of the number of resignations, a number of them forced,
over the issue. Some of the best fleet captains and admirals of the
line had already resigned in protest; but North was not ready to take
that route. That wasn't his way.
Peterson relaxed slightly. "Very well then. You're entitled to
have your own personal opinion about peace with the Insects, but keep
that opinion to yourself. Now, let's talk about your next assignment."
Having taken North down a notch, he felt inclined to be a bit more
generous. "I'm prepared to give you some latitude. Where would you like
your fleet to be located?"
North felt his mouth drop open. "I had assumed that I would go to
Vitalics with the rest of the fleet for the signing of the armistice."
"That's not wise, War Admiral. You yourself pointed out the folly
of putting the entire fleet all in one place, leaving our planets
undefended. The League President has agreed with your line of thought
in this matter. That's why he's permitting you and your fleet to stay
behind."
"Meaning he doesn't want me anywhere near Vitalics during the
signing."
"That's another way of putting it," said Peterson, allowing
himself a grin. "But I'm prepared to give you some latitude in your
positioning."
"Latitude?"
"You can base your fleet anywhere you like... as long as it's not
within 10 lightyears of Vitalics."
"I see," said North. He turned to a star map, as if thinking,
then pointed to a star, "Hunt."
"The Hunt system?" Peterson looked surprised, both at the speed
of North's response and his selection. "I would've thought you would've
chosen a system 10.1 lightyears from Vitalics, or stationed yourself
here on August."
"Hunt will do fine, sir. What forces are under my command?"
"Here's a readout," said Peterson, handing him a datapad. North
took a look at it, and bit his lip. 42 ships. About 10% of the fleet.
It was almost an insult for a War Admiral to be commanding such a small
force. Well, at least he still had the Glory, his flagship, and a fair
mix of top of the line and current ships. It would have to do. Peterson
was looking at his face to see his reaction, but North forced himself
to give a blank expression. "Very well, sir. If you'll excuse me?"
The Glory was an old Command Carrier, one of only four such ships
still in existence. But old shouldn't be confused with feeble; although
over 300 years old, every part of the Glory except her armor and her
bulkheads had been stripped out and replaced several times with
upgrades and new components. The Glory was one of those very rare and
expensive combinations of a battleship and a fleet carrier.
On the bottom the ship was pure carrier: it had two launching and
landing bays capable of holding six squadrons of fighters plus a wide
variety of support and transport craft. The Glory currently carried a
complement of five squadrons of old but proven assault Wildcats and one
squadron of even older Defender heavy bombers. Although both classes of
fighters had been in service for over 100 years, the Glory carried a
mixture of type 145-D and 150-B Wildcats and type 78-J Defenders,
among the most modern versions of these fighters in the fleet.
The top of the Glory was pure battleship, featuring three sets of
massive 34 inch laser cannon turrets, side mounted missile launchers, a
22 inch turret in the rear, and a number of small caliber anti-fighter
armament. While no longer state of the art compared with the most
modern battleships, the Glory could go toe to toe against nearly any
ship in the fleet except the most modern superbattleships and
dreadnaughts.
In short, the Glory had the teeth of a battleship and the carrying
capacity of a carrier. That combination, however, made the Command
Carrier line tremendously expensive, which explains why they were
discontinued after only eight models, in favor of regular carriers and
battleships.
North's shuttle, accompanied by his standard fighter escort, landed in
the forward landing bay. His executive officers, Captain Roger Dulin,
skipper of the Glory, and Commander Stacy Wren, his first officer, were
waiting for him in his ready room.
"Ridiculous!" were Dulin's first words.
"Obviously a trap," said Wren. "Why else would they want to meet
at Vitalics?"
"Admiral Peterson said that they considered that neutral
territory," said North.
"And it's just a coincidence they chose a meeting place where
electromagnetic interference would prevent any communication outside of
the system?" said Wren.
"Mitterand said with the entire fleet there we'd have nothing to
fear," said North hollowly. Even he didn't pretend to believe what he
was saying.
"Mitterand is a traitor!" said Wren savagely.
"Commander-"
"Or at least a dupe," said Dulin. "It doesn't matter which. What
are we going to do?"
"Do, Captain?" North raised his eyebrows. "Our orders are to go
to Hunt's world and stay put."
"We've got to stop them," said Dulin. "They'll ambush the fleet."
North frowned. "Assuming you're right, how do you propose we stop
them? Admiral Peterson is leaving even as we speak, and the bulk of the
fleet is already on its way to Vitalics."
"We could catch up to them at top speed before they get there,"
said Wren.
"And then what?" said North. "Tell them they're going into an
ambush, of which I have no proof of? And when the admirals and civilian
leaders who are traveling with them tell them to disregard my orders,
what then?"
"Tell them not to obey their admirals, if necessary," said Wren.
"War Admiral, you've saved us countless times. We all owe you for
Trajinar. The fleet will follow you."
North self consciously fingered the silver eagles on the collar
of his light blue uniform. "So you're telling me to stage a coup, to
overthrow the elected leaders of the League and their military
leadership. Do you realize what you're saying?"
"If it has to be done to save us, yes!" cried Wren.
North turned to Dulin. "And you, Captain? What are your views on
this?"
"I... I think the fleet will listen to you, sir," said Dulin.
"You realize you're talking about mutiny," said North. "The
penalty for which is still capital punishment." He paused, as if he
were also fighting a battle with himself. "All right. Let's take your
thought experiment a step further. What if we make our big announcement
and some ships don't go along? Do we fire on them?"
Dulin was silent.
"Do we shoot at our own sailors? For that matter, what if the
majority of the fleet doesn't go along? We'll be vastly outnumbered and
outgunned. Are you prepared to be vaporized for mutiny, along with all
the other ship captains and senior officers in this fleet?" North
asked.
Dulin, choked up, tried to make a sound but nothing came out.
North slowly paced back and forth on the carpeting. "I'd be lying
if I said I hadn't thought about doing something like this too. But
it's too risky. Even if we're right, without proof we might not be able
to persuade the fleet. And just remember, we may not be right; it's
been almost a year since the last skirmish; the Insects may really be
suing for peace.
"You don't believe that!" said Wren.
North shook his head. "You're right, I don't. But I'm not
certain. And as long as I'm not certain, and an 'intervention' on our
part is risky at best, I'm not going to act. Remember that most of the
fleet is going there; if there is an ambush being planned, the Insects
will have to be strong enough to take out our entire fleet at once.
Maybe they won't be foolish enough to try; maybe if they try, they'll
fail."
"At the very least we should go to Vitalics too."
North shook his head. "We'd be risking court martial when we got
into sensor range. And with only 40 odd ships under my direct command,
I'm not sure we could make a difference."
He sighed. "This isn't an easy decision. But I'm not going to
overthrow an elected government unless I'm certain they're wrong, and
I'm not.... And even if I were, I'm not nearly sure we'd be
successful."
"So what do we do now?"
"We go to Hunt's world... and we wait," said North.
The Glory and its accompanying fleet came into orbit around the
moon orbiting Hunt's World. Formerly a pioneering world, Hunt had over
the centuries gradually evolved into a center of industry and capital
and was now the main "money world" in the League. Because of its
importance to the financial industry, Hunt's World had a series of
battlestations in high orbit around the planet, brimming with weaponry
and a full assortment of starfighters.
But, oddly enough, North hadn't stationed his fleet in proximity
of the battlestations; instead, much of the fleet were in orbit around
Hunt's moon, too far to get support from the weaponry on the
battlestations, if needed.
"It's been eight hours," Commander Wren fumed. "Eight hours since
the armistice convened.
"Patience, Commander," said North, sitting in his command chair
which was set just behind Captain Dulin's. "I'm sure we'll be hearing
something soon." He touched the silver eagles on his collar below his
four stars, his only sign of restlessness.
"How long does it take them to sign a piece of paper?" Wren
fumed.
North gave her a mild look but said nothing.
"Sir, we're getting an incoming communication," said the comm
officer, working the receiver. "It's faint, but I think it's from the
fleet. We can only get audio."
A few seconds later there was a hissing sound and then, "--under
attack. This is Captain Tirako of the Cruiser Impulse. We are under
attack by a fleet of Insect ships-"
North's voice was immediate, but it was also calm. "Captain
Tirako, this is War Admiral Norman North of the Glory. What happened to
the fleet?"
"...fleet... destroyed. All destroyed. Glory, they're firing
again!" There was an explosion, then a crackle, and the line went dead.
"Captain, I'm picking up a fleet of Insect ships at extreme
range, closing rapidly," said the scanner officer.
For a moment, the bridge was incredibly silent.
"I think we have our answer," said North, very slowly, in a very
soft voice, as if he had difficulty speaking. He looked grimmer than
Wren had ever seen him.
"Battle Stations."
The attacking fleet was not, of course, the same one that had
conducted the ambush at Vitalics; Vitalics, still days away, was too
far away. Instead, this smaller Insect fleet had started out several
days before the Vitalics ambush occurred, timing their arrival to come
just after the Vitalics rendezvous had taken place.
"I'm reading 78 combat ships,' said the scanner officer. "12
battleships, 14 battlecruisers, 27 cruisers, the rest an assortment of
smaller ships."
"They knew exactly where we were," North muttered, his heart
sinking as he stared at the line of massive battleships on the screen.
The Insects had a two to one advantage in ships, but probably a three
to one advantage in weapons; while the Insects had 12 battleships and
14 battlecruisers, North's fleet had only the Glory, and a pocket
battleship, the Blue Luna, and four battlecruisers. The rest were
standard cruisers and other combat vessels. It would be a tough fight,
and everyone knew it. Normally, North's cruisers wouldn't stand a
chance against Insect battleships. But North had a few surprises
planned that would help even the odds, if everything worked as planned.
North raised his voice, "Only 78 ships? They must be feeling
overconfident." He touched a button on his console to open a channel to
interfleet. "This is War Admiral Norman North. By now you have heard of
the destruction of the main part of our fleet. I won't deceive you with
some public relations doubletalk and say that everything will be fine."
He paused a brief moment to let that sink in, and then continued.
"But I will say that whatever has happened to the main fleet, we are
still alive and the Insects haven't won until they've beaten us. We've
defeated the Insects before and we will again, as long as we continue
to be a coherent combat force. That's why it's vital we win this
encounter with a minimum of losses."
The War Admiral paused again.
"There will be time for grieving later. For now I expect you all to
give your best. Prepare to conform to attack plan Hunt 1 exactly as we
rehearsed it. Good luck. North out."
The previous silence was replaced by a babble of voices as bridge
officers readied their stations for combat.
The Insect Admiral, a junior Queen, was puzzled. She had expected
North's forces to be stationed in high orbit around Hunt, to take
advantage of the defenses afforded by the battlestations. She had been
prepared to conduct a standoff attack with missiles to destroy the
battlestations first. Instead North had his forces strung out around
Hunt's moon, where the battlestation weapons wouldn't be effective and
where even the battlestation's fighters would take several minutes to
engage. The Insects had fought Norman North too long to underestimate
him, and yet the Insects still couldn't see what North was trying to
achieve or why he would take such an obviously inferior defensive
stance.
The Admiral studied the scanner interface. It was a pity they
didn't have the same suppression equipment they used at Vitalics; but
there had been barely enough there to get the job done there. Well,
they'd have to conduct this battle more conventionally. Either way, the
result would be the same.
"Order the attack," the Admiral ordered.
The Insect attack fleet closed in a narrow formation. During
their first attack they intended to punch through the human fleet,
currently in low orbit. Then, while their formation was disrupted, the
Insects would engage the enemy one-on-one until they were all
destroyed. The Insect Admiral had competed with others to have the
honor of destroying the great Norman North. She wondered what kind of
honor the Queen would bestow upon her when she brought the Queen his
head.
Her attention snapped back to the present as her fleet plowed
through the human fleet, firing madly at their ships. The human shields
were holding up, but so were those of the Insect ships. The Insects,
having gone past the human fleet and between it and Hunt's moon,
started to brake, and turn, and...
Brilliant beams of light shot up from the surface of Hunt's moon,
impacting on several of the Insect ships. The Insect Admiral turned her
scanners to the moon and saw, for the first time, that portable laser
batteries had been set up on the surface. Where had they come from?
She had no time to wonder, because even as those laser batteries
opened fire, dozens if not hundreds of fighters were streaming out of
hidden caves beneath the moon's surface. Where were all those fighters
coming from? North's fleet didn't have nearly that many fighters,
according to the intelligence reports. Then the Admiral immediately
figured it out: they must have been moved from their berths in the
battlestation to the moon. When had this been done?
And then explosions started to come on a new front; as the Insect
fleet braked and turned, heading away from the moon, some of them
slammed into mines! The Insect Admiral checked her short range scanner.
There was a thick layer of mines between the human fleet and the moon.
How had the humans known that they would arrive at this exact spot?
North's fleet closed on the Insect ships, which continued to be
pounded by surface fire and, a few moments later, by squadrons of 145-B
and even more nimble 150-D Wildcats streaming out of the surface. The
Insect Admiral, realizing that being sandwiched by North's fleet on one
side and the moon's laser emplacements and fighters on the other was a
recipe for disaster, ordered her fleet to break off and cut through the
line of North's ships to get to the relative safety of open space.
But in doing so the fleeing Insect ships lost their carefully
planned formation and bearings and became open targets for North's
fleet. North's cruiser groups raked them with fire as they passed. A
number of Insect ships also slammed into mines on their way out,
causing heavy damage.
When the Insect ships cleared the mine field and steered out of
range of the moon's guns they moved to reform into their original
squadrons, but War Admiral North's fleet gave them no quarter.
By the time the Insect fleet had moved off and reformed, while
still under constant attack from North's fleet, 37 ships had either
been destroyed or heavily damaged, including five of the battleships
and seven of the battlecruisers, and North's fleet hadn't lost a single
ship. But if the two fleets were now roughly even in size the Insect
fleet was still more powerful, its battleships and battlecruisers
capable of outgunning any ship in North's fleet in a one-on-one battle,
except perhaps for the Glory.
But it wasn't simply to be a ship to ship battle. Fighters,
nearly 300 of them, swarmed up from the moons surface, attacking key
Insect battle groups.
One fighter attacking a capital ship can almost be ignored. Three
or four fighters attacking a capital ship is an irritant. But 20
fighters armed with heavy rockets can make short work of a cruiser or
even a larger capital ship. A number of them were converted Defender
heavy bombers with several payloads of ordinance.
North's fleet was careful to only engage the Insect battlegroups
already under heavy attack from the fighters. Whenever one of the
Insect battlegroups not under fighter attack tried to engage North's
fleet, his ships carefully maneuvered out of the way to try to keep the
besieged Insect fleet groups between them and the ones not under
fighter attack. In fact, at any given moment half of North's fleet
refused to engage, simply playing cat and mouse with battleships and
battlecruisers not under fighter attack.
The fighters did quick work, not waiting to destroy Insect ships
but rather halting attacks when they had achieved heavy damage, and
moved in groups of 20 and 30 to attack the next ship.
"Engage them!" cried the Insect Admiral. In their rush to get
here they hadn't brought any fighters of their own, but the Insect
Admiral thought that their overwhelming number of capital ships would
even out that advantage. Then again, the Insect Admiral hadn't expected
to face 300 heavily armed fighters, more than triple the number
normally assigned to the Glory.
"We can't," said an Insect officer. "They keep running from us!"
But as the number of undamaged Insect ships dwindled down to 25,
the bulk of North's fleet did turn and engage the Insects, even those
not currently under fighter attack. A cruiser couldn't take on a
battlecruiser, one to one, but three of them could. The Glory directly
engaged one of the two remaining Insect battleships, while the pocket
battleship Blue Luna, in the company of a destroyer squadron, engaged
the other. The Insect fleet struck out at the human ships, damaging a
number of them, but the momentum was on North's side.
When the number of Insect ships remaining dropped to less than
20, the Insect Admiral gave the order to retreat.
"Pursue and destroy!" cried North from the bridge of the Glory.
The fleet pounded the Insects as they retreated, following them to the
edge of the system and disabling or destroying four more of their
ships. At the system's edge North called the fleet back to deal with
the surviving damaged Insect ships who were trying to limp from the
field.
The fleet opened fire on the damaged Insect ships on orders from
the Glory. Captain Dulin didn't ask War Admiral North if he wanted them
to rescue any Insect survivors, and War Admiral North, grim faced, said
nothing. After the slaughter at Vitalics, no one was in the mood to
take prisoners.
When it was all over Admiral North assessed the damage. Seven
ships, three cruisers and four destroyers had been destroyed or heavily
damaged. The rest of the fleet had suffered light damage, except for
one cruiser whose engines had been knocked out.
"Transfer the survivors from these seven ships aboard our
battlecruiser group," commanded North. "The cruiser with the damaged
drive section, the Larata, how long before it can be made spaceworthy?"
"Our techs think two hours," said Captain Dulin.
North calculated how long it would take them to get the fighters
back onboard. "We leave in one hour," said North. "If they can make it
spaceworthy by then, they can accompany us; if not, they can play
catchup."
"Where are we going in such a hurry, sir?" Dulin asked.
"June," said North. June was the Capital of the June Directorate,
the junior coalition partner in the Alliance with the League. Now that
the League fleet, except for North's battlegroup, was largely
destroyed, the Directorate's fleet was the only other allied fleet
left. It was smaller than the League fleet, but their ships were
technologically advanced and their navy had a solid reputation as
capable fighters.
"Get me Admiral Zarat of the June Directorate fleet," North said.
There was a pause and the holographic display crackled but
remained otherwise silent. "We can't, sir, there's some interference."
"Jamming," said North. "They could already be under attack." He
resisted the urge to order their immediate departure. If they left now,
they'd have to leave most of the fighters behind.
The Glory was officially rated to carry six squadrons of fighters
but to help carry the additional fighters from the Hunt battlestations
would now be carrying eight. In addition, each surviving ship would
also be carrying a handful of fighters in their hanger bays. All said
and done the fleet could now carry 200 fighters. The local Hunt
military authority wasn't thrilled to lose half of its fighter support,
but North pulled rank and gave them no choice.
"Get those fighters aboard as quickly as possible," said North,
looking at his chronometer and privately fuming. Time was so precious!
Well, there was still one thing he could do. "Get me Battle
General Tenor Markov, commander, ground forces on August, Sarney
Sarittenden Central Command HQ." A Battle General was a three star
general, the highest practical rank in the ground forces. Although
there was theoretically one higher rank, that of War General, that rank
was generally unfilled and reserved for great war heroes. Currently,
only the head of the joint chiefs held that rank, and that was
currently an Admiral, Ruber Peterson. Who was almost certainly dead.
The comm officer opened a line to August.
August. The capital of the Alliance.
North's hands figited as he wondered if communications had been
jammed there too. Which could only mean the attack had already begun
there as well.
But after a few tense moments the screen crackled and Markov's
face filled his holocommunicator.
"War Admiral," he said curtly. A loud babble of voices could be
heard in the background on Markov's end.
"You've heard the news," said North, referring to the
transmission from the ship that briefly escaped the ambush at Vitalics.
"We did. Was the entire fleet really destroyed?"
"We have no way of knowing without going and taking a look," said
North. "But if we haven't heard from anyone else by now, it's a safe
bet that there aren't entire battlegroups in silent running."
"The entire fleet," said Markov, trying to wrap his mind around
it. "And the President, and the joint chiefs... and the cabinet... all
gone..." He paused a moment, as if lost in thought, then snapped back
into reality. "And your battlegroup?"
North checked the scrambler controls. They flashed green. He
looked up at Markov. "We had a little ambush of our own, but we're
fine. We have only 34 ships left, so there's not much we can do."
"Understood. What do you recommend?"
"The Insects will be coming," said North. "Your orbital defenses
will not be able to hold out long. My suggestion is that you abandon
your military headquarters and disperse your troops and prepare for
ground assault. Your best strategy, if there is any best strategy, is
protracted guerrilla warfare to wear the enemy down."
Markov's face showed that the implications of this were slowly
sinking in. "Protracted? How long is protracted?"
North lowered his voice, though he knew the entire bridge crew
could still hear him. "We're about to go into battle again, General."
Picking his words carefully, he said, "I don't know when, or if, we'll
be able to communicate again. I suggest you wipe your command files
and-"
"Just a moment!" a third voice intervened, splitting into their
two-way communication. The face of Vice President Novacan appeared.
"Admiral North, where are you going?"
"Into battle, sir," said North, picking his words carefully.
Scrambler or no, this communication could be tapped and deciphered,
with the right access codes. With the President, his senior military
and civilian advisers, and most of the cabinet at Vitalics, only Vice
President Novacan had been left behind to mind affairs on August.
"Where are you going? Admiral, I order you to return to August to
secure the defense of our homeworld!" said the Novacan.
"Minister, our small fleet will be no match for the overwhelming
force the Insects will throw at us-"
"You're not paid to think, Admiral!" Novacan snapped. "I'm
issuing a direct order for you to return immediately!"
North paused a moment. "No." he said. It was obvious to everyone
on the bridge that he omitted the "sir".
"No? No what?" said Novacan.
"No, we're not returning."
"Admiral North, you are relieved of command! Captain Dulin!"
"Sir?" said Dulin, stepping forward promptly.
"You are to take command of the fleet and return to August
immediately."
"No sir!" said Dulin, just as promptly.
"This is treason! You'll be vaporized for this!"
"No," said North slowly. "What you and your administration have
done is treason. You have lowered our guard and cost the lives of
thousands of loyal sailors whose only fault was following your orders.
We will no longer listen to yours." He turned as if to terminate
connections.
"Where are you taking your fleet? Are you going to run away?
Coward!" Novacan spat.
North turned back, murder in his eyes. "Yes, I'm a coward," he
said slowly. "I've been giving the subject a lot of thought lately. I'm
a coward for not arresting you, the President, and the Joint Chiefs
when I had the chance. I'm a coward for not taking power when I should
have. I was afraid of taking action. This is the result of my inaction.
My inaction" He repeated it, for emphasis. "I don't know if we'll
survive this, but if, by some miracle we do, I won't make the same
mistake twice," he said, his voice deadly grim. "Goodbye, Minister, and
try to take a kinder tone with your new Insect masters."
He terminated communications. The bridge crew was speechless.
North turned to Wren. "Are the fighters aboard yet?" he said quietly.
"Another few minutes, sir."
"Is the League network still up?"
The comm officer checked, then nodded. "For the most part." The
Insects hadn't yet gotten the chance to disrupt the League-wide
communication network.
"Activate the League wide network. Use our priority military
code."
"Online."
North took a deep breath. He would now be addressing the senior
military, political and administrative leaders and staff throughout the
League. "This is War Admiral Norman North. A few hours ago, it appears
that most if not all of the League fleet sent to the Vitalics armistice
was destroyed in an ambush. As President Marshall unwisely sent nearly
the entire fleet to Vitalics, we are now left open and defenseless to
an Insect invasion."
He paused for a moment to let this sink in.
"The Insects will be coming, in some worlds in a matter of hours,
and others in a few days. Worlds on the outskirts of the League may be
lucky enough to have a few weeks, but they will come, sooner or later.
This is a terrible time for the League; we have been led to defeat by
the naivete and incompetence of our leaders."
"But ultimately we are the ones at fault, we, through our
complacency and nearsightedness and preoccupation with consumption and
pleasure, who elected the Marshall and his cronies on their unrealistic
"peace now" plank. President Marshall is no longer around to pay for
his mistakes, but we are. I have spent most of my adult life fighting
to defend what we hold so dear, and now we are about to lose it."
"To those of you who still value freedom, who are still willing
to fight for it, I call on you to rise up and resist. Form small,
mobile tactical groups. Harass the Insects and make them pay for their
occupation. Sabotage Insect installations and kill as many Insects as
you can. It will be a long and difficult fight, but eventually we can
make the price of occupation too expensive for them to pay."
"As for myself, as long as I am alive the Insects have not fully
conquered the fleet. Never forget that as you fight on the ground I
will be here, in space, fighting for you as well. Mark my words:
someday we will meet again, and the next time we do, we will regain
our hard-won freedom once again."
"This is War Admiral Norman North, signing off. Good luck to all
of you."
If the bridge had been merely stunned by North's communication
with Defense Minister Novacan, they were overwhelmed by North's message
to the League. It was one thing to know that they had been defeated; to
hear it from North's lips, however, gave it a new weight and reality
that was only now sinking in.
Dulin moved closer to North's command chair. "Ah, sir, do you
think it was really wise to blame the people for this?" he said, in a
low voice.
"Wise?" said North, raising an eyebrow. "I don't care. They're
responsible. I've fought my entire life for these people, and look at
them! Most of them are parasites simply living off their rohelpers and
holopics, and haven't worked a day in their lives. They voted for
Marshall because war was "inconvenient" and peace was the easy thing.
Our rise in technology and productivity was supposed to make life
easier, but when it reached the point when technology enabled the
population to stop working and simply seek out pleasure, it set a moral
decay in place. Quite frankly I'm tired of people who have no interest
in defending themselves. I signed on to defend people, not spineless
jellyfish, and that's what our society has become. When the Insects
arrive, many of them will learn what hardship is like for the first
time. Many of the survivors, that is," said North, his tone so angry
and bitter that Dulin almost didn't recognize it. But then he addressed
Dulin directly, and that legendary calm was back. "Are the fighters
aboard yet?"
Dulin distracted, quickly turned to check his board. "Uh, Yes
sir. And I'm showing temporary repairs to the cruiser have been
completed as well."
"Compliment the repair crew on their fine work," said North
unemotionally. "Let's get under way. Set course for June, maximum
speed."
Chapter 2: The Brief Battle for June
Admiral Whyold Zarat was the soldier in charge of the
Directorate's fleet defenses.
North's opinion of the League's civilian leadership was only
slightly lower than Admiral Zarat's opinion of the Directorate's
civilian leadership. Until one year ago the Directorate, the junior
partner in the Alliance with the League, was under the brilliant
leadership of Steven Quick. Quick, widely accepted as a supergenius,
had founded the Directorate and ran it as an enlightened dictatorship
for as long as Zarat could remember.
Quick took over from the previous corrupt and inefficient bureaucrats
of the old Cahill Republic and created a model of government that even
the League, which had a traditional disdain for dictatorships, found so
admirable that they sent their people over to study how their
bureaucracy worked. Quick also built up and modernized the Directorate
fleet and made it a vibrant partner in its coalition with the League,
especially during the early years of the war against the Insects.
But all that changed a year ago when Quick's ship blew up under what
could only be termed suspicious circumstances. Quick's handpicked
successor, Administrator (now Director) Tel Kalin immediately took
over, and quickly made a mess of things.
First there was the explosion of the reactor at the enormous military
base on Tentus IV. Somehow a chain reaction started which vaporized the
base. The result: 20,000 sailors and their families dead, 20 ships
lost. It was a tremendous blow to fleet morale. Kalin made things worse
by pinning the blame on several of the Directorate's most distinguished
Admirals, forcing a number of them into retirement before their time,
even though most of them had nothing to do with the accident on Tentus.
Then as part of a "modernization" program Kalin retired fifteen
perfectly capable ships of the line before their replacements were made
ready. In fact, since Kalin had taken over, Zarat hadn't seen a single
replacement ship come off the assembly lines. There were "problems in
production" he was told.
Then the final straw came two months ago when a drive explosion on one
of the newest class of battlecruisers forced all ten of those
battlecruisers out of service for "inspection". Despite repeated
inquiries, Zarat had had no word on when he was going to get those
ships back either.
So there he was commander of a once mighty fleet of a little more than
100 ships, now down to a demoralized group of 55 ships, all because of
the incompetence of their leadership. There was already talk in the
ranks about getting rid of Kalin and putting a new leadership in place,
a military leadership, and if the situation didn't improve soon, Zarat
might be forced to take sides. Kalin's predecessor, Quick, had been a
civilian, but he had shown by example that he knew how to run the
military. Kalin didn't have that touch.
Currently the fleet was stationed in orbit around June, the capital of
the Directorate. Well, at least Kalin had had the good sense not to
agree to send the fleet to this ridiculous armistice the League had
agreed to with the Insects. Zarat knew it would be a trap; the only
question in his mind is how many League ships would survive the trap.
There had been no word from the League fleet since the meeting at
Vitalics had begun, several hours earlier.
"Admiral, I'm getting a communication from Director Kalin, for your
eyes only," said a crewer.
Kalin entered his ready room, and keyed in a code. A hologram of the
Director appeared in front of his desk.
"Admiral, you're there. Good. Prepare the fleet for attack."
"Attack, sir?" From the Insects? How could they attack this far
into their territory without being detected?
"The Insects are about to attack June," said Kalin.
How did Kalin know this? "Sir?"
"We haven't much time. The Insect fleet will outnumber and
outgun your fleet by at least two to one. Your orders are to engage
them in one pass only."
"One pass only?" This was only getting more confusing. "And then
what?"
"Disengage and make for open space. Head out and stay alive as
long as possible."
"You would ask us to abandon June after a show of no more than a token
resistance!" Despite his dislike for Kalin, Zarat was prepared to obey
reasonable orders. But this wasn't a reasonable order, not by a long
shot. He should leave the Directorate open to invasion? For a moment
Zarat started to think that maybe Kalin wasn't merely incompetent;
perhaps he was actually a traitor. That would explain the weakening of
the fleet.
"I realize these orders are hard for you to accept. And I also
realize that circumstances have forced us to have a rocky
relationship."
"Nothing you can say will make me abandon the Directorate. Sir." said
Zarat stonily.
Kalin paused, checking something. "This conversation is scrambled. If
you stay and fight your fleet will eventually be destroyed. And it's
important for your fleet to survive."
"What is the sense of surviving if we're not going to be able to defend
our planets?"
Kalin lowered his voice. "I was told, if you resisted this
order... I was told to tell you to trust me, I know what I'm doing."
Told? Who tells the First Director to do anything? And then the
words struck home. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing." There was only
one person in the galaxy who had used that line frequently, when
talking to Zarat.
Suddenly, an incredible thought burst into Zarat's mind. Kalin,
watching the transformation of his face, nodded. "I see you understand.
But you are to tell NO ONE about this conversation, not even your most
senior officers." He then proceeded to give Zarat a series of secret
instructions that he needed to commit to memory, and also provided him
with three names.
"Understood," said Zarat, when he was done. "Director? Will this really
work out?"
Kalin sighed. "In the short run.... no. But at least this way we'll
have a chance of restoring what we're about to lose."
Zarat swallowed. Well, at least he knew the truth. "What about you,
sir, will you need evacuation?"
"Don't worry about me, Admiral, just take your fleet to safety. Kalin
out."
Zarat sat alone for a moment. Then he activated ship-to-ship. "I need
to speak to the following three officers, alone. Secured channel." He
called for the names of three communications officers on three
different ships.
When Zarat returned to the bridge he said, "Prepare for battle."
"Battle? Against whom?" said an aide.
"Admiral! A large number of enemy ships are showing on our scopes!"
cried the scanner officer. Suddenly, the ship was on alert.
Zarat didn't even ask a single question about the size or
composition of the enemy. Instead, he simply said, "Prepare to conduct
a single pass. Then set course out of the system."
"We're just leaving?" said an aide, stunned.
"Follow my orders!" Zarat barked.
"Where will we set course?" the aide asked.
Zarat considered for a moment. Kalin had told him to set course
for deep space. And yet... War Admiral North's League fleet was at
Hunt's World. That was only a stone's throw from June. Suddenly, it all
made sense. Zarat had wondered why North had stationed the fleet at
Hunt; strategically, it made no sense. But now he realized why; Hunt
was the League world nearest to June! North had intended to join forces
all along. If he survived whatever the Insects had planned for him,
Zarat was sure he would send his ships to June. In fact, he might even
be on the way there now.
Zarat checked the long range comm. The Insects were jamming all
frequencies. But it all made sense.
"Once we get clear we'll set a course for Hunt." Once they linked
up with North's forces, then they would head out into deep space.
The Insect fleet, 70 ships strong, came blazing into the June
system. The June orbital defense stations opened fire, and the
Directorate Fleet raced out to engage the Insect fleet. But after a few
brief seconds of laser fire, the Directorate fleet whipped right past
them! The Insects braked and turned in a leisurely fashion, confident
that the Directorate Fleet would turn back and meet them.
But the Directorate fleet kept going... all was going according
to plan, until they reached the edge of the June system, where they ran
into the rearguard, 22 Insect heavy cruisers.
The command chamber on the Insect flagship was filled with
holographic displays showing the movements of the Insect fleet across
League and Directorate space. Hive Queen Zsst watched the screens with
satisfaction, flexing her many arms and tendrils as she chittered
softly to herself. She was so distracted that she almost didn't notice
the hooded creature enter her chambers. Almost. It was impossible not
to notice the curtain of fear that descended everywhere the went.
"All goes well," says Zsst. "The human fleet at Vitalics was
completely wiped out."
"I know," said the hooded creature. "But what of Norman North's
fleet, or the Directorate fleet?"
"Mere mopping up operations," said Zsst dismissively, waving one
of her arms. "Their fleets are small and inconsequential."
"Then how did Norman North's 'small and inconsequential' fleet
defeat the much larger one you sent against it?"
"What? How do you know this? I have yet to hear reports-"
"Norman North is alive, and his fleet is intact," said the hooded
creature. A hint of green peeked out from under the hood. "And as you
know from personal experience, while Norman North is alive, he is a
threat. Dispatch three more fleets to find and intercept him."
"I will," said Zsst. "But we will have to try and project where
he will go."
"I have already provided this information to the Admirals of your
fleet. I launched them on their mission ten minutes ago."
"You gave orders to my fleet!" thundered Zsst.
"To be fair, they thought the orders came from you," said the
creature, undisturbed.
"Watch your step, Baraki," said Zsst. "One day you may go too
far."
Baraki, the hooded creature, stepped closer to Zsst, saying
nothing. Zsst became noticably uncomfortable, and suddenly flinched as
if struck, and pulled back.
"We shall see," said Baraki.
"Any word from June?" said North, pacing back and forth in the
command area on the bridge.
"There's still jamming in place," said Commander Wren. "We're
about halfway there; there's only about four more hours to go. Almost
there."
"It's very fortuitous that we happened to be so near June in the
first place," Captain Dulin remarked.
If he was asking a question, the War Admiral gave no answer.
"Sir, picking up ships, on the scanner!"
"Battle stations!" said North. Then, over the klaxons,
"Identify!"
".... 51 ships... They're Directorate ships, sir, all of them.
Looks like they've been in a fight...."
"We should be able to punch through the interference locally. Get
me Admiral Zarat."
The holographic field shimmered and a Directorate naval officer
dressed in white appeared. "This is Captain Alada of the Directorate
Flagship June Defender."
"Where is Admiral Zarat?"
"Admiral Zarat is dead, War Admiral," said Captain Alada. "I
count only 34 ships on your end. Where is the rest of your fleet?"
"All destroyed." said North.
"All destroyed?" Alada looked stunned. "At Vitalics?"
"At Vitalics," North confirmed. "I commanded only a small portion
of the fleet, and we took some losses when we were ambushed at Hunt's
Moon. We came here to help as soon as we could."
"Appreciated, Admiral, but we're quite all right. We only lost
four ships in the attack on June."
"How did you escape with such light loses?" said North, frowning.
"We didn't engage the first wave and immediately headed out
system. It was only when we ran into the backup group that we took
losses; that's when a missile struck the bridge and killed Admiral
Zarat-"
"Didn't engage the first wave? Why not?"
"Admiral's orders. Or rather, orders he received from June."
"Really," said North. His frown only grew deeper. "What else were
your orders?"
"I'm not sure. Admiral Zarat received them orally in private
during a conversation with Director Kalin. All he told me was that we
were to link up with you at Hunt's Moon. Beyond that, I don't know what
his plans were."
"I see." North was silent for a moment, hands clasped tightly
behind his back, as he paced back and forth a moment.
"War Admiral? We have to act," said Alada.
"What? Yes," said North, snapping out of it. "I suggest we travel
to Orotis, where we can get resupplied-"
"Orotis is on the far end of the League."
"Precisely. It's probable that the Insects won't have gotten that
far yet."
"We have imminent reports of an invasion of Jarja," said Alada.
"Twenty two transports, with only ten escort ships. We could take them
easily."
"What about the fleet following you?" North said.
"We have no indications we've been followed; they're probably
just as happy that they've chased us away from June."
"Assuming you're correct, how do you know there's not a secondary
escort fleet following a safe distance behind the Jarja attack force?"
"War Admiral, you're being too cautious-"
"I tend to get that way when 90% of my fleet gets destroyed. We
are the only effective fighting force left in the Alliance."
"And what would you have us do with this fighting force? Run
away?"
North drummed his fingers on his console. "We don't know the
disposition and location of the enemy force. We don't know exactly how
they destroyed the fleet at Vitalics. They may have some new weapon or
kind of ship we have yet to see. I don't favor rushing in when we're
the only attack force left."
"Well, I have a different interpretation."
"What about your orders?"
"I don't know what my orders were beyond this point, and
transmissions in and out of June are being jammed." Alada's holoimage
faced North directly. "We're going in. Are you coming with us?"
North shook his head.
"Then we'll just have to do it on our own. I hope you decide to
take a stand somewhere, Admiral," said Alada. He made a motion, and his
image faded.
"What are we going to do?" Captain Dulin asked. "Are we going to
assist them?"
North stared off into space.
He shook his head, mostly to himself. "The fools," said North.
"The poor, bloody fools."
The Insect fleet burst into the Jarja system unopposed. Jarja II
was a medium sized colony world that didn't have any ground or orbital
defenses. The other planets in the system were uninhabited. The Insect
fleet had just reached Jarja IV when the Directorate fleet under
Captain Alada caught up to it. The Insect escort ships immediately
peeled off and engaged Alada's forces, but they were outnumbered.
The Directorate fleet blasted through the escorts, and in a few
short minutes wiped them out. The fleet turned to chase the Insect
transports, when all of a sudden, a massive Insect attack fleet pounced
on them--twenty battleships, twelve battlecruisers, thirty four
cruisers, and thirty destroyers.
Suddenly, the hunters became the hunted. A number of Directorate
ships were instantly vaporized by the superior firepower.
"Evade, evade!" cried Alada into the intrafleet comlink. The
fleet started to turn and desperately speed away, but the Insects were
in hot pursuit. Alada's battlecruiser tried to turn about, but was hit
by simultaneous multiple torpedo attacks, and was blown to bits.
On a nearby battlecruiser, an officer reported to the fleet's
next ranking officer, Captain Bennett. "Captain Alada's ship has just
been destroyed!"
Suddenly, a hologram appeared on Bennett's bridge, and the bridge
of every other Directorate ship. "Attention, Directorate forces.
Proceed immediately to these coordinates," said the very familiar
figure in a light blue uniform with four stars and silver eagles on his
collar, pointing to a set of figures on a holographic display.
It was War Admiral Norman North!
"Admiral!' said Bennett, shocked. "My name is War Captain Michael
Bennett, I'm in command-"
"No time. Follow my instructions. It's your only chance," said
North. He appeared to check an indicator on a console out of holoview.
"If you want to live, you'd better hurry."
"Instruct all ships to hone in on those coordinates," said
Bennett. "Scanners, do you pick up North's fleet?"
"Negative," said the scanner officer. Then, "Captain, these
coordinates will have us going through the far side of the Jarja
asteroid belt!"
Of course! North's fleet must be waiting in the belt to ambush
the Insects. The Directorate fleet followed the main path through the
asteroid belt set out by the coordinates provided by North. But when
they reached the belt and were inside it, Bennett still couldn't pick
up any sign of North's fleet hiding in the belt. Where were they?
On the other side of the Asteroid belt, the Command Carrier Glory
and the rest of the League fleet was at rest, waiting.
"They've just safely past the second group, sir," Commander Wren
reported.
"Very well," said North. "Activate the mines."
The Insect fleet sped across the narrow channel as mines exploded
around them. Because the path through the asteroid field was so narrow,
there was no way for them to avoid the explosions. After several ships
in the lead were hit by explosions and destroyed, the Insect fleet
skidded to a halt and tried to reverse course. Several of them couldn't
stop in time, and rammed into each other.
"They're going to take the long way around, but it won't take
them too long" said North, speaking holographically on Bennett's
bridge. "Are all your ships capable of top speed?"
Bennett checked a damage report. "No. Four of them have drive
damage."
"Scuttle them and take the crews aboard."
Bennett opened his mouth to protest.
"And quickly," said North. "That is, if you want to live. We'll
be here for another 20 minutes to provide you with covering fire. Then
we're leaving; any ships that want to come with us, can come; the rest
stay behind," he said, bluntly. Once again, he was giving the orders.
From the Log of War Admiral Norman North,
Commander, Combined Alliance Fleet:
We're nearly four days out of Jarja and the shock still hasn't worn
off. We had a combined fleet service yesterday, for everyone lost at
Vitalics, for the League sailors who died at Hunt's moon, and for the
Directorate sailors who were lost at June and Jarja. But it hasn't
quite sunk in emotionally that all our friends who we've served with
for years are gone. We know it, intellectually, but since we didn't see
most of them die at Vitalics, I think everyone is holding out hope that
somehow, some of them survived. To think that men I served with for
decades, even centuries, are just gone, dead, is too difficult to deal
with.
The bridge goes silent whenever we receive a transmission. We
keep hoping we'll hear from other surviving warships. But of course we
never do; even if one or two warships did survive, they would be much
wiser to maintain radio silence; that would prolong, at least for a
time, their survival in now-occupied League and Directorate space.
We are getting transmissions, but they are disturbing ones. We're
getting images of planets being conquered, of giant ships setting down
in our cities, chasing civilians down, herding others to whatever the
Insects have in store for them.
At that point the transmission from a planet under attack is
usually shut down as the Insects take control of the transmission
facilities. But then the Insects start transmitting again, and they
show disturbing pictures.
Humans in collars, whipped and beaten by the Insects, forced to
provide slave labor. One particular scene burned into my memory.
A young woman, digging with a metal instrument in the ground.
Something she did upset the Insect overseer. Maybe she wasn't working
fast enough. Or maybe she was doing nothing wrong at all.
The Insect stood over her, its arms twitching, and it gargled for
a second, as if bringing up something through it throat. Then it
vomited, spitting a pink liquid onto the woman. She shrieked, fell to
the ground, and started to tremble with fear. Obviously, the liquid was
having some kind of effect on her neurological system. A man, seeing
what was done to her, rushed up to the Insect, yelling, "What are you
doing to her?"
The Insect just cackled, and lifted the man in its many arms, and
then the arms moved swiftly, and the man was decapitated--his arms,
legs, and head.
Hardened bridge officers wept when they saw this broadcast; and
from then on I ordered the comm officer to screen what was being
relayed over the general comm.
Why are they broadcasting such atrocities? Don't they realize
that they will just make us fight harder? Perhaps they intend for it to
be demoralizing. Which brings us to another problem.
Many of us, in fact nearly all of us still have relatives on our
home worlds. Thank goodness we haven't seen any of them in these
broadcasts. But we know that they have almost certainly been drafted
into forced labor, or worse. What of our families? Will we ever hear
from them again? Are they still alive? And do they even know that we
are still alive? Probably not.
It was with these black thoughts that I listened to Commander
Wren give our status report. Seventeen Directorate ships were lost in a
matter of minutes at Jarja. That means 34 of their ships, and 35 of
ours. 69 ships left to face the massive onslaught of the Insect fleet.
We have enough fuel, ammunition, and supplies to reach Orotis,
our outermost shipyard on the far edge of League space. I expect that
the Insects may anticipate our move and send forces to meet us there;
but I'm gambling we can get there first and resupply as best we can.
What we can do from there is unclear. One option is to start hit
and run raids, splitting into small groups of ships and launching
guerrilla warfare attacks against the Insects. But guerrilla warfare
only works when you have a lot of guerrillas, and a lot of places to
hide. There are only so many habitable worlds in the Alliance, and we
only have 69 ships. It's my feeling that sooner or later massive Insect
fleets would hunt us down and destroy us. We might do some damage in
the short run, but eventually they would destroy us.
If hit and run isn't an option, then what is? I'm a soldier,
trained in conventional naval combat. I was trained to fight fleets
against fleets. But a fleet of 69 ships can't defeat a fleet of
hundreds of Insect ships... unless we have an advantage. That's part of
the reason we're heading for Orotis; that may be the first step in
finding ourselves an advantage we can use against the Insects.
Just a little under three more weeks to Orotis.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
From the Log of War Admiral Norman North,
Commander, Combined Alliance Fleet:
Two weeks after Vitalics.
We stopped to catch our breath, and found it to almost be our undoing.
My original plan was to head directly for Orotis. But then three
of our ships started to develop engine trouble, and Danmark II was
almost directly in our flight path. Captain Bennett, speaking for the
Directorate fleet (replacing the late Captain Alada, whose ship
perished at Jarja), suggested we stop there to make emergency repairs--
two of the limping ships were his.
Actually, "suggested" may not be the right word. Even from the
very beginning of the Alliance between the League and the Directorate,
there's always been some tension when a Directorate commander had to
take orders from a League officer, or vice-versa. There have even been
rare occasions where each have gone their own way due to "creative
differences" over battle strategy.
But we can't afford to have creative differences now. There are
too few of us left. Bennett obviously respects me, and he didn't state
his suggestion as a demand, but I still sense he's not fully ready to
buckle down and take orders from the senior Alliance commander.
Unfortunately, that could be our undoing.
A week ago I would've let him go his own way and do as he would.
But there are too few of us left now. No longer will I passively sit by
and let things unravel. I've already seen the terrible price we've paid
for our inaction. My inaction.
Bennet's suggestion does have some merit. I don't want to leave
any ships behind, and those three ships have valuable sailors on it. We
could evacuate the damaged ships, but with our shipyards out of
commission each ship is priceless, irreplacable. Nevertheless a rest
stop does give the enemy more of an opportunity to catch up with us,
even though we have no indication that we've been pursued. Logic
suggests that the Insects are too caught up swallowing the sheer size
of their latest acquisition to go after us, but we can't afford to take
chances. Despite my concerns, however, I have authorized a quick stop,
and even my own officers concur with Bennett's suggestion to drop out
at Danmark II.
Nevertheless, if there comes a point where I have to relieve
Bennett of command to save them all, even if I have to arrest him, even
if I have to court martial him, even if I have to execute him, I'd do
it, in an instant. Never again will I sit passively. Never again.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The fleet was still decelerating into orbit when they received a
transmission from Governor Delapan of Danmark II.
"Admiral! I knew the fleet would save us! We heard the worst-"
"The worst is true," said North. "What you see before you is all
that's left of the fleet."
"All?" Delapan frowned. "You mean, all that's left of the sector
fleet?"
"All that's left of all the fleets. All of them," said North.
"And I'm sure our would-be conquerers aren't far behind us."
"The entire fleet," said Delapan, stunned. He took a few moments
to digest this. "Well, it's good you've arrived. Please take up
defensive positions around-"
"You misunderstand, Governor," said North. "We're on our way out
of this region of space entirely."
"But... you can't just leave us defenseless!"
"I'm afraid we have no choice," said North.
"I order you to assume defensive positions around our planet,"
said Delapan. "You are military, and are bound to obey the orders of
civilian authorities-"
"-no longer," said North bluntly. He knew that even under normal
circumstances that the Fleet wasn't answerable to planetary governors.
But he wanted to drive the point home. "I'm declaring this entire
sector under martial law. Our crews are coming down to take on
supplies; we also want all available merchant spacers to be made ready
to join our convoy-"
"You can't just give orders!"
"I can," said North. "My troops are coming down armed. If anyone
resists or hinders us, they will be shot."
"What! I won't permit-"
"We have your transmission zone pinpointed," said North. "If you
incite rebellion or attempt to issue orders contrary to ours, we will
flatten your administrative area with a proximity missile."
"What... why...."
"Politician. Dissembler. Traitor," North spat. "You're all the
same. Because of your kind, we've lost everything. If you want to make
yourself useful, start working on your surrender speech for your new
masters, who will be along soon. End transmission!"
The silence on the bridge was deafening. The crew had never heard
North be this... visceral before, even when dealing with the enemy. His
anger with the civilian authorities was intense, but it was only
magnified and exacerbated by his anger with himself.
Commander Dulin looked worried but said nothing. Lieutenant
Commander Wren cleared her throat, and said, "Sir, don't you think-"
North glared at her, and she fell silent. Wren turned away.
And then, in a voice almost too low for anyone to hear, he muttered,
"Not again. I won't let it happen again."
Transports and shuttles from the fleet touched down at the main
spaceport. And it was a madhouse. Word had gotten out about the fleet's
landing, and the approach of the Insect forces, and mobs rushed the
spaceport, hoping to escape. Everyone wanted to get aboard the few
merchant ships left that were being conscripted to join the fleet.
Major Fortran, commander of the Glory's marine battalion, bit his
lip. The word going around was that North had given him strict "shoot
to kill" orders; Fortran, who had received the orders face to face,
knew that this was only a slight exaggeration. North had authorized
him to use restraint if possible, but to "take all measures necessary"
to ensure the cargo was obtained. Fortran's men were on guard at the
spaceport perimeter, holding back the crowds, while the regular navy
people took on supplies and made the remaining civilian spacers ready.
The screaming crowd surged, and one of the perimeter security
fences buckled, and fell. The crowd pushed forward towards the thin
line of League Marines. Fortran could hear over his command monitor the
corporal in charge of that section of the cordon frantically calling
his platoon leader for instructions.
"Sir, sir, what do we do?" said the Corporal, as the crowd surged
forward. He was waiting, almost fearfully, for that dreaded
instruction, "WFC", weapons-free clearance, a fancy way of giving
permission to fire into the crowd.
But before the platoon leader could respond Fortran broke into
the command circuit. "Warning shots first! Fire rounds, over their
heads!"
His men fired a series of laser volleys over the crowd's head.
The crowd screamed, pulling back. Fortran barely had time to exhale
before the next hot spot demanded his attention. When had they ever
gotten so desperate as to be at the point of firing on their own
people?
"The reports are coming in; there isn't very much available in
the way of supplies at the spaceport, except for fuel, and seven
civilian and merchant spacers" said Commander Dulin. "Perhaps if we
went farther inland...."
"Too dangerous. Not enough time," said North, looking into the
air.
"Sir, three of those ships are passenger ships, and even the
merchant ships can take on some passengers," said Dulin meaningfully.
North continued to stare into oblivion. "Millions of people, and
we get to choose the handful that get saved. But are we really saving
them? We're going on a journey that none may return from. Maybe they'd
be better off where they are."
"Sir?"
North waved a hand dismissively. "Tell ground control that once
everything is loaded to take some passengers aboard. But that should be
the final task, and only after all the cargo is loaded aboard. There
will be a stampede once the word gets out. What progress is there on
the repairs?"
Suddenly, the alert klaxons blared.
"Report!' said North.
"An Insect fleet is entering the system."
"Composition!"
"...14 ships, four scouts, five destroyers, five cruisers, four
light, one standard class."
"Battle stations!" said North. "Jam their frequencies! I don't
want any message getting through!"
The battle was brief but fatal--for the Insects. Even North's
small fleet outgunned the small attack probe. The Insects lost three
destroyers and two light cruisers in the first engagement. Deciding
they had had enough, they turned tail and ran... right into the arms of
the vanguard force North had purposely positioned behind them.
When all was said and done the Insect battle group was destroyed,
but two of North's cruisers were damaged, one beyond immediate repair.
"Evacuate the heavily damaged one," said North. "And the other
ship?"
"Damaged, but spaceworthy," said Wren.
"What about the three ships that were undergoing repairs to their
drive units?"
"One has been repaired. Repairs are pending on the other two."
"Tell them they have one hour to make repairs. If they can't make
their ships reach at least 90% of fleet flank speed, evacuate their
ships and scuttle them."
"An hour?" said Dulin.
North swiveled his command chair to face Dulin. "We can't be
certain they didn't get a message off before we engaged them. Also,
this combat probe is bound to be missed. Those are my orders."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
From the Log of War Admiral Norman North,
Commander, Combined Alliance Fleet:
Three weeks After Vitalics
We're just a few hours out from Orotis. I suppose I should feel a small
sense of victory that we've made it this far without further losses. I
say "should" because I don't; there's no joy in making a hasty retreat.
Basically, we're retreating out of Alliance space at top speed, and so
far no Insect ships have come so far so quickly to catch us running
with our tails between our legs.
Which brings me to the subject of what we do next. Some of my
officers have begun floating the idea of hanging out here, at the rim,
and conducting hit and run raids on the Insects, when they come out
this far. But if guerrilla warfare won't work in the core of our
homeworlds, it will hardly work much better here. We'd have some
successes in the beginning, but sooner or later the Insects, with an
overwhelming number of ships, would hunt us down and destroy us.
Guerrilla warfare only works when you have a secure base of operations
to retreat to and get resupply from; very shortly we will have neither.
I've been giving the matter of what to do next a lot of thought.
There are really only two ways to have any realistic chance of destroy
the Insects. First, we could build more ships. But that could take
years, and the first thing the Insects will do is to destroy or occupy
all our shipyards.
That just leaves one other possibility. If we can't get the
numbers we need to take back our homeworlds, the only other way a fleet
this size could defeat the enemy is if we had superior technology. And
that, I'm afraid, will require us to leave Alliance space altogether.
It's risky; for one thing, we won't have any established means of
resupply when we're gone. And it will mean leaving everything that we
know. Outside of our fleet, we may never see another human face again,
if ever. But we need to go into the uncharted regions if we're to find
what we're looking for.
For it isn't by chance that I selected Orotis as our final
destination inside of Alliance space. The University of Orotis is known
Alliance-wide for a certain field of study that will be vital to us in
our search. The study of historical xenology. The study of the
Monumentals.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The remnants of the Alliance Fleet successfully made it into orbit
around Orotis without further incident. North split up his fleet,
sending portions of it out on barrier patrol around the outskirts of
the system while his main force took up position above the planet.
The governor of Orotis, though hardly pleased by the turn of events,
was more willing to be cooperative than the governor of Danmark II, and
offered his assistance in the resupply effort. Orotis, while hardly a
major hub by the standards of the core worlds, was one of the largest
trading areas on the fringe. Eighteen merchant ships were in orbit or
on the ground when the fleet arrived, and all agreed to form a convoy
along with the ships that joined their fleet at Danmark II. The
merchant skippers figured, correctly that they'd get better protection
if they joined with North's fleet, though if they knew that they were
to undergo a journey that might last years or even decades, they
might've had second thoughts.
While the resupply efforts were underway, North took a military shuttle
down to the University of Orotis. Dulin and Wren had tried to veto his
decision, but he was adamant; but he did agree to take a platoon of
Major Fortran's men, most of whom touched down on an accompanying
assault transport.
As Orotis didn't have its own landing facilities, the War Admiral made
a splash as his shuttle landed on the front lawn of the sprawling
campus. The War Admiral, flanked by a security detail, stepped off the
ramp even while the shuttle was still venting exhaust gas. North slowly
plodded across the campus, flanked by the security platoon, oblivious
to the curious onlookers. He knew exactly where he was going; having
done his research even before leaving the Glory: what he wanted was in
the Department of Historical Xenoscience.
North found the faculty members and research scholars waiting for him.
"Good, gentlemen, I see you received my message," he said calmly. "As
many of you may know, my name is War Admiral Norman North. I command
what's left of the Alliance fleet."
There was a small murmur in the room.
"The Insects will be coming here soon, perhaps in several days, or even
several hours."
"What are you going to do?" said the head of the department, Professor
Stevenson.
"There's not much we can do," said North. "Nearly all the fleet was
destroyed. That's why I've come to you gentlemen. You're going to help
me defeat the Insects."
Shocked glances.
"That's right. We're preparing accommodations for you and your senior
researchers on the Glory. We're taking you all on a little trip."
"Trip? Where?" They asked.
"To find the Monumentals."
The Monumentals. An extremely technological advanced older race
that had existed hundreds of thousands if not millions of years before
mankind. Thought to be long extinct, some of their works had survived--
a few artifacts here and there, a few scattered monuments on distant
worlds.
"The Monumental are gone," said Stevenson
"True, Professor," said North. "But not their works." He lowered
his voice, but still spoke loudly enough to be heard. "The situation is
grim. We no longer have the numbers to defeat the Insects. Our chance,
our only chance, is to find some piece of Monumental technology we can
use to destroy the Insects. That's why I need you people. You've made
some good progress in deciphering the Monumental monuments. You can
help us locate other Monumental sites, and maybe even point us in the
right direction of where to go."
"Researchers have been searching for Monumental artifacts for
centuries, and most have turned up little or nothing," said Stevenson.
"What makes you think we'll fare any better?"
"We have no choice," said North. "If we stay here, we'll be
destroyed; if we dance around the sector, we'll only be postponing the
inevitable. This is our only chance. If it will take time, spent it
with me. I'll see it through with you, if you come with us."
A researcher said, "This could take decades, or longer."
"Yes."
"Our colleagues on August or June are really more knowledgable in
this area and maybe they-"
"Your colleagues on August and June are already being fitted with
Insect control collars and are now slaves of the Insects. Do you really
want to be in their company right now?"
Stevenson said, "Let me have some time to talk it over with my
people."
North shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we have no time. The
Insects could be here at any time. We'll only have a few minutes
warning before they reach in-system, which won't be enough time to
evacuate you and your staff."
"Admiral, I think we need to vote-"
North shook his head again. "You don't understand; I'm not asking
you to accompany me; I'm telling you. I offered an explanation out of
courtesy. Lieutenant!"
"Sir." The platoon leader stepped forward.
"Allow these men to gather any papers or files they need. But
they're not to leave the building, and I want them boarded on your
assault transport within the hour. If they resist, carry them. If they
run, stun them and carry them."
"An hour!" said Stevenson. "But what about our families? Our-"
North's face softened ever so slightly. "Call them. If they want
to come, we'll make room for them. Just be honest with them--we're
going away for a long, long time, and there's no telling when we'll be
coming back." Turning on his heel, he marched backed to the shuttle in
the company of two marines. Much as he wanted to supervise the
evacuation of the scientists, events were moving too quickly, and he
didn't want to be caught on the ground when the Insects arrived.
"Glory," he simply told the shuttle pilot, as he strapped himself
in.
His concerns seemed justified when the shuttle, on final approach
to the Glory, was relayed a proximity alert from the bridge.
"How many of them are there," North asked, stiffening
immediately. His mind was racing; could they evacuate the scientists in
time? How had they gotten here so quickly? If the attackers were only
another small combat probe, maybe they could repell them....
"Just a moment," said Wren, studying the data being relayed from
their out-system pickets. "Just one... it's one of ours, Admiral! A
fast attack destroyer, the Suny Blue! Wait... I'm getting a relayed
message...."
"What is it?" North asked, straining to listen over the sounds of
the shuttle landing in the bay. With a scrape and a small bump the
shuttle touched down securely in the hanger.
"The Suny Blue was assigned to Armistice duty at Vitalics," said
Wren, her voice filled with awe.
One hour later the Captain of the Suny Blue, Tens Zender, was
standing at attention in North's command office, just off the main
bridge.
"At ease, Captain," said North. He gestured for Zender to sit
down. "We didn't know that anyone survived the ambush at Vitalics. Did
any other ships get away?"
Zender swallowed. "No sir, not that we saw. But it was quite a
hectic situation."
"I imagine," said North. He gazed cooly at Zender. "I'm very
interested to hear how you got away. I'm even more interested to know
how you found us."
"Found you, sir? We didn't even know any elements of the fleet
had survived," said Zender. "Once we escaped we realized that most of
the fleet was probably destroyed. We were pursued by Insects ships in
the area around the core worlds, and barely managed to escape. Finally
we decided that our only chance for survival was to make for the fringe
worlds. I guess you came to the same conclusion."
North nodded. "But how did you survive Vitalics? What happened at
Vitalics?"
"Well, sir, I'm not really sure." Zender swallowed again, and got
a pained look on his face as he tried to recall unpleasant events. "The
Insects sent ships forward to meet us. They weren't military ships--
actually, they looked more like cargo ships. The ships launched these
round, spherical objects, a lot of them."
"What kind of objects?"
Zender shook his head. "We don't know. But when these objects got
near us they exploded, spreading a fine mist. It took down the shields,
weapons, and power systems for most of the fleet. Then they started
launching wave after wave of rocket attacks at us. It was a slaughter."
North's hands grasped his chair more tightly, but otherwise
betrayed no reaction. "And how did you escape?"
"We were on the very edge of the formation. One of the
battleships got wise that something is wrong and opened fire on the
ship heading closest to us. The Insect ship wasn't destroyed, but it
was damaged enough so it stopped launching globes at us."
"Did any other ships fire back?"
"Not that I could see."
"What battleship was this? Did you see what happened to this
battleship?"
"I don't know," said Zender. "Once we heard reports of power
failures throughout the fleet, we knew we had to steer clear of the
mist field, which we were mighty close to. When we saw what was
happening to the fleet, we knew there wasn't much we could do... so we
escaped. Or tried to escape. We were hunted for several days by several
battle groups. They got a few potshots at my ship before we managed to
get out of range, but they kept up the chase. We managed to evade them,
hiding out in an asteroid field for several days. After we got out, we
knew we'd have to escape, so we headed out here."
"And did you see or hear of any other ships escaping from
Vitalics?" said North. "If you were clear of the field, perhaps others
were as well."
"Perhaps one or two," said Zender. "But if there were, we didn't
see them."
"Hm." North drummed his fingers on his desk. "And they were
simply destroying the fleet, not taking any prisoners."
"Not that we saw," said Zender quietly.
North's face grew grave. "A lot of good men died that day,
Captain. And I served with a lot of them for a long time."
"Yes sir," said Zender. "Sir? What do we do now?"
"Return to your ship," said North. "Naturally, you'll join our
fleet. We're going on a little journey. You'll get details on that
soon. Dismissed." As Zender turned to go, North hit a button on his
command console. "Captain Dulin? Please report to my ready room."
Dulin entered a few seconds later. "Sir?"
"Have a tech team go over Captain Zender's ship from stem to stern."
"What should they be looking for?"
"Anything out of the ordinary. Tracking devices. Anything. Then have
sickbay do a thorough medical scan on our Captain and his senior
officers. Have them look specifically for any signs of medical
tampering."
"You suspect a trap?"
"Unlikely, but possible," said North. "I believe the young man is
telling the truth. But I still find it hard to believe that anyone got
out of Vitalics alive." He told Dulin what Zender had relayed to him.
"I wonder who that battleship captain was and what happened to him."
"His ship would've been vastly outnumbered; he was probably
destroyed, along with the rest."
"Probably," said North. "When you're done with my little errands,
call all senior captains to a meeting in the briefing room in two
hours. It's time we got moving."
The briefing room was packed when North arrived, several minutes
late. Normally he insisted on punctuality for all under his command,
including himself, but he had just been on the line with the medical
staff, and received a preliminary report from his tech team. Zender, it
appears, was in the clear.
"Gentlemen," said North, gazing at the assembled Captains. Every
senior captain was there, mostly Command Captains but a sprinkling of
War Captains as well. Most senior captains were in charge of the larger
ships, the heavy cruisers and the battlecruisers, but several captains
in charge of destroyer battle groups were present as well. Also present
were North's senior staff--Dulin, Wren, and Colonel Robert Dey,
commander of the Glory's starfighter squadrons. North noticed that all
the white uniformed Directorate captains sat on one side of the room
with Captain Bennett, who had been second in command to the late
Captain Alada, while all of North's light-blue uniformed League sailors
sat on the other side. That would have to change.
North quickly related Captain Zender's story. A hushed silence
fell on the crowd.
"What kind of a weapon could render our fleet defenseless?"
"We don't know yet what kind of a weapon it is, but we know its
effect," said North. "It makes ships defenseless. If we stick around
here, we're just giving the Insects an invitation to try it out on us."
"No one is proposing that we stay here," said Bennett. "What do
you propose, War Admiral?"
North slowly walked around the room, staring at different faces
in the crowd, both Directorate and League officers, as he spoke. "We
know now that this battle won't be won by sheer force of numbers. In
the past we have won victories even when we've been outnumbered, but
never by margins of five or ten to one, never when the enemy is as
technologically advanced or more advanced than we are."
"Therefore if we cannot win by numbers, we must prevail by
utilizing superior technology. We have to develop new weapons that will
let our little pocket fleet destroy the Insects."
"How do we develop this new technology?" said one of the
captains, Captain Harkness, of the second largest ship in North's
fleet, the pocket battleship Blue Luna. He was a crusty old officer,
but very reliable; and as Captain of the Blue Luna, he was technically
third-in-command of the fleet, should anything happen to North and
Dulin. North frowned inwardly; with the combination of the two fleets,
he would have to give some serious rethinking to the chain of command.
But not now.
"Perhaps 'develop' was a poor choice of words," said North.
"We're not going to develop this technology, we're going to find it."
"Where do we find it?" Someone else asked.
"Out there," said North, pointing out the viewport. "Out among
the stars. Among the Monumentals." He paused to let this sink in. "All
of us know from the bits and pieces of Monumental technology we've
discovered that they were vastly superior to what we've developed now.
If we can uncover an abandoned Monumental base, or even the remnants of
one of their ancient cities, we may be able to harness enough of their
technology to help us defeat the Insects."
"The galaxy is a big place," said Bennett. "We could search for
centuries and not find anything."
"I've recruited a bit of help," said North. "Leading researchers
on the Monumental from the University of Orotis have patriotically
decided to sign up and join our efforts to search for the Monumentals.
I'm not saying it will be easy, and it will take time, but I think it's
our only chance."
"But if we leave human space, how will we be resupplied?" one of
the captains wanted to know.
"We won't be," said North. "Your ships already have the ability
to grow a limited supply of your own food. We will be augmenting this
ability with hydroponics equipment that we're bringing up from Orotis.
We can plant gardens in our cargo bays and on the civilian ships which
are joining us."
"And what of spare parts, and fuel?"
"We have an ample supply of spare parts at present, but we will
have to improvise," said North. "As for fuel, we can adapt our
collectors to run on plasma from any nearby sun."
"Plasma!" said one of the Captains. "Even if you get that to
work, we won't be very fuel efficient; and we'll have to constantly be
refueling."
"Not constantly," said North. "More frequently, yes."
"And what if it takes us a century of looking to find what we're
looking for--that means another century just to get back to Alliance
space!" said another. "The farther out we go, the longer it will take
us to return."
"I never said it would be easy, and there's no guarantees. But
it's our only choice," said North.
"What if we stay here, and start a hit and run operation? We
can't destroy them, but we can sting them, wear them down," said
another.
North shook his head. "Guerrilla tactics work where you have a
network of friendlies who can resupply you and give you sanctuary for
repairs and refueling; we don't, or won't, for very long. Sooner or
later, they'd find us and destroy us."
Bennett said. "War Admiral, I hear what you're saying, but you're
asking a lot. You're basically asking us to leave mankind behind, and
perhaps never to see our people again for years, if ever again in our
lifetimes.... It's a lot to ask."
North looked at the assembled officers. "Most of you know me, if not
personally, from fighting side by side in battle, then from the legends
of what I've accomplished. For hundreds of years I've fought to keep
the Alliance safe. You know what I've accomplished, what I've achieved,
despite sometimes overwhelming odds. I'm asking you to trust me again,
now; and to join me, not as League sailors, or Directorate sailors, but
as one group. Alliance sailors. Only by sticking together can we
survive. Otherwise, by this time next year we'll all either be wearing
Insect slave collars, or we'll simply be dead. I'm offering you an
alternative to this certainty. Now who will stand with me?"
At that moment North's stern face looked as if it had been chiseled
from stone. He stared at the assembled officers like a searchlight
staring out at the darkness. Wherever he gazed confusion, and fear, was
replaced by confidence, and resolution.
North's officers stood up, almost as one, and declared themselves for
him. But he knew they would. The Directorate officers, however were
seated, each looking at the other, as if waiting for an unspoken
signal.
"I don't like your plan," said Captain Bennett slowly. "But you warned
us against going to Jarja; and if we had listened to you, this room
might be a good fuller than it is now. You saved us then, just as you
saved us before and undoubtedly will do so again. I know your history,
War Admiral, just as I know you, and while I say I have doubts about
your plan, I have no doubts about you. Where you lead, I will follow."
And then Bennett' men stood up as one, and declared themselves for
North. And after that day, though sailors knew if in the past they had
belonged to the Directorate, or the League, they simply called
themselves soldiers of the Alliance now, and War Admiral Norman North
was their leader. That didn't mean there would never be factionalism or
disagreements again, but at that moment, they were more united than
they ever had been.
It was two days later before outlying warning beacons, dispatched
far beyond the edges of the Orotis system, sounded the alarm; a fleet
of Insects ships, some 104 ships strong, was on its way. Although
information on the composition of the attack force was sketchy, it was
composed of at least 60 capital ships. This was no small combat probe.
Immediately, transshipments from the planet ceased; the fleet
formed the formations that North had worked out with Dulin and Bennett;
and the fleet was made spaceworthy within an hour. There was a last
minute crush of people trying to reach the civilian ships; but only a
tiny number could be taken, and then only after they agreed to maintain
the hydroponic farms on the spacers that were appropriated by the
fleet. As the ships accelerated away from the planet, there was more
than one teary eye as the image of Orotis, the last human outpost they
would ever hope to see, shrunk from a round oval into a shiny dot in
the sky... and then it was gone.
When the Insect fleet arrived in-system twelve hours later, there
was nothing to greet them but Orotis itself and empty space, no trace
of North, or the rest of the fleet, which were long gone, in search of
a slender chance and a wild hope.
Chapter 3: The Insects Make A Dangerous Enemy
"David!" said a pleasing but insistent voice.
A serious looking dark haired man continued to hack away at the
soil with a hoe, listening to the birds chirp on... what was the name
of the planet? Just beyond the edges of Alliance space, it only had a
numerical designation, but the man had been giving some thought to
giving it a name. All in good time; with Amy, there was always time.
"David!" came Amy's voice, from the house he had built.
The man dropped the hoe, sighing. He really didn't like leaving
things undone. But he never had been able to resist that voice.
He made his way back to the house, admiring the trees as he
listened to the birdsong. This planet was almost perfect, and probably,
given it's location just a dozen lightyears out from the frontier world
of Orotis, would eventually start to attract settlers in 20 or 30
years. Well, 20 or 30 years was a long time, and even then it was a big
planet; He and Amy would have it to themselves for a long, long time.
She leaned against one of the supports on the porch, squinting at
him in the late afternoon light. He stared back at her, realizing he
could never wish for a better sight.
"David, it's happened!" she said, pulling him by the arm and
taking him inside to the interstellar radio. The man listened to the
babble of reports. The Insects had destroyed the fleet. The Insects
were taking over. The Insects were landing on habitable worlds.
The man said nothing. In another time, another place, his first
impulse would be to hop into his fighter and blast off. But he had Amy,
and Amy had him, and they were alone, together, and what else really
mattered? He said as much.
She looked at him oddly. "Aren't you worried that they'll come
here?"
"This is an empty world," he said. "And it's a big galaxy. I'm
sure they'll have much better things to do with their time."
"But David, what if they come?" she said, pressing against him.
"Don't worry," the man said, wrapping his arm around her.
"Probably nothing will happen, not for years."
They came almost ten weeks later. The first inkling he had of it
was when he heard the roar of the Insect scoutship touching down near
the house. He was hunting in the forest when he saw it, and he started
back to the house on a run, his blaster drawn.
He heard the screams just as he reached the clearing, and saw Amy
lifted up by the neck by one of the Insect troopers. There were four of
them, and the other three quickly pointed their weapons at the man.
"Wait!' said the man, approaching slowly. "There's no need for
this!"
"Surrender," said one of the Insects through its harsh
translation device. Amy struggled to breath in its grasp
The man lowered but didn't drop his weapon. "We're not a threat
to you."
"Drop your weapon," came the modulated voice. "Surrender."
Amy, screaming, continued to struggle, flailing her feet; and one
of her random kicks caught the Insect holding by one if its legs. The
Insect, perhaps annoyed, but not really hurt, twisted its grip; and
there was a crack, and then Amy's lifeless body was tossed to the
ground.
"NO!" the man screamed, and he fired his blaster; and even though
three of the four Insects had their weapons aimed at him, and his was
lowered, he managed to kill all four of them with a single shot to each
of their foreheads before any could fire back.
The man ran over to Amy, and felt a long moment for a pulse.
Sobbing, he cradled her head in his hands and cried hysterically.
Later, much later, the man found himself standing over a freshly
dug grave; the tombstone had been carved out of rock by a blaster, and
the flowers on the grave were fresh, though the man had no memory of
how either got there.
He stood at that spot a long time, and as the sun sank low, he
muttered, "They took the only thing that ever meant anything to me...."
Then he paused, for a long time, and said, every so softly, while
staring after the setting sun, "This isn't over...."
******************************************************************
War Admiral Norman North eyed the status reports. They had
managed to save 64 active warships and 24 merchant/civilian vessels.
The foremost and proudest of them was, of course, the Glory, his
combined command carrier/battleship. Unfortunately, they didn't have
any other battleships or dreadnaughts in the fleet; they had all been
lost at Vitalics.
But he did have a number of smaller capital ships at his command.
There was the Amory Til, a converted heavy cruiser/half carrier that
was jammed packed with three squadrons (it was rated for two). There
was the Blue Luna, a pocket battleship which didn't quite have the
punch of a true battleship but was almost as heavily armored and
shielded as one. There were eight battlecruisers in the fleet, four of
them the newest Tiger-class ships.
But the bulk of the fleet were cruisers--12 light, 11 regular (7
of those being deep space cruisers), and 7 heavies. The rest of the
fleet was a mix of destroyers (including seven of the newest fast
attack destroyers) and frigates as well as one minesweeper/layer.
But of course, no discussion of the fleet's military assets could
be complete without a discussion of starfighter support. They had a
little over 250 starfighters, with eight squadrons packed on the Glory
and three on the Directorate half-carrier, the Amory Til. The Blue Luna
carried a full squadron, and the rest were scattered in three's and
four's throughout the fleet. The Glory's squadrons were the most modern
version of the Wildcats--the 145-D and 150-B's, while the Defenders
were 78-J's. The rest of the fighters were of similar configuration,
both from the Directorate fleet and the ones we had picked up at the
Battle of Hunt's Moon, though some of the Wildcats were of the older
variety, and they had also acquired a small collection of miscellaneous
fighters--variants on the Lancer 4FF's, mostly.
North had positioned the fleet in a classic symmetrical double V
position, with the bulk of the heavy cruisers and battlecruisers taking
point in the first formation, and most of the weaker ships in the rear
"V", though supported by a sprinkling of heavies, such as the Blue
Luna. The Glory was positioned in the center, between the two V's,
providing close support to the merchant vessels, who were also in the
middle. The formation was hardly original and had its weaknesses, but
for now that was the way North left it.
He had bigger matters to attend to. The mess and maze of
logistics he handed off to Captain Dulin and Commander Wren and the
other ship captains as much as these tasks were delegable. The
civilian ships had to be converted to growing food as soon as possible.
Some of the larger ships, like the Glory and the Blue Luna, had a
"full/full" complement of hydroponic labs--theoretically, they could
grow enough (rationed) food to support their crews indefinitely. But
the battlecruisers and the smaller ships had much smaller hydroponic
bays, and were on "half/full" status; they could supplement, but not
fully replace food stocks. North hoped the merchant ships, once
properly converted, could provide enough food to make them self-
sufficient; now that they had left Alliance space, he didn't think
they'd be able to resupply for some time... if ever.
Fuel they would eventually run out of, but they had begun
switching over to process hydrogen, which they could skim from any
nearby star. The energy burned less efficiently, but was an acceptable
substitute. The fleet had a fair supply of medicine, including the
anti-aging vaccine, with enough supply in stock to give boosters to the
entire crew for at least the next 50 years. Then they would start aging
again.
Another important issue was unit cohesion. The fleet was an
mixture of League forces, which North originally commanded, and allied
Directorate forces, who only recently joined forces with them. Though
the two had been allied all during the long war with the Insects, North
knew that there was some resistance on the Directorate side to taking
orders directly from him, especially from the top, from the highest
ranking surviving Directorate officer, Fleet Captain Michael Bennett,
now stationed on the half-carrier Amory Til. The Directorate had their
own procedures, their own chain of command, even their own uniforms
(Directorate white as opposed to League blue), none of which helped to
integrate the two forces.
North had almost had a knock-down fight with the man last week
when he ordered him to redeploy his ships. Bennett had wanted to keep
the Directorate ships together, but North wanted to deploy some of his
battlecruisers to different parts of the "V" formation. It was bad
enough that the man questioned his orders, but to do so in front of the
other fleet Captains was inexcusable. Something would have to be done
to improve unit cohesion.
Another thought on North's mind, but still not the foremost one,
was the composition of the forces that pursued them. They had retreated
out of Alliance escape quickly enough, which prevented the bulk of the
Insect force from catching up to and destroying them; but over the past
several weeks they had been harassed by small attack forces, indicating
that there was still a pursuing fleet behind them.
But even the constant threat of enemy attack was not foremost in
North's mind. Foremost in North's mind was the higher goal, of finding
the technology that would defeat the enemy. That meant searching out
the hidden technology of the Monumentals. North had risked capture and
destruction of the fleet by stopping at Orotis to pick up several of
the leading researchers on the Monumentals, notably Professor
Stevenson, but it had been a risk worth taking. North had consulted
with Stevenson frequently on where they should go to conduct their
search. He had hoped that some of the artifacts that Stevenson had
examined might contain clues that could help.
But Stevenson had given a bitter laugh and said to North, "War
Admiral, I've been searching for Monumental artifacts my entire life.
There are, or were, a lot of them out there, but it's a big galaxy, and
most of those that have been found have been plundered by other races."
When pressed for a direction, Stevenson had been unable to provide
specific guidance. Nevertheless, he had given North one important piece
of information: every Monumental artifact that had been found in
Alliance space had been found on habitable worlds. And habitable worlds
only orbited certain types of stars. That, at least, narrowed their
field of search a little bit.
So North constantly studied Lieutenant Shishman's long range
scans, looking for appropriate star types or even tentative scans of
distant planets to find those which were more likely than not to be
suitable. But he had to admit, even to himself, that it was like
searching for a needle in a haystack, and it might takes years for them
to find anything useful.
Still, they had to try. And so North constantly ordered long
range Wildcat patrols to head out in pairs in every direction ahead of
them to look for signs of habitable planets.
"Well, this has been another swell patrol," said Command Captain
Idaho Took. He checked the scanner to compute, once again, the range
back to the Glory. Another routine patrol, a few planetless stars, and
billions of gallons of empty space.
"Would you rather have run into an Insect patrol?" said his
wingman, Lieutenant Kato Obe.
"A small one, maybe," said Took. "At least it would've given us
something to do." Took certainly wasn't itching for a full-scale Insect
attack, but Obe shared his frustration. It had been almost two weeks of
quiet now, and it had been too quiet. Obe checked his scanner, saw
three blips, heading in the same direction as they were, back to the
Glory, but coming from different directions.
"Getting something on scanner," said Obe.
"Must be Marsten's patrol," said Took. He switched to general
comm, "Mars, is that you?"
"That must be Took," came the voice on the other end.
"Uh, Mars, this is Obe, how many ships do you have in your
patrol?" Obe asked.
"Two," came Marsten's voice. "You know that."
"Then why do I have a vector on three ships coming in from your
direction?"
Took checked the scanner, saw he was right. He did a focused
scan: the three ships looked like Wildcats, but only two of them were
145-D's; the third ship resembled a Wildcat, but had a different
design; definitely not one of theirs.
Took set an intercept vector. "Unidentified starfighter, this is
War Captain Took of the Command Carrier Glory. Identify yourself."
They got silence for a response. Took checked the scanner. The
fighter had already shot past Marsten and his wingman, and now only
Took and Obe stood between it and the Glory.
"Do you suppose it could be one of those Directorate guys from
the Amory Til? They could be on a different frequency?" said Obe.
"Different from general broadband?" said Took. "Not likely. And
take a close scan of that ship. It looks like someone took it apart and
put it together with a totally different set of pieces--the thing looks
like an antique that's been mish-mashed together from ten different
sets of fighter parts."
"If it's such an antique, why is it almost outflying us?" said
Obe.
At full speed they caught up with the ship just short of the
fleet. It was as old and battered as the scan had indicated; and it was
heading straight for the Glory.
Took activated his targeting scanner. "Unidentified ship,
identify yourself!" He got no answer. Took let go a volley just short
of the unknown fighter, who banked to the right immediately as the bolt
launched, and turned around to arc towards Took. Took, tense, repeated,
"This is your last warning! Identify yourself!"
Suddenly there was a scratching sound on his comm, as if a long disused
circuit had been activated or repaired. "Do not fire," said a flat
voice. "I am an allied force."
"Who are you?" said Took. He noticed Obe and his wingman closing.
Good. Reinforcements had arrived.
There was a silence for a moment, as if the pilot didn't want to
identify himself. Then, the deadly cold voice spoke, "Ken Pilot, 04."
Took looked over at Marsten, who was flying parallel to him. "Ken
Pilot? THE Ken Pilot?"
"That's impossible. The Ken Pilot, that Ken Pilot, he must be
dead by now," said Marsten.
Took radioed the Glory. "Glory, we've got a problem here."
Colonel Darley, the Glory's starfighter command, had been
monitoring communications on the bridge, and he quickly called over
Captain Dulin and explained the situation.
"A Ken Pilot?" said Dulin. "The Ken Pilot, 04?" He shook his
head. "Extremely improbable."
"Should we get the War Admiral?" said Darley.
Dulin shook his head. "He's busy with Professor Stevenson. It
could be a trap, or a kamikaze. Let's see what we have first." He
toggled the comm. "Unidentified vessel! This is Captain Dulin of the
Glory; we will send a shuttle out to meet you. Cut drive and wait for
rendezvous."
"The Glory?" said the voice, as if the name meant something.
"Glory, I'm coming in." The fighter accelerated.
Dulin spoke to the fighters. "Took, Obe, stop him!"
"Stop him?" came Took's voice. "You mean, blow him up?"
"You heard me," said Dulin. "He could be a kamikaze!"
"All right," said Took, with great reluctance. What if this guy
was who he said he was? Blowing up one of the greatest fighter pilots
of all time wouldn't be a great way for Took to end his day. He looked
at the fighter several dozen feet ahead of him, then looked down at his
targeting scanners... odd, the ship didn't show up.
Took looked up again, and understood why; in the short time he
had taken to check his scanners, the ship was had accelerated rapidly
towards the Glory.
"Speedy little bug," Took grunted. Took and his wingmen
accelerated to maximum speed. He lined up for a shot... even at this
distance he should still be able to hit the fleeing fighter... he
squeezed the fire button, and a ball of energy burst out... missing the
aging ship.
By now Obe and Marsten and Marsten's wingman, Chang-Wha, were
firing too, and they were all missing. It was very odd; just as they
aimed and put the fleeing ship in their sites, it weaved, bob, or
jittered to another vector. After a half minute of worthless firing,
Took reported, "Sorry sir, he's out of effective range."
The fighter was by now about a full minute ahead of Took and
almost at the Glory.
"Tell laser gun crews to target and open fire!" ordered Dulin.
"Sir?" said the ops officer.
"Do it!"
A hail of small caliber laser fire opened up on the old fighter from
the smaller caliber artillery on the Glory, designed specifically to
take out hostile fighters. But the unknown fighter turned and twisted
in every direction, avoiding several trails of laser fire, still
heading unstoppably into Bay Two.
Dulin sounded the alarms. The fighter wasn't decelerating. He had
visions of the fighter packed with explosives, ramming into the bay.
"Clear the bay!" he yelled as the klaxons blared.
At that moment War Admiral Norman North came onto the bridge.
"What's going on here?"
The fighter accelerated to ramming speed... and then, at the last
moment, braked furiously, and came to a perfect three point landing
less than ten feet from a supporting bulkhead inside the bay.
That part of the bay, being partially evacuated, was empty when
the cockpit opened and the occupant emerged....
Took and his wingmen were only a few seconds behind the intruder,
and they landed their ships in near picture perfect formation next to
his and took off after the pilot, who they could see running down the
main corridor just outside of the bay.
"Bridge, I have him in sight, seal off sections fourteen through
seventeen on Deck 24," said Took, drawing his blaster as he took off in
pursuit.
Thick bulkhead doors slid into place behind and in front of the
intruder farther down the hallway. Took ran down the hallways, trailed
by several other pilots and security officers who had joined the fray.
He waited for them to catch up. There was no need to rush any more now.
"We have him," said Took. "Ok, open bulkhead door 17-J."
He stood to one side, his weapon drawn, and the other officers
positioned themselves in such a way to give themselves a clear aim from
different angles. If the intruder tried to resist he would be dead
very, very quickly. But this guy seemed to have very fast reflexes;
could he take out Took and several others before getting shot himself?
Took tried not to think about that as the door slowly grinded
open, revealing... an empty chamber.
After looking about carefully, Took entered the chamber, and then
looked up, and saw the dark hole cut in the deckplate above. "Nimble
fellow," Took commented. He spoke into his comm, "He got away."
"We know," came a new voice, the War Admiral's voice. "He's here
with us now."
The Ken Pilot was unsurprised to see the weapons drawn and
pointed at him as he entered the bridge. His own blaster, still warm,
was in his hand but not raised. He looked about at all the unfamiliar
faces, until he latched onto a very familiar one.
"War Admiral," he said.
North nodded slightly. "David. It's... surprising to see you
here."
"Meaning what am I doing here, and now, in a very big galaxy when
you're probably being hunted down by the Insects who are chasing you
like mad and using every trick in the book to catch you," said the Ken
Pilot. "You're suspicious and want to make sure I'm really what I
seem."
North nodded. "A reasonable precaution. After all, I haven't seen
you since the celebration on Eratta, after the battle of Karis."
The Ken Pilot pursed his lips. "You mean, of course, the
celebration on Whenfor, after the Battle of the Doublestar."
North nodded to the Ken Pilot, and to one of his officers as
well. She approached the Ken Pilot, and ran a scanner over him from a
cautious distance. Without turning to face North she said, "I'm sensing
a highly advanced nervous system, War Admiral. He's either a
Graftonite, or something just like it."
North nodded. "Lower your weapons," and all blasters were
simultaneously reholstered. At that moment Took and Marsten entered the
bridge on the run. "What did I miss?" Took asked, nearly breathless.
"I stopped at one of the frontier colonies you passed by after
Orotis," said the Ken Pilot, getting comfortable in North's ready room.
"They said you were in the neighborhood."
"But what were you doing out here?" said North, handing him a
drink.
"Seeking a life, alone."
"Alone?"
"On a frontier planet," said the Ken Pilot. "With Amy."
"Amy," said North. He started to piece things together--the Ken
Pilot's tone of voice, the circumstances of his arrival. "They came for
you, even there, out in the frontier."
The Ken Pilot nodded.
North didn't ask any further, but he said, "You have my
condolences." He paused, considering. "You don't just want my
condolences. You want to join our fight, don't you?"
The Ken Pilot nodded again.
"We're heading out of Alliance space. We're not seeking out
fights."
"Fights will come to you," said the Ken Pilot.
The War Admiral arranged for the Ken Pilot to have a berth with
the other starfighter pilots. He was wise enough not to assign him to a
specific squadron; the Ken Pilot was about as a rugged an individualist
as one could get. Quite frankly, North wasn't sure how to fit him in
with their forces. Solitary assignments would be best. Maybe to make
him a long-range scout....?
Took and some of his buddies were getting lunch in the mess hall
when they saw the Ken Pilot sitting alone, in a corner. Took motioned
the others that they should join him.
"I don't know, Iday," said Marsten. "He's a stranger, and he
looks like he wants to be alone."
"Nonsense," said Took, with one of his irritating smiles. "A
stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet."
He approached the Ken Pilot. "Mind if we join you?"
The Ken Pilot gave no answer for a moment, and then, seeing Took
wasn't going to take silence for an answer, gave a small nod.
"Good," said Took, not overanalyzing the ambiguous body language.
He sat down, joined by Marsten, Obe, and two of the other pilots.
"By the way, we never got the chance to introduce ourselves when
we were shooting at you," said Took. "My name is Idaho Took. This is
Robert Marsten, Kato Obe, Ben Hunter..." he introduced the others.
The Ken Pilot sipped his drink.
Took, giving a small smile, said, "I didn't catch your name."
The Ken Pilot paused, considering. "David Norman."
"Some people on the bridge were calling you the Ken Pilot," said
Took.
The Ken Pilot continued to sip his drink. The tension in the air
was palpable.
"Are you?"
The Ken Pilot nodded. "I was a pilot on the Ken."
"But were you Ken Pilot, Ken Pilot 04?" Took persisted.
The Ken Pilot paused, as if considering the question. Then he
nodded.
"Can someone enlighten me?" said Marsten. "The Ken incident was a
bit before my time."
"Were you sleeping through your military history class at the
academy, Mars?" said Took. "The Ken was one of those old-styled
modified "quarter carriers", cruisers carrying one full squadron. They
tangled with an enemy fleet around Porstan-"
"Locutus," interrupted the Ken Pilot.
"Locutus," said Took, nodding, "and ran directly into an enemy
carrier, with three or four full squadrons-"
"Four," said the Ken Pilot.
"Four," said Took, looking at the Ken Pilot as he were a legend
out of the pages of history. "The Ken was swamped, of course, and her
fighters were quickly overwhelmed. The ship was destroyed, as were all
the fighters... except one. Ken Pilot number 04. The story goes that he
was outnumbered 40 to one, but managed to destroy all their fighters.
When a relief task force arrived, they found his ship just sitting
there, dead in space, out of fuel, surrounded by the carcasses of all
those enemy fighters."
"Really?" said Obe skeptically. "You destroyed 40 fighters on
your own?"
"41," said the Ken Pilot.
"41," Obe repeated. "Uh-huh."
"You know, you did some pretty fancy moves out there in that hunk
of junk of yours," said Took. "No offense, but it really looks like its
on its last legs."
The Ken Pilot made no comment.
"If you're going to fly with us, you should fly one of our 145-
D's or 150-B's."
The Ken Pilot shook his head.
"That bucket of bolts you're flying could come apart on you at
any minute."
"I can handle anything that comes my way," said the Ken Pilot.
"Yeah, you've got that look about you," said Took. He noticed the
other's confidence, took it for cockiness. "So, you think you're a
better pilot than us?"
"Iday-" Marsten interrupted.
"I can handle myself," said the Ken Pilot quietly.
"Do you think you could take one of us in a mock dogfight?"
The Ken Pilot nodded.
"Would you like to test that theory out?"
The Ken Pilot shrugged, as if he didn't care.
"Afraid?" said Took.
The Ken Pilot gave Took a cold, long look for a moment. Then he
said, "All right."
"Who do you want to fly against?" Took asked, hoping it would be
him. "Me? Obe? Mars?-"
"All of you," said the Ken Pilot.
"All of us?" said Took. "All right, we'll do a series of one-on-
one battles-"
"No," said the Ken Pilot. "All of you." He got up. "Meet me in
landing bay in 20 minutes." He walked away.
"You think he's trying to prove something?" said Obe.
"You think those stories of him taking out 40 fighters
singlehandedly are really true?" said Marsten.
"I think we're about to find out," said Took.
When they arrived at the landing bay they had their first chance
to take a good look at the Ken Pilot's ship. It was old, that much was
clear, and it was made of all different pieces, of all different sizes,
shapes and colors. It was as if someone had gone to a ship wrecking
yard and collected pieces from a dozen different ships and then glued
them together. How the different pieces were made to be compatible with
each other was a mystery; how it flew at all, much less so well, was an
even greater puzzle. In addition to forward weaponry, it also had a
small rear turret mounted into the high fin.
"That looks like something out of a museum," said Obe, none too
tactfully. "What is the hull based on?" He peered at it closely. "It's
a Wildcat 50 hull, right?"
"A Wildcat 5 hull, actually," said the Ken Pilot, climbing into
the cockpit. He eyed the arriving pilots who were streaming into the
launch bay behind Took and Obey. "Standard simulation protocol 1.2?"
"We use 8.0 now," said Obe.
"But we're downwards compatible," said Took hastily. "It will be
no problem." He eyed the other pilots. "Are you sure you want to take
us ALL on at the same time?"
The Ken Pilot just looked at him for a second, giving a slight
shrugging gesture, as he sealed his cockpit and started his preflight.
"This is going to be one for the history books," said Took.
Took dogged the seal on his cockpit. His entire squadron was
getting ready to launch. Elements of Obe's and several other squadrons
were going to their ships too, if not to fight, then at least to watch.
Took wondered what Colonel Darley would think of this massive
mobilization. Well, they could chalk it up to a training exercise.
"Remember," said Took over the comm, "No matter how cocky this
guy is, there's only one of him but ten or fifteen of us. If we keep on
him together, he might get one or two of us at best."
He thumbed the launch button and a fraction of a second later so
did the rest of his squadron, as well as Obe and two of his wingmen.
Almost the instant his squadron launched and cleared the hull,
Took noticed a flash of light to his right and some yells on the comm.
He quickly glanced at the SSP indicator and saw that three of his ships
had been hit and already taken out of action, slowing to a halt, dead
in space.
"What's going on?" Took said, seeing a battered Wildcat 5
suddenly come roaring ahead of his squadron. The Ken Pilot must have
been waiting for them, just outside the launchbay, and shot several of
their ships right as they launched. "An ambush right outside of launch?
That's not fair!"
The cold reply came immediately. "When the Insects start obeying
rules of combat etiquette, let me know so I can too." And then, after a
pause, "What's the matter, are only twelve of you insufficient to take
on one fighter?"
"Let's get him," said Obe.
"He's on my tail!" cried one of Obe's wingmen.
"Good," said Obe, getting behind the Ken Pilot. "Keep him
occupied for just a few seconds...."
He concentrated on his targeting scanner as the Ken Pilot's ship
seemed to weave and bob all over the place. The old W-5 seemed twice as
maneuverable as Obe's 150-B. Or was it just the pilot.
There was a flash of light ahead of him and then "He got me!" Obe
heard his wingman cry as the SSP, sensing the low-power laser hit, shut
down the ship's systems. But at that same moment Obe saw the Ken
Pilot's ship line up in his sights. He moved to squeeze the trigger...
and then there was a flash that blinded him, as the Ken Pilot's rear
turret blasted his cockpit. The blast was only at .1% strength, but the
power of the light was enough blind Obe for a few seconds. When his
vision cleared, his ship was dead in space.
The Ken Pilot continued to zoom this way and that, effortlessly
picking off squadron members while equally effortlessly avoiding the
gunsights of his hunters. The Ken Pilot seemed to be able to vector
right behind an enemy fighter and squeeze of a shot in a split second--
without any need to adjust his heading or to aim more carefully. He
seemed oblivious to fighters getting in behind him, only paying
attention when opponents almost had him lined up in their gunsights.
How he knew when that moment occurred, and how he was able to pay
attention both in front and in back of him at the same time, was a
complete mystery.
Took kept trying to take aim at the bobbing and weaving ship,
every few seconds punctuated by a flash of light and a cry over the
comm. He was about to take aim again when the Ken Pilot flew out of
view again, to line up against another target.
Took checked the SSP. There were only three pilots left, him and
two wingmen. The Ken Pilot had demolished an entire squadron in
seconds. "We need help," Took muttered.
"You got it," said Marsten's voice, taking it as an invitation.
Took had been so focused on the battle that he had paid scant
attention to what was happening in the background. As word had spread
of the battle, more and more pilots had come out to take a look.
Now Took's squadron was joined by more of Obe's pilots, and
Marsten's, and Hunter's, and Sirra's, and several others, all of whom
joined in the attack on the Ken Pilot.
This increased level of activity didn't escape notice on the
Glory's bridge. "Sir, scanners show nearly five full squadrons have
launched, and more fighters are joining them," said Lieutenant
Shishman.
"What's going on here?" said Colonel Darley. Were they under
attack? "Any enemy on the scopes?" Although he was under the command of
Captain Dulin, and above him, War Admiral North, the starfighters were
his direct responsibility. Captain Dulin wandered over and looked at
the scanners over his shoulder, an expression of restrained curiosity
on his face.
"No signs of enemy fighters," said Shishman. "Captain Took logged
in a routine training exercise a few minutes ago."
"With five squadrons? That's no exercise, that's full scale
wargames," said Darley, checking the scanners himself. He toggled the
comm. "Took! What's going on out there!"
Darley heard laser fire in the background.
"...I'm kind of busy right now, Colonel," said Took.
"Sir, I've analyzed the battle," said Shishman. "All the
squadrons are fighting one fighter, one person."
'Five squadrons against one person?"
"Six now, sir."
Captain Dulin turned to Darley, "That's bound to burn up a great
amount of fuel. Colonel, did you authorize-"
"No," said Darley. "Took, report!"
But Took was too busy trying to line up the Ken Pilot in his
sights. The laser fire aimed at the Ken Pilot was so thick now that
collectively it looked like large ship-board turret laser fire.
But still the Ken Pilot kept dodging this way and that; by the
SSP's count, he had now disabled 27 ships. But the pilots, frustrated
at being taken out of play, reset their SSP's and reactivated their
ship, so they only stayed "shot" for a few seconds.
By the time Darley reasserted control and ordered them back to the
ship, the Ken Pilot had shot down 39 distinct ships, and seven pilots
had the distinction of being destroyed twice by him. And his ship
hadn't been shot even once.
Now no one doubted that the Ken Pilot had destroyed 41 enemy
ships.
There was a sullen and awed silence when they landed in the bay.
They simply formed a circle around the Ken Pilot and stared at him as
he got out his ship.
It was Took who spoke first. "39 ships. Not bad," he said.
"I could have proven I could destroy 41 in a single outing if we
had had a few more seconds," said the Ken Pilot. It was the wrong thing
to say, rubbing salt into their wounded pride, but at that moment
Colonel Darley appeared, looking enraged.
"You, you, you and you, to the commander's office."
Took was the second "you".
After Captain Dulin had finished chewing them out for wasting
fuel and not following procedure, they were dismissed.
"I guess we took it a little too far," Obe muttered. "How did we
let it get out of hand?"
"I was too busy going too far," said Took, shrugging. "If you ask
me, pal, I wouldn't be worrying the most about this little incident,
but about what it shows."
"What do you mean?"
"This guy just proved that he can outfly any of us," said Took.
"Guess which one of us he's going to replace?"
"Not Colonel Darley," said Obe, considering.
"No, Colonel Darley doesn't fly Wildcats anymore. They wouldn't
put him in a position that didn't utilize his primary skill. Guess
again."
"Wildcat pilot," said Obe.
"Getting warmer," said Took.
"Wildcat squadron leader."
"Warmer," said Took.
"Leader of Wildcat "A"?"
Took put his finger to his nose. As everyone knew, the squad
leader of the "A" squadron, on any ship, was the most senior and
experienced combat officer. And that position was currently held by
Command Captain Took.
The same Command Captain Took who, an hour ago, couldn't manage
to destroy a single pilot with the assistance of 50 other pilots.
Things were quiet for the next several days; the other pilots
kept a respectful distance from the Ken Pilot. But Took, whose job was
most threatened by him, took a healthy interest in the silent fighter
pilot. He tried to engage him in conversation, but the Ken Pilot was
almost always noncommittal, or responded in single syllables.
Things came to a head a few days later when they were out on
patrol. Although the Ken Pilot, or K, as they had taken to calling him,
wasn't attached to any particular squadron, Colonel Darley had
"suggested" that the Ken Pilot accompany Wildcat A on its missions.
This had caused Took's blood to boil, but all he could do was nod and
pretended like he didn't care. It was obvious, now, whose job this man
was being groomed for.
Regular starfighter patrols screened the fleet, both in front,
behind, above, below, to port, and to starboard.
Took, Obe, and the K Pilot took the starboard patrol; elements of
Marsten's Wildcat B's and Hunter's Wildcat C's took the rest. Took's
patrol took them past the merchant ships in the center of their
formation off to the side of the fleet guarded by the Directorate
ships, mostly the battlecruisers.
"K, would you care to suggest an exit vector?" Took said.
There was no response.
"K?" said Took. "Obe, are you there?"
"I'm here," said Obe.
"Good," said Took, glancing at the Ken Pilot's starfighter to his
right. "Just wanted to be sure my comm was working."
About an hour into their patrol they detected blips on sensors.
Fighters. A dozen of them. Medium range sensors said they were Insect
type "G" fighters.
"Heads up, everyone," said Took. He contacted the other patrol
leaders on global flightcom. "There's too many of them. Let's regroup
and form up on the edge of the fleet, where we'll have equivalent
numbers--K, what are you doing?"
The Ken Pilot's ship had suddenly accelerated forwards, towards
the enemy fighters.
"Fighting the enemy," came the Ken Pilot's flat response.
"K, there are a dozen of them, and only three of us," said Took.
"What's your point?" asked the Ken Pilot.
"Standard procedure dictates that unless they contain a bomber
force, that we're to retreat and regroup to a point where we can
confront them with more even numbers. It will take just a few minutes
to regroup with the rest-"
"There's only twelve of them," said the Ken Pilot. "10, if you
don't count the two bombers."
"What bombers?" said Took, checking the scanners again. He didn't
see any bombers.
"Check the two fighters in the gamma part of their formation,"
said the Ken Pilot.
Took looked at them on the scanner. He didn't notice anything.
By now the Ken Pilot had streaked ahead of them.
"What's the call, Iday?" said Obe. "Do we go forward, or go back
and rendezvous with the other fighters?"
Took muttered silently for a moment. Maybe the Ken Pilot could
handle them as easily as he had the Glory's fighters in the battle
game... and maybe he couldn't. This was for real, and they couldn't
afford to take chances. Took hit his thrusters, and Obe followed an
instant later.
"Took, what's going on?" said Darley's voice over the comm. "Why
aren't you linking up with the other fighters?"
"Our buddy the Ken Pilot decided he didn't want to wait," said
Took. The Ken Pilot, about a minute ahead of him, was already thick in
combat. The Insect G's were swirling around like angry gnats, trying to
get a lock on him. But the Ken Pilot was seemingly oblivious to pursuit
as he took out one, then two, then a third fighter. The third fighter,
one of those in the gamma positions hadn't been attempting to engage
the Ken Pilot, and the resulting fireball when it erupted was several
times larger than that of the other ships.
Now at close range, Took chanced a short range scan of the other
gamma positioned fighter. It was packed with high explosives.
The Ken Pilot took out two more fighters before Took and Obe
arrived. Obe took out one immediately, but then got two fighters on his
tail which he tried to shake loose. Took got into a dogfight with two
other fighters, and the rest went after the Ken Pilot.
"I'm having trouble shaking them," said Obe, watching the
explosions around them.
"Hang on, I'll be there in a minute," said Took, lining up a
shot. He fired the instant the target was in his crosshairs, and it
exploded in a fireball. Ignoring for the moment the other fighter
following him, he turned and vectored towards Obe.
"Hurry!" said Obe, trying to do a tight turn but only succeeding
in showing more of his flank to his pursuers.
There was a blast from above and the Ken Pilot fired twice,
destroying both pursuers. Even as the second bolt left his ship, the
Ken Pilot launched another bolt from his rear turret, destroying a
third enemy simultaneously.
Took destroyed another ship, and the Ken Pilot took out the last
ship, the other gamma; it exploded in a brilliant fireball.
"Thanks," said Obe.
Elements of the forward and rear Wildcat patrol started to
arrive.
"Where's all the action?" said Ben Hunter of Wildcat "C".
"Sorry guys, false alarm," said Took over fleet comm. He switched
to ship to ship. "K, how did you know those ships contained high
explosives? You weren't close enough for a close scan when you first
gave chase."
"They were in the wrong position, moving in the wrong way," said
the Ken Pilot. And that's as specific as he would get on the subject.
Word of the Ken Pilot's latest achievement spread quickly though
the fighter pilot ranks. K seemed totally uninterested in discussing
what had happened or taking credit for it, but would answer questions
when asked.
Sitting in the recreation hall, Took muttered, "I wonder if I
should just save time and offer him my ship now."
"I don't think he wants your ship," said Obe. "I think he likes
his own."
"That battered old thing?"
"That battered old thing has a rear turret we don't," said Obe.
Took opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "Make
that item number one hundred and fifty five that I don't understand
about this guy. How does he fire BEHIND him? Even if he had a targeting
display for the rear quarter, we've seen him fire both forward and
backwards simultaneously. No one can concentrate on two firing displays
at the same time, I don't care how fast he is."
"He is fast," said Obe.
"Yeah," said Took. "Do you think I can find an opening to be a
Defender "G" pilot?"
The Defenders were the most heavily armored fighters in the
Glory's arsenal. But they were looked down upon because they were
relatively slow and not very agile; they tended to be used for bomber
duty.
"Maybe the War Admiral will give him a squadron on another ship,"
said Obe.
"Not a chance," said Took. "He's the best, and Wildcat "A" is the
best in the fleet. Remember last week when I was the best pilot, Obe?"
"No," said Obe.
The attacks started to come more frequently, once every few days,
then once every other day, and then, almost every day. Always it was a
handful of fighters, or a scout vessel or two, but now they didn't
usually stay long enough to engage in combat, or not for very long,
quickly retreating the way they came. After each attack the fleet would
reconfigure slightly, to move more and move of its combat vessels to
the rear, where the attacks were originating from.
The War Admiral convened a conference in his office with Captain
Dulin, Commander Wren, Colonel Darley, Fleet Captain Michael Bennett,
and several other fleet officers. All were present in person; the War
Admiral had no objections to holomeetings, but didn't want to take any
chance of having the transmission intercepted.
Captain Dulin led off. "You're all aware of the situation. We
obviously have an Insect fleet following us."
"Of course," said Bennett, flicking his dark eyes towards the War
Admiral, who sat silently at the head of the long table. Why wasn't he
leading the meeting? "What I want to know is why we aren't taking the
fight to them."
"We don't know their location," said Dulin.
"They're to our rear," said Bennett.
"We don't know their exact location," Dulin added.
"We can send out some scouts," said Bennett. "I think we should
locate them and destroy them."
"And what if they have an overwhelming force?" Dulin said.
"Let's at least find out what they have," said Bennett.
"No."
Everyone turned their heads.
"We will not tip our hand," said War Admiral Norman North.
Tip our hand, Bennett wondered. "Sir, respectfully, how does
sending out scouts to learn the enemy's strength tip our hand? If
anything, haven't we been tipping our hand by letting the enemy make
repeated contacts with us? I'm sure they've reported back the exact
disposition and layout of our fleet by now. I know you've been moving
some ships around after every battle, but the next scouting force they
send simply learns your new deployment."
"Precisely," said North. "And I won't have our hand tipped by
sending a scouting force to find out the nature of the enemy following
us. Any information we obtain on the size and nature of their fleet
would not be of any use. "
"But sir..."
"Don't you think it's curious that they've launched all these
probing attacks when they could have launched a real attack several
times over?" said North. "One of their goals is to provoke us into
attacking them, to provoke us into launching the faster part of our
fleet to the rear to strike at them."
"And you think that's a trap," said Bennett.
"I know it is," said the War Admiral firmly. "But that's only one
purpose of these scouting attacks. They already know the size and
disposition of our fleet. Part of what they're doing, I'm convinced, is
studying our reaction time and methods, and encouraging us to deploy
stronger forces to the rear part of our fleet."
"Which you've been doing."
"Yes," said the War Admiral. "Have a look at our current course."
He touched a button, and a holographic display came to life in the
center of the table. "Note this uncharted solar system we'll be
cruising through tomorrow. Note the large gas giant, 40 million miles
out from the sun."
"What about it?"
"That's where their fleet is; that's where it will be waiting for
us," said North. "When the front and now lightly defended part of our
fleet gets within striking distance, they'll strike. The bulk of their
fleet, gentlemen, has circled around us over the past two weeks.
They've tried to provoke us to attack their distraction force from
behind, leaving our front flank open; when that failed, they decided to
try and weaken our frontal defenses as much as possible for their
surprise attack."
"An interesting theory," said Bennett. "Do you have any evidence
to support any of this? Sensor logs from scouts?"
"No," said the War Admiral. "Sending out scouts too far, before
we're ready to act, would tip our hand. Normally, I would be the first
to gather intel, in a situation where I wasn't sure. But here, I'm
certain."
"Assuming your analysis is correct, what do you propose, War
Admiral?" said Dulin.
"I propose we send out a scouting force," said the War Admiral.
"I thought you just said you didn't want to do that," said
Bennett.
"I said I didn't want to before we were ready," said the War
Admiral. "If we simply sent a scouting force, and located them, they
would subsequently retreat, or move to attack our main fleet. But if
the scouting force is the attack force, then we don't give them the
chance to retreat or move away." He touched a button. The image of four
fighters and a small cargo transport appeared on the projection.
"You're going to attack with four fighters and a transport?"
Bennett said.
"Yes," said the War Admiral. "Anything larger may provoke an
immediate attack. My guess is that their fleet is hiding just in-
atmosphere of the gas giant, far enough in so that they're not
detected, but close enough to the edge so at least some of their ships
can detect incoming ships. If they see a large task force coming
towards them, they may emerge and attack, or emerge and retreat. And we
want them to stay exactly where they are." He pressed another button,
and a chemical analysis of the gas giant appeared by the image of the
planet. "Notice all the hydrogen? I propose to load the shuttle with
enough of the right elements to make it a catalyst. When detonated, it
will ignite a sizable chunk of the atmosphere."
"And it's crew?"
"The crew of the transport is no problem," said the War Admiral.
"It can be piloted remotely by one of the fighters. The most dangerous
job will be those of the Wildcat pilots. It will be their
responsibility to locate the enemy fleet and maneuver the transport
into position to detonate. If they detonate too far from the Insect
fleet, the enemy will have time to escape. If they detonate in a
portion of the atmosphere that doesn't have a high enough concentration
of hydrogen, the detonation may not produce a sufficient chain reaction
to destroy the enemy fleet."
"So our pilots have to move it into position and get out before
they trigger the detonation," said Wren.
"Yes." The War Admiral paused. "It's also very possible that they
will be spotted, and attacked by the Insects. If the transport is
prematurely detonated, the reaction will be triggered instantly. The
transport will have to be defended as well"
"Will our pilots be able to do that? Will they also be quick
enough to get in and get out safely?" This was from Captain Harkness,
of the Blue Luna, the fleet's pocket battleship.
"If we use our best pilots," said the War Admiral softly.
"That's the mission, gentlemen," said War Admiral North, facing
the Ken Pilot, Took, Captain Robert Marsten of Wildcat "B", and Captain
Ben Hunter of Wildcat "C". "You're not only our best pilots but most of
you are also squadron leaders. But this mission is vital to the
survival of our fleet. You'll be risking your lives to save thousands
in the fleet. Nevertheless, this is undoubtedly the most dangerous
mission I've ever sent you on. Because of the unusual circumstances, if
you want to refuse this mission, I will give you that opportunity."
Took felt an overwhelming urge to speak up, but he looked at the
others and said nothing. The War Admiral hadn't asked for volunteers,
he had picked them. He was offering a shameful way out, but in many
ways, it was easier to just go on the mission. Which the War Admiral
well knew.
"Uh, sir," said Marsten. "Who is in overall command of this
mission?" It was unusual to have several squadron commanders involved
in one discrete mission; usually, in such a situation, the commander of
the most senior squadron took charge.
"David Norman will be in charge," said the War Admiral, referring
to the Ken Pilot. His eyes flickered around at the other pilots, taking
in their reaction, but stopping at Took longer than anywhere else. "He
has more battle experience than all of us, and you have all seen his
incredible reflexes in action. I realize this is unusual; David isn't
even formally in our chain of command. But after this mission is over,
all will become clear. Any other questions? Dismissed. Oh, David, would
you please stay a moment?"
Took felt an enormous weight on his shoulders as he left the
briefing. Not only had he been pressed into risking his life on a
suicide mission, but if he somehow managed to survive it, it was clear
that he was going to face certain demotion.
The mission was rated top-secret, need-to-know only, so when Took
left the briefing he immediately went and told Obe all about it.
"...so if I do really well, and somehow survive this one-way
mission, I can return to a main corridor parade and a birth as a junior
lieutenant in "G" squadron," said Took.
"You don't know that," said Obe. "Anything can happen. What
happens if you come back but K doesn't?"
Took shook his head. "No one can touch him. He could go out for a
cup of gauche and leave his ship on autopilot and no laser bolt would
come near him. Ahhhh...." He sighed.
"Shouldn't you be more concerned about more immediate and
permanent matters, like being vaporized by the Insects or blown up by
our own transport, then your position in the squadron when you return?"
Obe asked.
"At least dying is quick, buddy," said Took.
The appointed time came; they entered their cockpits and started
the preflight. "Remember," came Dulin's voice in their ears. "You only
have eight hours to get their and detonate. At that point they'll pick
up the fleet on their scanners and attack."
"Understood," came the Ken Pilot's emotionless voice.
"Any last minute instructions?" Took asked their new mission
leader.
"No," said the Ken Pilot mechanically.
"This is going to be one for the history holos," Took sighed.
"Cut unnecessary chatter," said the Ken Pilot. "Launching."
His battered Wildcat 5 launched, followed by Marsten, Hunter, and
Took, and the transport. The Ken Pilot was controlling the transport by
remote. Took didn't think about, or even care, how the Ken Pilot was
controlling two ships at once.
They flew in silence towards the solar system, the Ken Pilot
taking point, followed by the other fighters, who bracketed the
transport in the middle.
"Switch to comm scrambler four. Stay alert," said the Ken Pilot,
shortly after they launched.
Then they heard not a word from him for nearly seven hours. The
gas giant was looming ahead in the sky, and Took's hand was tentatively
drifting towards doing a close scan, when his comm came to life.
"No close scans. Get ready to follow me in," came the flat voice.
Took, startled, looked to the right, and saw the Ken Pilot casting a
glance over at him.
Their flight path carried them near the gravity well of the gas
giant, as if they merely intended to cruise past it. But at their
closest point the Ken Pilot and the transport suddenly veered off and
headed into the atmosphere.
In seconds they were at the outer layer of the atmosphere.
"We must stay alive long enough to locate their fleet before
detonating," the Ken Pilot reminded them.
"And maybe, if we plan it just right, we can live a few minutes
after the explosion too," Took muttered.
The Ken Pilot ordered them to activate their short range
scanners. The atmosphere obscured sensor efficiency beyond a certain
distance, so long range sensors were useless....
The Command Carrier Glory and the rest of the fleet entered the
solar system.
"Sir! I detect enemy squadrons to our rear!" said Lieutenant
Shishman.
"How many?" said the War Admiral.
"At least four full squadrons," said Shishman. This was no
scouting probe.
"Launch fighters to intercept," said the War Admiral curtly.
"More ships coming into sensor range," said Shishman. "Two...
three heavy cruisers, four destroyers, one carrier...."
Dulin bit his lip, wondering, for once, if the War Admiral had
made a mistake.
But the War Admiral got a gleam in his eye and said, very softly,
"Only one carrier...."
"I don't see anything," said Took, trying to peer through the
swirling mists around him. Sometimes it cleared up so he could see as
much as a few hundred feet ahead of him; but much of the time, he had
to rely on sensors. Which were currently showing nothing.
"Course reset," said the Ken Pilot. He had them change course
several times, only instead of doing a standard expanding circular
search pattern, what he was having them do was more of an elliptical
pattern. Took wondered if the Ken Pilot knew what he was doing.
He didn't have to wait long to find out. A series of blips showed
up on his scanner. He tried to get a glimpse through the gas but the
clouds were too thick. Then he got closer, and the gas temporarily
cleared, and he saw them--Insect cruisers, frigates, destroyers, and
more, as far as the eye could see.
Suddenly a furious squadron of Insect fighters streaked towards
them.
"Uh, guys..." said Took.
"Guard the transport," said the Ken Pilot, racing out to engage
the fighters
Thus began one of the wildest dogfights of Took's life; only half
of it was fought visually; because of all the clouds, he had to fire,
and fight, through his instrumentation rather than visual sightings
much of the time.
Marsten, Hunter, and Took fought like madmen as they escorted the
slower moving transport into the mass of Insect ships.
"We should get ready to detonate," said Took, taking out an
Insect fighter a split second seconds before it lined up the transport
in its sights.
"Closer," said the Ken Pilot.
Supporting fire was starting to lance out of one of the bigger
Insect capital ships, nearly sheering the tip of Took's right wing.
"I think we are closer," said Took.
"We haven't located the carriers," said the Ken Pilot. He speeded
ahead, into the body of the fleet, desperately searching out his goal.
Another squadron of Insect ships closed on them, and Took could
see more were coming. And the capital ships were slowly starting to
rise out of the atmosphere. They were running out of time!
"We should detonate now!' said Took. "At least we'll take some
capital ships with us!"
"Got it!" said the Ken Pilot, with a rare display of emotion, as
he spotted the carriers. There were three in all, surrounded by a
phalanx of battlecruisers and battleships. "They're all here. Get to a
safe distance and I will-"
And then at that moment several things happened at once A bunch
of Insect fighters lined up for a targeting run on the transport. Took
shouted a warning, and they were forced to break off their own
dogfights to take out these new attackers. Took destroyed two of them
in rapid succession; Hunter got one; and Marsten got another, but just
as he fired, an Insect fighter he had been too distracted to notice got
a clear shot at him, instantly destroying his fighter.
Took yelled but had no time to be distracted. There were fighters
behind him firing laser volleys and there were still two more fighters
bearing down on the transport. He got one, and was zooming in on the
second when it opened fire, hitting the transport.
There was a spark, and a small flame, and part of the engine
section went dark. At that same instant Took's ship was hit, he felt a
jolt, and the ship went spinning.
The Insect who had attacked the transport realigned itself to
make another pass. Took wasn't going to be able to regain control in
time, and Hunter was caught in his own dogfight, and then-
The Ken Pilot came out of nowhere, and destroyed the Insect
fighter! Seconds later, he polished off Took's and Hunter's immediate
attackers as well.
"Get out of here, now," said the Ken Pilot.
"Can you control the transport?"
The transport was starting to sink deeper into the atmosphere.
Suddenly, part of its engine section ignited again, and its descent
slowed.
"Get out if you want to live," said the Ken Pilot. They all knew
the transport could blow at any minute, and a laser detonation would
surely incinerate anyone in the area.
In a split second Took noticed the fresh approaching squadrons, and the
capital ships leaving the atmosphere, and knew there was no more time.
He set a new vector and aimed at full speed, not even spending a split
second to wonder whether his engines were still working or not; Hunter
was already heading up into the atmosphere. Uncharacteristically, Took
didn't say a parting word.
The Ken Pilot took a full second to take in the situation
himself; the rising capital ship, the sputtering transport, the new
wave of approaching fighters, and the concentration of hydrogen in this
part of the atmosphere. His hands gripped his laser controls tightly.
It would be so easy... one small squeeze.
In that split second he made a decision, activated a weapon
toggle, and hit the fire button. Then he turned and headed out-
atmosphere.
Ten second later there was an enormous fireball astern.
The light was so blinding that it hurt Took's eyes even though he
was faced away from it. He felt the sheer heat building up as he
cleared the atmosphere. His rear sensors caught what was happening; the
slow, floating dark objects, now no longer obscured by the rapidly
incinerating atmosphere, bursting into pieces as they were engulfed in
flames. Those little objects were cruisers, and battleships, and
carriers, containing thousands of hostiles.
Took formed up on Hunter's wing; he had some battle damage too.
"You look like a mess," he said, wrinkling his face.
"Better messy than dead," said Took. He checked the rear scanner.
No sign of pursuit. Destruction had been total.
"He gave his life for us," said Hunter.
"They both did," said Took, thinking of Marsten.
"He really was a living legend," said Hunter.
"He really was," said Took. He grimaced as he remembered Obe
joking with him about the possibility of his being more likely to
survive than the Ken Pilot. Just what had War Admiral North said to the
Ken Pilot, after the briefing?
Took extended comm range and tried to reach the Glory. He was
surprised to get War Admiral North directly. "Mission accomplished,
sir."
"So I surmised," said North.
Was there anything this guy didn't already know?
"The diversionary force which engaged us quickly turned to
retreat when they saw that reinforcements weren't forthcoming," said
North. "This time we weren't in such a charitable mood to let them
retreat. We destroyed their entire force, and are just mopping up
operations now. What is your status?"
"Ah, Took..." said Hunter softly.
"Just a moment, Sarah," said Took. He cleared his throat. "We
lost the Ken Pilot and Marsten. They both died to save the mission." A
pause. "As far as I can tell, we wiped out several carriers, a couple
of battleships and battlecruisers, and a lot of cruisers and
destroyers," said Took.
"Actually, four battleships, seven battlecruisers, and 49
cruisers and support craft," said North.
"Took..." said Hunter.
"How can you possibly know that?" Took fairly shouted. The strain
of the day had been too much.
"I received a burst transmission from Mr. Norman several minutes
ago," said the War Admiral. He smiled. "I'm not omniscient. I just have
very good people working for me."
Took managed to pry an eye off his screen to check his rear
scanner. Sure enough, a battered W-5 was rapidly closing in on them.
There was a crowd cheering for them when they landed in the
Glory. The flight crew, the other pilots who had already returned, the
support staff, everyone seemed to know about it now. Even the normally
emotionless Ken Pilot was startled to see complete strangers hugging
him.
Shortly before the awards ceremony, held later that day, the War
Admiral met with the pilots to congratulate them personally.
"...so I detonated the transport with a missile, giving me the
seconds I needed to escape," said the Ken Pilot tonelessly. He told it
matter of factly, as if he were describing how he got out of bed or
refiltered his clothes.
"Good work," said the War Admiral, and he stared into the Ken
Pilot's eyes, and something extra passed between them that Took didn't
fully catch. "You all did exceptional work. I confess that your chances
for survival on this mission were slim. But you have individually
destroyed more Insect ships than any officer or soldier in this fleet,
and I'm very, very proud of you." He cleared his throat. "You probably
want to go and get washed up now, before the awards ceremony and the
service for Captain Marsten and the others we lost during the battle".
Three other pilots and several crewmen had been lost in the battle with
the Insect diversionary force.
Hunter, Took, and the Ken Pilot started to file out, but the War
Admiral put a restraining hand on Took's arm. "Captain Took, would you
stay a moment please?"
Here it comes, Took thought.
"I've been giving some thought to how the Ken Pilot is to fit in
with our table of organization," said the War Admiral.
In an instant, like a thunderbolt, it was all clear. The Ken
Pilot would get his squadron, Wildcat "A", and he would be put in
charge of Wildcat "B", Marsten's squadron. A step down, but not quite
the demotion that he had expected.
"As you know Wildcat "B" is going to be in need of a squadron
leader," said the War Admiral, "and I was wondering how you would feel
about a transfer from Wildcat "A"-"
"All right Admiral!" Took blurted out. "You can demote me. It's
obvious he's a better pilot then I'll ever be."
War Admiral Norman North showed a quizzical look on his face.
"You think..." He took it in in an instance. "You think I was going to
transfer you to Wildcat "B"? No, Wildcat "A" is where you belong. I was
going to shift Kelly from Wildcat "A" to deputy squadron leader of
Wildcat "F" so Calate could take "F" and all the squadron leaders could
move up one letter. Hunter would move from C to B and so on down the
line," said the War Admiral. He gave Took a funny grin. "Did you really
think we were about to demote you?"
Took ignored the question/jab. "What about the Ken Pilot?"
"David-" The War Admiral was funny about the familiar use of the
first name "-is an excellent pilot. But he's not cut out to be a
squadron leader. He's too much of an individualist. I'm keeping him
active for special missions. In the meantime, with Kelly being taken
out of "A", I was thinking of giving David his berth, permanently. Do
you think you can handle him?"
Took was astounded at the turn of events. "Does he really want to
serve under me?"
"He spoke quite highly of you," said the War Admiral.
"He did?"
"Yes," said North. "He said you were, let me get the exact
phraseology he used, an "irritating but competent pilot." He stared
North straight in the eye. "That's high praise, coming from the Ken
Pilot."
"Which part is considered high praise, that I'm the irritating or
competent?" said Took.
The War Admiral escorted him to the door but gave no further
answer.
Chapter 4: Inspiration
From the Log of War Admiral Norman North, 6 months after Vitalics:
Things have been very quiet since our victory over the Insect fleet,
three months ago. I imagine the Insects would be too busy consolidating
their hold on our homeworlds to send more than a single fleet against
us. Additionally, by the time this fleet attacked us and the news of
their failure reached the Insect leadership, we would be months outside
of known space and many months away from their nearest fleet. And as we
continue to move away from our homeworlds, and away from the Insect
fleets, it would take them a long time to catch up with us.
Admittedly, we are not always moving at our top speed. We can't
go faster than our slowest merchant ship. We also periodically stop to
investigate planets and gather supplies, and the Insects may catch up
to us at some point. But it would take months, maybe even a year, just
to catch up to us at our current speed, if they even managed to find
us. So the military threat is on the back burner, for now.
On the front burner is our primary mission, to find artifacts of
the Monumental which will help us defeat the Insects. It is a long
shot--finding unplundered Monumental artifacts will be difficult
enough, but finding ones with direct military applications may be even
more unlikely. Even if we do find new technology there's no guarantee
that we'll be able to figure out how to harness it. After all the
Monumental were centuries, even millennia ahead of us technologically.
That's why we have Professor Stevenson and his staff aboard. They
have been studying the known Monumental monuments for decades and may
be able to point us in the right direction where to look. Right now I'm
told we should look for a binary system with four planets, one of them
with an oxygen atmosphere. Based on examination of ancient Monumental
maps, Stevenson believes they may have some sort of base on such a
planet. Of course, with the enormous passage of time, even if there
were such a base, it may be long gone now. And such a base could be
hidden, or boobytrapped, or worse.
We've checked out several binary systems in the area, but so far
found nothing.
"I'm telling you Obe, this is a complete waste of time," said
Took. He and Obe were on patrol ahead, heading towards a binary system
on the edge of sensors. "Third binary system this week. I'm all
binaried out."
"The War Admiral says we have to look for planets orbiting binary
stars, so that's what we do."
"No," said Took. "Professor Stevenson says that. The War Admiral
just repeats what he says."
"The difference being....?"
"We're not following one of the Admiral's hunches, we're
following the whimsies of a scholarly greybeard who thinks nothing
about spending 20 years studying an old piece of ceramic. We could be
at this for decades."
"Got anything better to do?"
"Well, I ah..." Took was speechless, for a moment. "I was
thinking of starting up a newsvid."
"A newsvid?"
"Sure! A fleetwide online newspaper."
"Iday, this isn't August."
"Ok, we're a fleet, but we're also a community, the last
community of humans," said Took. "I was thinking of it as a morale
thing, to keep our spirits up-"
"Hold it!" said Obe. "I'm getting something on sensors.
Planets.... two... three... four.... And one of them has an oxygen
atmosphere. Just like the Professor said he was looking for."
"Let's go into orbit for a close scan," said Took.
They moved closer and spent the next few minutes searching the
planet surface. "Plants... animals... but no civilization," said Obe.
"You spoke too soon, Obe! I'm picking up a power source on the
surface, contained in a metallic structure."
"A city?"
Took shook his head, checking the reading. "No, unless this city
is forty feet wide and twenty feet tall. Let's call a team in." He
raised his comm range. "Glory, this is Captain Took-"
A shuttle transported the research team to the surface, followed
closely by a transport with a platoon of Major Fortran's men. The War
Admiral himself had given the order, saying that the safety of the
research team was of the highest priority. Everyone else, the pilots
and the marines, were expendable.
They touched down on a grassy plain near the object.
The marines disembarked first, securing a perimeter. Finally
Major Fortran himself emerged, and gave the go-ahead for the shuttle
crew to undog the hatch. Professor Stevenson and his researchers
emerged, together with agricultural specialists who were seeing if
there was anything of value they could take from the planet.
The power source was a monument, a tall black gleaming monument,
of the type that Took had seen in museums back on August. Took's
presence wasn't strictly required, but he had invited himself and Obe
along, for "additional support."
The monument had symbols that were embedded on the sides of the
thing. They stuck out and could be felt by touch, much like braille.
Stevenson eagerly pointed one of the symbol chains to a colleague, and
they started muttering to themselves.
"Nice to get some fresh air," said Took, turning away and looking
at the grassy plain around them. This was the first time he, or anyone
else, had been in a breathable atmosphere outside the ship since that
little colony they stumbled on a few months ago, just after their
flight from Orotis.
"Looks kind of spooky, doesn't it?" said Took, looking at the
tall monument as it gleamed in the binary sunlight.
"Yeah, it does," said Obe. "To think that this was built by a
race millions of years older than us. What's it all about? What's it
for?"
"No one knows," said Took. "But I heard that some of those
monuments have strange powers, or are boobytrapped." He took a few
steps back. "We'd best keep our distance, pal."
But if the monument had any special powers, it didn't seem to
effect the research team.
They ended up staying at the location for two days; the
agricultural team determined that there were edible fruits and seeds
that could be gathered in sufficient quantities to make it worthwhile,
and Stevenson didn't mind the additional time studying the monument.
When they returned to the Glory, Stevenson made his report in private
to the War Admiral. Only his closest aides, Captain Dulin and Commander
Wren, were in attendance; the rest of the fleet wasn't as optimistic
about this "Chent hunt" as the War Admiral was.
"It's very similar to the monument we found on Whenfor," said
Stevenson excitedly. "Do you realize that this is the only the third
monument we've found that seems to use the exact same symbol language
as other monuments we've discovered. Why-"
"Professor," said the War Admiral. "That's all very interesting.
But what does it say?"
"Say? It's hundreds of symbols," said Stevenson. "We're not
really sure. But one section we've decoded makes a clear reference to a
planet just ten light years away in a neighboring system."
"What does it say about this planet?" the War Admiral asked.
"We're not sure," said Stevenson. "You have to understand, we've
only deciphered a small part of its language. We've never had a large
enough sample to-"
"And what about the power source you detected?"
"It's in the interior," said Stevenson. "We don't know what the
power is for or what it does, we can't scan through-"
"Could we cut through it?" Dulin asked.
Stevenson looked horrified. "Blast a monument? Your puny laser
guns wouldn't even scratch the alien metals. You'd have to use
shipboard batteries-"
"We have shipboard batteries," said the War Admiral.
"Destroy such a priceless artifact? Never!' said Stevenson.
"Let me be clear, Professor," said the War Admiral. "This is not
a dig, or an expedition to recover museum pieces. This is about getting
technology, and about survival. If blasting that thing open will get us
what we want, we'll blast it. Do you understand?"
Stevenson opened his mouth, then closed it, then nodded slowly.
"Good. For now, we'll try a moderate course," said North.
"Provide the location of this solar system to navigation. We'll start
once we've retrieved the last recovery teams."
After Stevenson left, Dulin looked at the War Admiral, who merely
shrugged.
"It probably wouldn't have worked, anyway" said North. "It would
be like trying to cut a diamond with a hydrogen bomb. If our ship's
turrets could blast into that thing, we'd probably destroy anything
useful inside."
"Then why did you...."
"To make a point to our good professor where our priorities lay.
Our people are getting restive, and it's only going to get worse over
time," said the War Admiral.
Took was on patrol again. This time his fleet was on temporary
deployment to the Blue Luna, the fleet's pocket battleship. The fleet's
engineers had tinkered with the engines to raise their capacity almost
to battlecruiser speeds. With equal firepower and more armor and
shields than any battlecruiser in the fleet, even the new Tiger class
ships, the Blue Luna made an ideal advance scout.
And besides, Took liked her Captain, the crusty Myster Harkness.
The only reason that Harkness, and his ship, was alive was that he was
one of those few captains who had refused to participate in the
Vitalics armistice, where most of the League fleet was slaughtered. He
had only been saved from a court-martial when North had agreed to have
his ship transferred to his fleet, which was stationed on Hunt's Moon.
The reason Took admired Harkness was because Harkness had been very
vocal about telling the admirals what he thought of the peace deal. He
was a straight-talking blast from the hip kind of guy--just like Took.
Took, Obe, and Ken Pilot were on point, ahead of the Blue Luna,
which itself was a day ahead of the rest of the fleet.
"...so the whole idea of scouting is that if there's anything
dangerous out there, we get clobbered, because we're expendable," said
Took.
"No, we're here to give the fleet advance warning," said Obe.
"If we manage to do so before we get clobbered. Face it, Obe,
we're expendable; even the Blue Luna is expendable. It's like sending a
pawn and a rook to check out what's on the other side of the board. The
Luna's the rook, and we're a couple of pawns; if we get knocked off,
the Queen will weep and then send one of her horses-"
"Do you ever stop talking?" said the Ken Pilot.
"Only when you start," said Took. "Is that what it takes to
provoke you into a conversation?"
"Alert," said the Ken Pilot. "I'm picking up something on long
range scanners, just on the edge."
They turned to their scanners. At the very extreme range they
could see first a few ships, and then many more--a mass of ships. Even
at this range, the identity was clear: Insects.
"Let's get out of here," said Took, turning his Wildcat 150-B
into a sharp bank. He kept his eyes peeled on the rear scanner during
the whole flight back. But if the Insects had spotted them, they
weren't sending interceptors to challenge them. By the time they
returned to the Luna they were once again out of sensor range of the
Insects.
On the bridge they reported directly to Harkness.
"A fleet, a big one."
"Size? Composition?"
"We didn't stop to take notes, sir," said Took. "We didn't want
to risk detection."
"Risk further detection, you mean," grunted Harkness. "All right,
let's set up a tightbeam to the Glory and see what command wants to
do."
"Another fleet," said the War Admiral, looking very surprised.
Dulin looked surprised at the Admiral's surprise. The other
officers in the war council looked similarity stunned.
"How can this be?" said the War Admiral. "There's no way another
fleet could have caught up to us this quickly. We're moving away from
occupied territory, so they would have to move much faster to catch
up."
"Furthermore, the enemy is ahead of us," said Commander Wren.
"They would have had to catch up to us without our noticing, and then
made a very large circle around us at tremendous speeds to avoid our
sensors."
"That's a possibility, but that doesn't seem very likely to me,"
said the War Admiral.
"What's the alternative?" asked one of the senior Captains.
"Perhaps the Insects have colonies out this far," said Captain
Bennett. "We've never been able to locate their homeworlds, after all."
"If they have colonies here, then why haven't they attacked the
Alliance from this part of space?" the War Admiral said. "If so, Orotis
would've been the first battlefield. But in all our years of fighting
them, they've never hit us from this region of space. We presumed that
it was mutually unexplored."
"What do we have on the composition of the enemy force?" Bennett
asked.
"Sketchy," said Dulin. "We've analyzed the sensor disks from
Took, Obe, and the Ken Pilot, and identified perhaps thirty capital
ships, but at the distance they were at we couldn't get more specific.
Nor is it clear if there are even more ships than that."
"I guess the logical thing to do would be to head into a
different direction," said Bennett. "We should start navigation working
on-"
"Just a minute," said the War Admiral. "We can't change
direction."
All eyes were on the War Admiral.
"The monument directed us to a system just two light years behind
their location. If there's something there, we have to find it," said
North.
Bennett cleared his throat diplomatically. "War Admiral, I
understand your goals, but surely our immediate survival takes
priority-"
"This search takes priority. We may be searching the rest of our
lives for clues about the Monumentals, Captain," said the War Admiral.
"How will you feel, ten years from now, when we're still searching,
knowing we passed up this obvious lead?"
Bennett didn't seem to know how to respond. He obviously didn't
have much faith in the War Admiral's obsession with the Monumentals,
but didn't want to directly challenge the War Admiral.
"Do you really want to spend the rest of our lives wandering from
system to system, without hope?" said North. "I admit what I propose is
difficult, and it isn't without risks. But it's the only chance we
have. We need something to hope for, however small the chances are." He
paused. "I propose a compromise. We have the Insect's projected course.
I say we plot a course around theirs, to circle around them and come at
the system from behind."
And with minimal discussion, North's plan was approved.
Now a journey that was supposed to take three more days was
taking seven. But by avoiding a direct confrontation with the Insects,
North hoped he could preserve his fighting force as long as possible.
Each battle which resulted in the deaths of one human and ten Insects
was a victory for the Insects. For the Insects could repopulate at
will, but the fleet was limited to the fighters and soldiers who had
escaped the disaster at Vitalics and the fall of the Alliance.
As luck would have it, the Insect fleet didn't stay in one,
compact group, but fanned out over several systems, to widen the scope
of their search.
And one of their scouting parties found the fleet.
When he discovered they were spotted, North ordered the fleet to
full attack, figuring that with the enemy fleet dispersed that he could
make short work of their individual elements, one by one.
But the Insect fleet wasn't that dispersed.
There were two main groups, a battlecruiser squadron escorted by
a cruiser group, and a second group led by a half dozen sleek
battleships. North's fleet was still working on the first group when
the second one showed up.
How North managed to extricate the fleet without taking even
heavier losses than it did was a mystery to most. But the results were
bad enough; one battlecruiser, two light cruisers, and three destroyers
were totally wiped out. One deep space cruiser was so badly gutted that
it had to be abandoned and scuttled; and a badly damaged destroyer was
barely kept operational. Total casualties: 800 dead, nearly 400 wounded
to various degrees.
North only managed to eke out something of a draw by attacking
what he thought was the Insects commander's ship, one of the late
arriving battleships. He ordered his forces to concentrate on that one
ship to the exclusion of all else; when it had been heavily damaged,
the enemy pulled back.
The War Admiral grimaced. But it could have been worse, much
worse. The Insects never got past their defense line of warships to
their merchant vessels, which were their prime supplier of food and
maintenance; and more ships could have been lost if the battle hadn't
turned his way.
The War Admiral had destroyed the bulk of the first part of their
fleet, but somewhere out there, not far away, was a still potent force
of battleships and a mix of support ships. He had cut them down to
size, but there were at least five battleships that were fully
operational, and they wouldn't give up so easily.
Services were held for the dead, and North looked straight ahead,
avoiding the gaze of his officers. Did they blame him? If the former
League officers didn't, the Directorate officers certainly did. If only
they had changed course entirely, and not attempted to flank the
Insects, this wouldn't have happened.
They held a staff meeting right after the services where they
discussed battle damage and repairs. A full third of the fleet had
suffered varying degrees of damage.
"We'll lay over here for repairs," said the War Admiral, pointing
to the neighboring solar system. No one needed to be told that this was
the system that they had been headed for in the first place.
"Is that wise, sir?" said Captain Bennett. "There's still an
enemy fleet out there, and if we stay in this area they'll be sure to
find us again."
"What do you suggest?" the War Admiral said.
"Let's put at least a few light years between us and this system
before we stop," said Bennett. "That way, it will at least take them
longer to find us."
The War Admiral reluctantly nodded. "Agreed." He created a flight
path on the holographic display, one that would take them through the
solar system he was interested in. "Any further comment?" There was
silence. "You're all dismissed."
The senior captains filed out of the war room, looking grim. When
they had filed out, leaving only Captain Dulin and Commander Wren, he
simply continued to sit there silently, staring at the holographic
display.
"They blame me, of course," said the War Admiral. "It's only
natural. If we had tried to avoid the Insect fleet entirely, this
wouldn't have happened."
"They're only thinking about their own short term survival," said
Commander Wren.
"Eight hundred sailors and officers didn't survive in the short
term," said the War Admiral.
"If we only looked out for our own survival, we would never have
a chance to liberate our homeworlds," said Dulin. "You're doing the
right thing, War Admiral."
The War Admiral didn't respond, not directly. He turned away from
them and said, "Please summon Captain Took and Professor Stevenson to
my quarters."
As the fleet moved through the system, sensors detected a
habitable planet in orbit. The Glory launched a shuttle with
starfighter escort to race ahead to the planet before the fleet got
there. The fleet wouldn't be stopping at the planet; so the expedition
would have to do its business and leave the planet before the fleet
went too far past the planet to catch up.
Orbital scans detected similar findings to their last outing; a
breathable atmosphere, some plants and vegetation, but no intelligent
life, nothing, that is, but a tell-tale monument on the northern
continent.
Because of their hurry, they hadn't scrambled a marine
detatchment to accompany them, so it was up to Took, Obe, and the Ken
Pilot to secure the area before the shuttle containing the research
scientists could be allowed to land.
"Aren't the marines supposed to be doing this?" Obe asked, from
the cockpit of his Wildcat.
"Don't be a weakling 239 chicken," said Took, referring to an
infamous kind of mutated chicken. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
"My sense of adventure went on permanent vacation after our homeworlds
were conquered and we were chased out," said Obe, angling his fighter
to follow Took, who was looking for a clear spot to land. The Ken
Pilot, silent as always, followed behind them.
"You're just depressed," said Took.
"We just lost eight hundred sailors and officers, we're fleeing
for our lives, and you accuse me of being depressed," said Obe. "If I
weren't depressed, I'd be delusional."
"Precisely my thought," said Took, meaning something different
entirely. "We need a morale boost."
"If this is about the newscast-"
"I spoke with Colonel Darley about the newscast-"
"-and he said no," said Took.
"Good."
"But it wasn't a considered no, just a brusque one; he didn't
even think about my proposal."
"Too bad," said Obe. "What about that open field, over there?"
Took eyed it. "Not enough space. Keep looking."
Took cleared his throat. "Where was I? Yes, the newscast. We need a
fleetwide broadcast. It will help raise morale-"
"But Darley said no."
"-so after Colonel Darley said no, I went to Captain Dulin."
"You went over Darley's head? Are you insane?"
"Well, I figured out it was wrong to ask Colonel Darley in the
first place. After all, he's the starfighter commander, but he doesn't
set fleetwide policy. Only the War Admiral does that."
"Iday, you didn't-"
"No, the War Admiral was unavailable when I went after him."
"So what did Dulin say?"
"He didn't say no," said Took. "There! That field, over there, we
can land there."
"Where?"
"50 degrees to my left, follow me in."
"So Dulin gave his approval for your newscast?"
"Not exactly," said Took.
"What did he say?"
"He just said that he didn't think it was such a good idea," said
Took. "But he didn't say no."
They put down their fighters in an open field, and emerged
cautiously from their 150-B's, their weapons drawn, slowly panning the
area around them. But the area looked remarkably peaceful, much like
the area of the first monument. They slowly started walking to the
monument, which they could see was close to the edge of a wooded area.
"Two times lucky, eh?" said Took as they walked towards it. It
was big and black much like the other monument, and when they got close
they could see writing on the sides of it. But this time something
different did happen when they approached; they heard a slight humming
noise, like the sound of a powerful machine, and suddenly, all around
them, they saw snowflakes--snowflakes of all different colors of the
rainbow--blue, pink, red, violet, bright green, dark green yellow,
orange, sparkly, and more. But the weather was much too warm for
traditional snow; and they didn't feel cold, or even a breeze.
"Wow!" said Took, staring at the flakes around him. This was the
most amazing thing he had seen in some time.
"Look at all those colors," said Obe. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"This is incredible!" said Took. The snow started to emit small
sounds, making noises like a gentle harp.
Deep inside the monument, an old man in robes lying on a bench
stirred. This was remarkable, because he hadn't stirred in a long time.
A VERY long time. He opened one eye.
"Isn't this beautiful?" Took said to the Ken Pilot, parroting
Obe.
"Look down," said the Ken Pilot.
They looked down. The "snow" was disappearing once it hit the
ground.
"Look around," said the Ken Pilot.
It only seemed to be snowing in a small area around the monument.
"It must be generated by the monument," said Took, looking at the
walls of it more closely. The monument, like the other, had smooth
walls that showed no revealing entrances. "But what's it for?"
"Iday, we should call down the professor's team before we touch
anything..."
But Took wasn't listening. He reached out to touch one of the
symbols; but before his hand made contact, a smooth opening revealed
itself on the side of the monument, showing a flight of stairs going
down.
All three of them immediately raised their weapons in a gesture
of alarm.
"What did I do? How did I open it?" Took asked excitedly.
"I don't know," said Obe, looking into the blackness of the
entrance. It wasn't reassuring.
Took took a tentative first step down
"Do you think we should call down for the research team?" said
Obe.
"We have to make sure it's safe," said Took, taking a second
step.
"What about calling for backup?" said Obe..
"We have K for that," said Took. "Don't we, K?" He paused for a
moment, but the Ken Pilot said nothing. Took spoke in an artificially
deep voice, like a robot. "Yes, I will protect you." Then, switching
back to his normal voice, he said, "Thanks, K."
The Ken Pilot, saying nothing, continued to be expressionless.
They started walking down, and dim light panels in the ceiling
came to life, showing a narrow, dark corridor ahead of them. Moving
cautiously, they went forward. If Took had been thinking clearly, he
would have called for backup; what if the entrance sealed behind them?
No one would ever know where they had gone or what had happened to
them.
But as they hit the bottom step and started down the corridor
they could still see sunlight streaming in from the entrance behind
them. If this was a trap, it wasn't being sprung yet.
They walked quietly down the corridor. Probably no one had walked
down here in centuries, if not millennia. They saw a well lit room
ahead. With their weapons out and ready, they entered and found the
room divided into two sections, each separated by what looked like a
glass door.
There was a bench in each section. One the second bench they all
saw an old man with a long beard wearing robes. On the first bench Took
saw all kinds of precious valuables--gold, rubies, gems, emeralds, and
piles and piles of credits. Obe saw something different--the first
bench seemed to contain all kinds of exotic electrical devices, perhaps
the very technology they had been seeking! The Ken Pilot didn't see
anything on the first bench.
But what they all saw together were two powerful lasers, one
above each bench. Even as they spoke, the lasers started glowing.
"What is this place? What's going on here?" Took asked.
Something seemed to tell them that the lasers were about to fire
on both benches, and they only had time to retrieve the items of one
bench. Thinking rationally about it later, of course, they realize they
could have split up, with two of them blasting open one of the glass
doors and removing the items of the first bench, and one of them
blasting the other glass door and helping the old man off the other
bench. But something innate gave them an overwhelming sense of urgency,
and the sense that they could only get to one of the benches in time.
"There's a lot of goodies on that first bench," said Took, eyeing
the piles of credits through the glass door.
"That technology might be just what we're looking for," said Obe.
"What technology? asked Took.
"What are both of you talking about?" said the Ken Pilot, seeing
them stare at the empty bench.
The lasers were getting very bright now and heating up.
"We don't have much time," said Took, feeling the sudden impulse
to act building up in him.
Suddenly both Took and Obe, on an unspoken agreement, fired their
blasters at the second door. It shattered, as if it were really glass,
and Took and Obe ran into the second chamber and started pulling the
old man off of the bench. He was heavier than he looked, and the laser
was getting very hot....
They had managed to pull him several feet off the bench when both
lasers came to life simultaneously, vaporizing both benches, including
the items that might, or might not, have been on the first bench.
Took and Obe were distracted for a moment by noise and the flash of the
lasers. When the lasers stopped firing and they turned around to look
at the old man, he was standing calmly behind them, with a very
thoughtful expression on his face.
"I've been waiting for something like this for a long time," said
the man.
Took tried to recover from the shock. But why was he so
surprised? It was just an old man. But this old man seemed to have a
power, an inner potency that inspired respect and awe.
Took finally found his voice. "Who... are you?"
The man continued to look thoughtful. "I don't think a name would
help you. A lot of it is based on your expectations. Who do you want me
to be?"
Took recovered some of his bravado. "Listen, pal, we're not here
to play twenty questions. We just saved you-"
"For which I'm very grateful," said the man, though the way he
said it, it didn't seem to any of them as if he had been concerned that
he had been in any danger. "Thankful not just for the rescue, but for
finding people like yourselves." His blue eyes looked at each of them,
one at a time, and for a moment each felt themselves at the center of
attention of a great power.
Took felt his pulse quicken. "People like ourselves?"
"I didn't think beings like yourself existed anymore," he sighed.
"I had gotten old, and jaded, you see, one disappointment after
another, and after a time, I simply gave up. But now you're here, and
you give me fresh energy."
"Uh, huh," said Took. "Are you a... Monumental?"
"Chent?" said the man, looking confused. "You mean, the beings
who built this place? No. They are far older than I."
"Then how did you get in here?"
"That's quite a story," said the man.
"We'd like to hear it," said Took. "As well as your name and who
you are."
"My name?" The man smiled. He seemed to find that amusing. "A
name. What good will a name do you, if you have never heard of me?"
"We, uh, have to have something to call you," said Took. "Why not
use your name?"
"Hm, good point," said the man, still looking amused. "You want
to know who I am?"
"Yes, " said Took. Why did they have to coax him so much just to
get his name? "Inspire us," he said, half sarcastically.
A wave of something struck Took. Suddenly, he felt taller, more
confident, stronger and more assured of himself than he had ever been.
Positive energy infused him. It was as if someone had flipped a switch
from night into day. Suddenly, he felt... inspired.
"You may call me Inspir."
"The shuttle and its escort are returning," said Captain Dulin.
"They found a monument, and the survey team make image recordings of
its markings."
"Good good," said the War Admiral, studying a file on his screen.
"One more thing," said Dulin. "They're bringing back a
passenger."
"A passenger?"
"They found someone on the planet," said Dulin. "An old man."
"On an empty planet?"
"Yes," said Dulin. "There's more. They found him inside the
monument."
"INSIDE the monument?" said the War Admiral. Dulin had his full
attention now. "How did they get inside?"
To save time, Dulin showed the War Admiral the preliminary report
that Took had filed from the surface, everything from the musical
snowflakes to their encounter with Inspir. The War Admiral noticed,
however, that something about Took's report seemed a bit... odd. It was
filled with a tone he couldn't quite identify, but one that he wasn't
expecting, not from Took.
Professor Stevenson had scanned Inspir on the surface and
reported that Inspir, if that was his real name, registered as a human,
but that meant nothing; if this was a Monumentals, he certainly would
be able to fool their scanners. A human certainly would not be found
sleeping inside a monument on an empty planet, far outside known space.
No, this Inspir was something else. But would he be friendly, or
hostile?
This was something that the War Admiral had not considered. He
had hoped to find ancient cities, or equally ancient ships of the
Monumentals, abandoned and empty, whose technology they could tap into.
But it never occurred to him that one of the Monumental would still be
alive. If this was a Monumentals, and it proved hostile, they could all
be in great danger. And this great danger was currently in a shuttle
docking in Bay 2. The War Admiral thought about it for a moment,
weighed the risks, then called Captain Dulin on the comm. Preparations
would have to be made....
Took escorted Inspir to the War Admiral's quarters. He was
talking a mile a minute, giving Inspir a rough outline of their
situation. "The Insects have been pursuing us for months, and their
fleets keep appearing from nowhere. We're fighting them, but-"
At that moment they came to the War Admiral's office. The door
opened and the War Admiral stood there, waiting for him.
"Come in," said the War Admiral. He looked at Took, who
automatically started to follow. "Alone," he frowned.
"Oh. Ok," said Took, crestfallen.
Inspir entered, the door closing behind him.
The feeling came at the same time the man entered the room. It
was as if the War Admiral felt a splash of warm water on his body. No,
that wasn't quite right; warm water would make him feel unexpectedly
wet, something that would cause him to recoil. The closest way to
describe it would be a feeling of something that energized the War
Admiral, that made him think more clearly than he had in days, and that
for the first time in some time filled him with real hope. And the
oddest thing about it, was that he had experienced these feelings
before...
And then there was the man himself, bearded, in robes, watching
North quietly as if assessing the affect on him. Could this Inspir be
unaware of the effect he had? Could it be unintentional? Almost
certainly not.
The room was silent for a moment as each stared at the other, as
if the first person who spoke would lose a certain tactical advantage;
or maybe, Inspir was just used to the effect he had on people, and was
expecting the War Admiral to be as talkative as Iday Took was.
But the War Admiral pursed his lips and said nothing.
Inspir finally broke the spell. He smiled slightly, as if
conceding the point to the War Admiral. "So you must be War Admiral
Norman North," he said.
"And you must be Inspir," said the War Admiral.
"That's what you can call me, now," said Inspir. "Though the name
doesn't really matter; a measure of a being is what he does, not what
he is."
"A being?" said the War Admiral, still not trusting the energized
feeling he was experiencing. "You appear human, like us."
"Things appear in many ways to many people," said Inspir, sitting
down in a chair in front of the War Admiral's desk. "Are you fleeing
from the Insects, or moving towards something? Two perceptions, from
the same action."
"We are in search of technology that will help us repel the
Insects," said the War Admiral.
"I understand," said Inspir. "I also cannot help you with that."
"Cannot?" said the War Admiral. "Or will not?"
"Look at me, War Admiral," said Inspir. "Do I come equipped with
machines that will help you defeat your enemies?" He gestured to his
robes. "By now your people have searched further into what you quaintly
call a monument. Have you found any technical equipment there?"
"No," said the War Admiral. "Aside from the room you were found
in, there appears to be nothing else." He let an obvious question
slide, and took another tact. "But if you could direct us to other
planets, where technology exists--"
"I'm afraid I can't help you with that, War Admiral," said
Inspir. "All my information is woefully out of date. And I'm not
familiar with this corner of this galaxy."
This galaxy? Not familiar? Then what was he doing here? And how
did he get here without knowing the area through which he traveled to
get here?
Inspir intruded into his thoughts by speaking again. "And in any
event, that's not what I do."
"What DO you do?" said the War Admiral, speaking with emphasis.
"I help people," said Inspir. "I can help you, War Admiral."
"With what?"
"With your guilt, for one thing."
The War Admiral showed no outward reaction.
"Guilt about what?" North asked.
"Let us not play games, War Admiral," said Inspir. North glanced,
ever so momentarily, at the blank comm screen on the far wall. Inspir
caught his glance and looked straight at the screen, and smiled for a
moment. Then he turned back to North.
"Not very trusting, are you?" said Inspir.
"You're a completely unknown entity. How trusting can I be?" said
North.
"True, the external monitoring is only prudent, though I would
like us to have a moment of privacy," said Inspir, raising an eyebrow
slightly.
In Captain Dulin's quarters, the visual feed to the War Admiral's
quarters suddenly went static. He tried to adjust the controls, but the
image wouldn't return.
Dulin looked at Commander Wren. "Perhaps we should wait....."
"We can't risk it," said Wren. "That's the War Admiral in there!
Order the marines in now!"
Dulin frowned. If Inspir took the War Admiral as a hostage, or
even moved to harm him... but at the same time, sending in the troops
could make matters even worse. Why had he ever agreed to let this alien
see the War Admiral alone?
Cursing, Dulin touched a link on his desk. "Major Fortran! Have
the security squad assemble outside the War Admiral's quarters on the
double!"
"I'm sorry I had to do that, but I think we need a minute of
privacy," said Inspir.
"Do what?" said the War Admiral, unaware of what had just
happened.
"Please, War Admiral. I know you had your associates monitoring
this conversation from a remote location. Very smart, actually, and a
reasonable precaution," said Inspir. "Assuming, that is, that I
couldn't get to them as well." He stood up, and took a step towards
North, and then another....
The security squad formed outside of North's quarters, followed
by a breathless Major Fortran.
"Do we go in, sir?" said Lieutenant Dolenk.
Fortran bit his lip, looking at the door. "Our orders are to wait
for the Captain."
The War Admiral felt that feeling wash over him again, the
feeling of... inspiration. Suddenly, he felt his creativity heightened,
his thinking abilities multiplied, and along with it, his sense of hope
strengthened. But he struggled to remain outwardly calm.
"That wasn't quite true, what you said before," said Inspir.
"About me being an unknown entity." He took another step, and then
another one, until he was face to face with the War Admiral. The War
Admiral didn't flinch.
"No?" said the War Admiral.
"No," said Inspir. "While it's true, you've never met me before,
I can see..."
"I've met someone else..." said the War Admiral.
"Someone similar, just like me," Inspir suggested.
"Yes," said the War Admiral. "I'm starting to remember now...."
Captain Dulin arrived breathless outside the War Admiral's
quarters, followed by Commander Wren. The tactical team was assembled
and ready.
"Captain?" said Major Fortran.
Dulin considered a split moment, then nodded.
"Stand aside, sir."
Fortran palmed the door. It didn't open. He nodded to Dulin, who
activated the override code. The door stayed close.
Now North saw this stranger, no longer a stranger, in an entirely
new light. "So what are you?" North asked.
"What am I?" The question seemed to puzzle Inspir for a moment.
"Didn't you figure it out when you met my previous number? Or are you
still testing me? Very well, I will answer it, for what I am is the
most intelligent question you have asked since I came in here. I'm an
admirer. And I'm a helper. I admire certain kinds of individuals, and
races, and I help them."
"Help them how?"
"You have already seen that. I help you help yourself; the best
kind of help there is. I've been doing it for a long time--though I
haven't done it for a long time. You're right to be wary; there are
many, many others out there besides myself who call it their mission to
help others, but who end up hurting much more than they help, just as
I'm almost equally sure, from what little I've learned, that there are
others helping those you call the Insects. But their help is different
from my help. I don't provide help in force of arms, or weapons, or
assist in subjugating another race. I help people tap into a greater
part of their potential, such as during-" and he purposely stopped
speaking.
North spoke up. "The arrival of the fleet at Yartagia."
"The arrival of the fleet at Yartagia," said Inspir, filling it
with significance as he said it. "I don't know precisely what happened
there, but I can see you have encountered one of my kind before. From
the state of your fleet, and your home worlds, I can see you need a lot
of help, even from the little I now know I can see the scales have been
tipped drastically against your favor by one of my opposite numbers. I
am going to fix that."
North raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask the obvious question.
"You will see," said Inspir. "I can only stay a short while, if
you will have me." Inspir looked towards the door. "They're getting
ready with cutting tools. We'd better emerge if we don't want them
damaging your door, shouldn't we?"
One of Fortran's men was aiming the laser torch at the door when
it unexpectedly opened. Everyone stood speechless as Inspir walked out,
looking unconcerned at the heavily armed squad that was assembled.
Dulin and Wren rushed in. "War Admiral, are you-"
North held up a restraining hand. "I'm all right. Everything's
fine. Our guest will be staying with us for a while."
Dulin and Wren exchanged glances. Had this mysterious Inspir
gotten to the War Admiral?
As a concession to Dulin, North agreed that Inspir should have an
escort. Dulin figured that if anyone would be immune to the effects of
Inspir, it would be the Ken Pilot. The Ken Pilot had been the least
effected on the planet surface, and it was he who was detailed to
accompany Inspir around the ship.
"I don't amaze you," said Inspir.
"No," said the Ken Pilot.
"I don't surprise you."
"No."
"Or even interest you."
"No."
"That interests me," said Inspir, looking closely at the Ken
Pilot. "It's as if part of your mind has been burned out, or shut
down."
"Correct."
"Well, then your Captain Dulin was right, you're a very suitable
escort," said Inspir.
Inspir's first stop was a thorough debriefing with Professor
Stevenson and his staff.. Inspir was friendly but not particularly
helpful. How did he get into the monument? The details were vague in
his mind. Where did he come from? That was a long time ago. How long
had he been asleep? He wasn't really sure.
He was obviously being evasive, but that didn't seem to irritate
the Professor or his colleagues; in fact, they beamed as Inspir talked,
and the conversation soon changed to other topics.
"Do you realize how important your work is here?" said Inspir.
"You are the most important people not just in this fleet, but in your
Alliance. Your War Admiral has put a lot of faith in you to locate new
technology that can help you fight your enemies."
"Yes, well, we're doing the best we can," said the Professor.
"You're worried," said Inspir. "Worried that you won't find what
you're looking for, worried that if you do find it, you won't be able
to decipher the workings of such radically different technology."
"Yes, that is a concern," said Stevenson, looking uncomfortable.
"But you are among the top scholars in your Alliance, are you
not?" Cautious nods. "No one can do more than you can. All you can do
is your best."
"But what if we fail?" came a timid voice in the crowd of
scholars.
"As long as you're all alive, you haven't failed," said Inspir.
"Each day that you survive is another victory over the Insects. Where
there is life, there is hope. Where there is another day, there is
hope."
A murmur seemed to travel over the crowd of scholars and
scientists. Inspir turned to the Ken Pilot, who looked bored. "We may
go now."
They wandered around the Glory, seemingly at random, visiting
different crew decks and duty stations. Sometimes Inspir would simply
walk by a room, or other times he would purposely stop and talk to
crewmembers; usually, before he entered a room He roamed one of the
hanger decks, with the Ken Pilot following silently in tow. The Ken
Pilot didn't seem to mind giving up his free time to follow him around.
The truth of the matter was that the Ken Pilot didn't seem to care much
either way.
Inspir walked among the long rows of Wildcats awaiting
maintenance and inspection. He cast a glance at members of the flight
crew, all of whom stopped what they were doing and looked up when
Inspir walked by. The sound of his footsteps wasn't what did it; it was
the sense and feeling of hope in the air, like a splash of warm water,
that attracted everyone's attention. Inspir gave a smile and a nod as
he walked by, or stopped to speak a word or two, but didn't stop for
long until he reached a Wildcat where the tech working on it didn't
look up as he approached.
Inspir stood still as the tech continued working for a few
seconds on the fighter's left wing. Then he stiffened, stopped what he
was doing, and turned around. It was Zetho Arkasian, the deputy chief
armaments officer in Bay One.
He looked at Inspir. Inspir looked back at him. The Ken Pilot, as
usual, didn't make introductions or say anything. After staring at
Inspir for a moment, Zetho growled, "I don't need an audience," and
started to turn back to his work.
"But you do need appreciation," said Inspir, speaking for the
first time.
"Eh?" said Zetho, turning around again.
"You've gotten so used to being unappreciated that you bottle up
the resentment within you," said Inspir.
"Huh?" grunted Zetho. "Yeah."
"When in reality, you have one of the most important jobs here,"
said Inspir. "Even I, a complete stranger, can see that."
"Yeah," said Zetho, considering.
"Without you, none of these ships could fly," said Inspir.
"Without you, fighters would be malfunctioning in combat, exposing
pilots to unnecessary risk. Without you, ordinance wouldn't detonate
properly. You are, I believe, the foremost ordinance expert on the
Glory."
"Yeah," said Zetho. Then, "Who are you?"
Inspir put an arm on Zetho's shoulder. "Just someone who cares,"
he said quietly. Zetho felt the warmth radiate within him. He felt a
new energy, as if he didn't have to force himself to do his job
anymore, as if he could prep a hundred ships with all the energy he now
had within him, because he knew he was doing it for a higher purpose.
He got to his feet, and, whistling for the first time in years, started
for one of the tool banks.
Inspir turned to the Ken Pilot, a broad smile on his wise face.
"Don't even think of touching me," said the Ken Pilot, speaking
for the first time.
Half Commander Stacy Wren looked around the bridge of the Glory.
Everyone was calmly manning their controls. The War Admiral was nowhere
in site. Probably in his office, getting ready for the staff meeting.
She quickly sat down in her chair next to Dulin, who was studying a
duty report.
"What are we going to do?" she hissed.
Dulin pretended to keep reading his report. "This is not the
place or the time."
"Make time," Wren hissed.
Dulin looked up from his report and raised his voice. "Commander,
would you accompany me to my office. I'd like to go over a few items in
this report."
They went to the Captain's office, just off the bridge. The
Glory, designed to have both a commanding Admiral and a Captain
onboard, had both an Admiral's and a Captain's office just off the main
bridge. Wren had an official office too, but that was several levels
belowdeck.
As soon as the doors had closed behind them Dulin turned to Wren.
"Now, Commander, what do you have to say?"
"The War Admiral has given that alien free run of the ship. He's
been going around manipulating the crew."
"Manipulating?"
"Feeding them a false euphoria," said Wren. "He's like a
narcotic."
"The War Admiral doesn't seem concerned."
"That's because he's been affected too," said Wren.
Dulin considered. "What would you have me do?"
"Put some constraints on this Inspir. Confine him, or better yet,
drop him off where he came from."
"And violate the War Admiral's orders?" Dulin said. "Or were you
also suggesting I relieve him of duty?"
Wren opened her mouth and then closed it. She hadn't thought that
far ahead. Suddenly, they heard Lieutenant Shishman's voice over the
comm. "Captain Dulin, Commander Wren, please report to the war room."
All the senior fleet officers were gathered there. "Now that
we're all assembled, we can begin," said the War Admiral, eyeing Dulin
and Wren coming in last. They took the only remaining seats, next to
the hologram of Captain Harkness of the Blue Luna. He always liked to
sit near the end of the table, by the door, even when he only appeared
in hologram form. Most of the fleet officers were present in hologram
form from their own ships; obviously, this was not considered to be one
of the more vital meetings.
They couldn't have been more wrong.
"Gentlemen," said the War Admiral. "The most vital repairs on our
ships are complete. We can now get under way." A three dimensional star
chart appeared on his screen. "The last known location of the Insect
fleet was here," he said, indicating a flashing sector.
"So we should probably head in the opposite direction," said
Captain Bennett of the Half Carrier Amory Til. His hologram flickered
slightly due to momentary interference with his signal.
"Not the direct opposite," said Captain Harkness. "That's the
first place they'll look."
"I propose we move here," said the War Admiral, pointing to the
flashing sector where they had last seen the Insects.
"You want to move to their last known location?" Bennett said.
"Why?"
"To attack," said the War Admiral.
"Seeing the losses they inflicted on us the last time, do you
think it's a good idea-"
"Yes," said the War Admiral. "I realize that our goal is
survival, not combat. Each time we engage in battle we sustain losses
that cannot be replenished. Nevertheless, I'm convinced it's best that
we seek them out, rather than wait for them to find us. If you'll
recall, the core of their fleet are a number of super battleships that
are capable of causing us a great damage if they get close. If they
find us and take us by surprise again, we'll sustain heavy casualties,
again."
The War Admiral turned to the map, and a number of fighter
symbols appeared on the screen. "But we also have a significant
advantage. We have fighters and they don't. My intention is to locate
them first, from a distance, and to send our fighters in to destroy
them, without risking any of our capital ships. That way we can destroy
them safely, from a distance, with a minimum of losses."
There was a murmuring around the room. They hadn't gone on the
offensive in some time. Their primary goal had been escape, not combat.
Their confidence, shattered by the loss of their home worlds, had
reduced them to flight. This was a new mentality, a new way of
thinking, and they had to adjust to that.
"What if in trying to locate them they locate us first?" one of
the captains asked.
"It's a risk, but seeing as we have fighters to engage in recon
and they don't, again we have the advantage," said North. "We'll send
out elements of two full squadrons in every direction to search, and
have the other squadrons ready to launch on a moment's notice."
The captains looked around and nodded. The War Admiral's plan was
risky, but it also made sense. North, seeing from their expressions
that he had formed a consensus, nodded. "Captain Dulin and Colonel
Darley will coordinate our efforts with the squadrons on the Amory Til
and on the other capital ships. Dismissed."
The holograms shimmered out of existence, leaving North in a nearly
empty room with Dulin, Wren, and Colonel Darley. Darley excused
himself, saying he had to prepare the mission schedules.
North nodded, and turned to look out the windows at the stars.
"Yes?" he said, to the two silent officers behind him.
"An attack is a very provocative gamble," said Wren.
"Yes, it is," said North.
"I have to wonder how much of it is your idea," said Wren.
"Commander!" said Dulin sharply.
"No," said North, raising a hand. "If I can't encourage my
closest officers to speak freely, then we're in worse trouble than I
thought." He turned away from the window and looked at Wren. "Continue,
Commander."
"What happened during the eighty eight seconds you were off-
surveillance with this Inspir?" Wren asked.
North raised an eyebrow.
"This Inspir has been roaming around the ship, raising morale and
giving everyone new-found confidence."
"And you object to this?" North asked.
"I think he did the same thing to you," said Wren. "I think he's
setting us up for a trap, making us overconfident enough to attack in a
set place and time of the Insects' choosing."
"Hm," said the War Admiral. "And why do you think this thought
didn't occur to me?"
Wren swallowed. "You're obviously being, well, influenced by
him." Her voice trailed off.
"Influenced, or controlled?" said the War Admiral. "Because if
you believe that he's working for the Insects, and he controls me,
you're being very, very foolish to confront me with your suspicions
directly. I could have you arrested and confined until the attack. No
one would question my orders." He glanced at Dulin, as if to assess
whether Dulin also shared her convictions.
Wren gulped. "We... I hope you're merely influenced, Admiral.
That's why I'm bringing my concerns to you directly."
"Influenced, then," said the War Admiral, looking more at ease.
"In that regard, then, you're correct. I have been influenced, just as
you are influenced whenever you listen to anyone else's opinion or line
of reasoning."
"Not in the same way," said Wren.
"No, not in the same way," said the War Admiral. "But I haven't
become a blind follower. My ability to reason is intact... and, just as
importantly, so is my memory. I take it that neither of you were in
service during our conflict at Yartagia?"
Dulin and Wren shook their heads.
"I was," said the War Admiral. "It was a tough time. Our fleet
was faced by superior numbers, and had just been defeated in battle. It
was a turning point in the war. If our fleet were wiped out, well, our
homeworlds would've been next."
"And then a mysterious man appeared, just like Inspir. He gave us
hope, and courage, and the will to fight back. And we did."
"And Yartagia went down as one of the greatest victories in
history," said Wren. "So this Inspir is that same man?"
"No," said the War Admiral. "This one is different. But he's from
the same group."
"Group? The Monumental?"
The War Admiral shook his head. "An old race, but not as old as
the Monumentals."
"How can you be sure that this Inspir is from that race?" Wren
asked.
"Because," said the War Admiral, "The feeling I get is familiar."
The fleet moved into position over the next two days. The Amory
Til launched two dozen fighters, a mixture of Wildcats and older
Lancers, in every spherical direction away from the fleet, in search of
the Insects. The effects of Inspir's visit seemed to be visible on the
crew. The fighter pilots grew more confident; the productivity of the
tech crews increased 20%; and even the morale of the non-combat support
staff improved. Inspir was even seen in other ships of the fleet, even
though he never left the Glory. Pilots on the Amory Til reported waking
up in the morning remembering strange, inspirational dreams, telling
them they were important defenders of the fleet and that they had the
ability to keep everyone safe; gun crews on the other warships reported
similar experiences. And Iday Took resolved to start his newscast.
"-but Captain Dulin said no," said Obe. They were sitting in
their crew quarters, arguing once again about this.
"For the last time, Obe, he didn't say no, he just said it wasn't
a good idea," said Took. "That's not a no."
"Then go and do it then," said Obe.
"I need a camera man," said Took.
"Oh no, you're not getting me mixed up in this one," said Obe.
"I'm not going to carry a heavy camera-"
"One ounce-"
"Around and get into trouble as well."
"It's your friend," said a familiar voice.
They both turned to see Inspir standing there, trailed by the Ken
Pilot. How long had they been standing there?
"Your friend needs your help," said Inspir.
Obe's opposition seemed to melt away at the sight of Inspir, but
a stubborn kernel of it remained. "Yeah, but the Captain said-"
"He's trying to do some good," said Inspir. "He's trying to raise
morale, to bring a sense of community to your fleet. You're all that's
left of free humanity; an unplanned community of several dozen ships,
splintered and shattered and disconnected. He's trying to build a
unifying force that can bring you all together."
"Uh...."
"He's your friend," Inspir repeated. "Will you help him?"
Obe blinked. "Ok, I, uh, guess I'll give it a try."
"Very good," said Inspir, putting a fatherly arm on Obe's
shoulder. He turned to Took. "You're doing good work. And I can see
it's only the beginning. Although you excel at it, your skills are
almost wasted as a fighter pilot."
"I am? They are?" said Took, a bit confused.
"Your skill is not unlike mine," said Inspir. "Improvement of the
spirit."
"Like you?" said Took.
"A bit less developed," said Inspir. "But you have that vital
spark within you. Never let it die."
And with that he turned away.
"See Obe," said Took, when Inspir had gone. He beamed. "I have a
vital spark."
"Just don't start a fire," Obe grumbled.
Wren pulled the closings on her uniform as she dashed on the
bridge. "Sorry I'm late," she told Dulin.
"Had trouble waking up?" Dulin inquired.
"You might say that," said Wren.
"Want to talk about it?" Dulin asked.
"No," said Wren, reddening. She changed the subject. "Has anyone
seen the War Admiral?"
The War Admiral sat behind a row of containers in one of the
Glory's vast cargo holds. It was a giant sized room, but filled to
capacity, making it seem very, very small. He came to places like this
to think, sometimes. Other times he wandered around empty corridors or
rooms, pacing back and forth, to think, to think.
"Perhaps I'm losing my touch," came a voice.
The War Admiral looked around. Inspir was standing there.
"I thought I ordered David Norman to accompany you wherever you
went," he said.
"He did," said Inspir.
"Well?" said the War Admiral.
"I'm with him now," said Inspir. "He's asleep, on his bed in the
crew quarters, and I'm lying in a cot right next to him."
"I see," said the War Admiral. "Am I asleep as well?"
"No," said Inspir, frowning as if this were an odd question. "No,
you are reliving your guilt while you are wide awake."
"My guilt?"
"It seeps out of you--your recent feelings of guilt because of
your crew losses. But that only touches on your deeper guilt."
"The ambush at Vitalics. The loss of our fleet. The loss of our
homeworlds," said North. "How did you know?"
"I didn't," said Inspir. Then he added, "You cannot consume
yourself with guilt."
"If I had acted, I might have been able to prevent it."
"Possibly," said Inspir. "What do you estimate your chances for
success would've been."
"Small," said North. "I would have had to effectively stage a
coup against the Alliance. But a small chance of success would have
been better than this," he said, indicating his surroundings.
"Really? If you had failed, would any portion of your fleet had
survived? Or would everyone around you be either dead, or enslaved?"
said Inspir. "You believe that you are your race's only chance to
regain their freedom. If that is true, your survival was essential, and
by not acting, you did the right thing."
"But what if-"
"What if, what if, what if," said Inspir. "Let yourself be
paralyzed by the past and there will be no future. Let us assume that
you were wrong and should have acted. Does that negate your obligations
in the future?"
North muttered something.
"You and I know that you are best able to lead this fleet. Do not
incapacitate yourself and allow yourself the luxury of guilt. Do what
you do best," said Inspir.
"Is that what you tell everyone?" said North, cracking a small
smile.
"Only those who do the right kind of things," said Inspir. "I am
needed elsewhere tonight. Think on what I have said."
The following morning a fateful report came in from one of the
scouts.
"Fighter 8 from the Til's Lancer D squadron reports a sighting,"
said Lieutenant Shishman, illuminating a section of the bridge's
floating holographic map.
The War Admiral swiveled his command chair to face Shishman.
"Specifics?" said the War Admiral sharply.
Shishman listened to the comm. "...five battleships... three
battlecruisers... five heavy cruisers... ten lesser ships...."
The War Admiral turned to Colonel Darley. "Launch all fighters.
Alert the fighters on the other ships."
As Took climbed into his 150-B cockpit he felt a surge of
elation. Finally, they were going to get to strike back. As he prepared
to close the cockpit Zetho poked his head in. "Hey, you know that
problem you were having with your tactical display?"
"Yeah." It had been flickering for several months at odd times.
Zetho never the time or the resources to find out what was wrong with
it.
"I figured it out, late last night; some of the circuitry from
adjoining systems wasn't properly insulated. It's fixed now."
"Great!" said Took.
"Good luck," said Zetho, banging on the hull of the 150-B with
his fist.
Took gave the thumbs up signal and launched.
Strictly speaking, only the Defenders and the four EC "Whales",
large fighter dreadnought ships, were designated as bombers. But seeing
that the Insect fleet had no fighter protection, the War Admiral had
ordered nearly all Wildcat and fighter ships to be equipped with bottom
mounted missile racks. These slowed the ships down and made them less
maneuverable in combat, but would enable them to strike heavy blows
against the Insect capital ships. Only a single squadron, Wildcat "A",
was designated strictly for fighter escort.
"Just my luck," grumbled Took. "Everyone but me gets to blow up
something."
Obe checked to make sure that he was on a private circuit with
Took. "It makes sense; the War Admiral wants his best fighters
available for escort."
"Escort? Escort against what?" Took said. "They don't have any
fighters."
"Check your scopes!" said Obe suddenly. "We're in range."
The outer edges of the Insect fleet was appearing on their
scopes. A wave of fighters was approaching them.
"Where are they from?" said Took. "One or two of those capital
ships must have had a squadron tucked into their landing bays."
Then he counted the number of fighters approaching and knew he
was wrong. A moment later, when a new ship showed up on extreme sensor
range, he knew where the truth lay. "Glory, this is Captain Took! They
have themselves a flat top!"
North took the news calmly on the bridge. One standard carrier.
They were called flat tops because of the absence of heavy guns on the
outer hull. Only a few carrier/battleship combinations like the Glory
had heavy guns on their exteriors.
"Shall we order one or two additional squadrons to jettison their
missile loads and revert to CAP?" Dulin asked.
North considered for a moment. The fewer the number of fighters
they had on the attack, the less of a chance they would have to
permanently destroy this pursuing fleet. North looked up. Inspir was on
the bridge. Inspir was looking purposefully away, and wouldn't meet his
eye.
"War Admiral?"
North looked back at Dulin. "No. Continue as planned."
"Well, that's just great," said Took. "Four of their squadrons
against one of ours." He checked the sensors. They were close; in
seconds they would be in battle.
"A minute ago you were complaining that you weren't going to see
any action at all," said Obe.
"It never drizzles but it always pours," said Took. "Let's go
get'm!"
Wildcat A engaged the lead fighters, two squadrons from the
Insect flat top. There weren't enough Wildcats on CAP to engage both
squadrons; so some of the Insects got through to the Defenders and the
converted Wildcats. But the Insect fighters couldn't get a clean shot
at any of the opposing ships; they were weaving and bobbing crazily,
despite their reduced maneuverability. Finally the Insects got a clean
shot off at one of the Defender's, shredding a heavily armored wing,
but by that time Wildcat A had finished clearing away the first
squadron--and in record time too.
Took found himself flying better than he ever had before. He
picked off one, two, three Insect ships in a row, in rapid succession
single-fire shots. And he wasn't the only one. It was as if the whole
squadron was flying with the proficiency of the Ken Pilot.
The third and fourth Insect squadrons closed, but not before the
Wildcats reached weapons range. On Colonel Darley's orders half of them
launched their missiles at extreme range, freeing them to take on the
additional squadrons.
It was a slaughter. Not a single fighter was lost in the ensuing
dogfight, and only two fighters were lost when they went in for close
attack. Once the Defenders and the rest of the Wildcats got close they
launched their missiles at the other capital ships, and then switched
to lasers.
Insect battleships burst in a wave of explosions. Even their
mightiest battleships were being blown to pieces. In moments, four of
the five battleships were crippled and the fifth were heavily damaged.
The fighters turned their attention to the supporting ships, who had
been targeted with fewer missile salvos.
Meanwhile the Whales, giant heavily armored multicrew fighters,
launched their first salvo at the middle of the Insect flat top. The
missiles burst at one point and their combined force split the giant
ship in two. The Whales next turned on the surviving battlecruisers and
heavy cruisers.
"...all capital ships destroyed or crippled... all enemy fighters
destroyed... only four fighters lost," said Lieutenant Shishman,
reading the action reports aloud.
There was a deafening cheer on the bridge. The crew actually
clapped as the War Admiral stood up from his chair. They all knew whose
idea this battle was.
"Thank you, thank you," said the War Admiral. He looked genuinely
pleased. "I appreciate it, thank you." He turned to Captain Dulin. "The
bridge is yours." The War Admiral retired to his office.
He wasn't surprised to find Inspir there, waiting for him.
"Just like before," said the War Admiral.
"Just like before," said Inspir. "And now I must leave."
"Just like before," the War Admiral repeated.
"Yes," said Inspir. "Your people must not come to rely on me,
like a crutch; my role is only to show them what they can do."
"Where will you go now?" North asked.
"I sense I am needed elsewhere," said Inspir. "I would like to
take one of your shuttles. Unfortunately, there will be no way for me
to return it."
North didn't ask where Inspir would go in a short-range shuttle.
But he nodded. "I'll have one prepped and readied for you."
"Before I go, I have a few things to tell you, about the current
path you are heading on." And then he said a few things that had little
significance to North at the time, but, as it turned out, would have
tremendous importance later. In particular, he warned the War Admiral
of other aliens he might encounter. "You may find others who want to
help you. But the kind of help they may offer may not permit you the
free choice of accepting or rejecting," said Inspir. "And the kind of
help they offer may be intended to help them more than you. Be wary of
them."
That sounded ominous "If they are as powerful as you, how can we
resist them?" North asked.
Inspir stared at North. "Look inside yourself. There you will
find all the strength you need."
The shuttle launched from the Glory's Bay 3 and headed away from
the fleet.
"Where can he go in such a short range ship, sir?" Dulin asked,
studying the tracking displays.
"The bridge is yours, Captain," said North, returning to his
office.
The shuttle left their sensor range shortly before it reached the
outskirts of the solar system where Took, Obe and the Ken Pilot had
found Inspir. The ship touched down on the same field on the same
planet where they had landed. Inspir made his way to the monument and,
with a gesture of his hand, opened a panel and entered inside of it.
He found himself in a very different room from the one that Took
and Obe had explored, one filled with a frame of some sort set against
a wall and some very sophisticated and alien looking controls. Inspir
made some adjustments to the controls and the frame lit up, showing a
different background against the far wall. Inspir calmly walked to the
frame and then through it. Behind him, the frame darkened, the wall
returned to normal, and the machinery went silent.
Chapter 5: A War Admiral And His Dog
"Two full fleets, destroyed!" Queen Zsst raged. "How can one
small human fleet without reinforcement cause so much damage?"
"War Admiral Norman North," said Admiral Stay. Stay was one of
her most brilliant admirals. She spoke simply and to the point.
Norman North. Queen Zsst knew the name well. She used her higher
brain functions to calm herself, and considered for a moment. North's
fleet was already well outside their space; further resources would be
a waste of effort. Time to cut the losses.
Another one of her aides, Admiral Zsss, suggested as much, "We
have wasted enough time and effort on this pitiful enemy," said Zsss.
"Let us turn to-"
"No," said a voice.
The hooded figure of Baracki entered the room. "You must continue
to pursue them."
"Why?" said Zsss. "They are far from our space now, and,
according to reports, heading even farther out. It would take them
months simply to return to regions under our control. We waste vital
resources sending fleets in piecemeal to attack us. If they ever
returned, we could concentrate all our forces for one mass attack. As
it stands now, however, we have to send our several smaller fleets to
track the humans. As they head farther and farther from us, they could
be anywhere in a larger and larger region of space and we have to send
more and more fleets after them. We currently have two fleets seeking
them out; we'd have to send another two to have any reasonable chance
of finding them within a year. And while our fleets represent only a
fraction of our strength, they only attack in full force."
"They must be destroyed," Baracki hissed.
"Why?" Zsss persisted. "They are no threat to us! You have helped
us, Baracki, and we are grateful for your help. But we have no further
need of it!"
Baracki looked at Zsss, and Zsss started to shake. Then there was
a cracking sound, and another, and another. One by one Zsss's bones
were being broken. Crack, crack, crack! Zsss's body mass started to
decrease as it fell into a heap onto the ground. Crack, crack, crack!
Zsst's aides were sickened as they watched but were powerless, or too
afraid, to interfere. Finally, when the body was no more than a bag of
mush on the ground, Baracki turned to the others.
"Is there anyone else who rejects my help?"
No one spoke.
"Good," said Baracki, flicking a pink tongue. He turned to Queen
Zsst. "The human fleet must be destroyed because they are a threat. Not
today, or tomorrow, or next week or next year, but someday they may
return and be a threat. Potential threats must be eliminated."
"We already have two fleets looking for them," said Queen Zsst.
"We have increased ship production to maximum, but do not yet have the
resources to send multiple large fleets while maintaining an adequate
force over our occupied zones and attending to the conquests we are
currently making."
"So you're saying that there's nothing more you can do now?" said
Baracki, giving Zsst a dangerous look.
"Wait!" said Admiral Stay, stepping forward. "While we build up
our fleet, there may be other options."
"Good," said Baracki. He turned to Stay, with a dangerous look in
his eyes. "Impress me with your creativity."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
From the log of War Admiral Norman North, 1 year after Vitalics:
Things have been very quiet. It's been six months since our encounter
with Inspir and the last of the Insect fleet. I am newly confident that
we are far enough away from their region of space to avoid further
attack. And yet there may be other hostile alien forces out there we'll
have to face, so we must stay in a constant state of battle readiness.
We're already running low on supplies. We're almost out of anti-aging
serum, though fortunately many of us had our boosters, which are good
for 20 or 30 years, relatively recently. After that, we'll slowly start
aging again. I've talked with the medical staff about synthesizing a
serum onboard, but we simply don't have the technical equipment or the
raw materials to do so.
More immediate is our need for fuel, food, and parts. We have
successfully converted over the ships to run on hydrogen, which we skim
from compatible stars and gas giants we come across. The fuel burns
more quickly, and causes more breakdowns in our engines, but at least
we are confident of having all the energy we need for the time being.
Food is a bigger problem. The ship farms are barely producing enough to
sustain our needs. I've authorized turning empty cargo sections of the
Glory into farms, using soil we scooped off of hospitable environments,
and we're growing more food, but we still face shortages.
We're worse off when it comes to spare parts. As parts wear out we find
that we have nothing to replace them with. Already several fighters
have been cannibalized to provide parts for others. Our least
replaceable parts are munitions--once we run out of missiles, there's
no way to manufacture more of those. Thank goodness we haven't had to
go into battle for several months.
And then there's morale. Morale sharply improved during Inspir's visit,
but has gradually waned since. I've tried to authorize limited shore
leave on every uninhabited world we've encountered, but that's only
been two in the space of six months. And the shore leave is on empty
worlds, offering little more than walks among vegetation.
Captain Took has taken it upon himself to improve morale by launching a
fleet-wide vid cast. Some of his exposes have been irreverent and
"borderline subversive", in the words of Captain Dulin, although I
secretly enjoyed a parody he did of Colonel Darley--Took got his
clipped manner of speaking just right. Captain Dulin has asked me for
permission to shut down Captain Took's broadcast on the grounds that
satire isn't "military", but, quite frankly, we need more efforts like
Took's, not less.
The only other news to report is that we're approaching a nebula.
Nebulas can contain anything, including a hidden attack force, so just
to be safe I've ordered the Blue Luna to go ahead and check it out
first, just to be safe.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
Once upon a time, the War Admiral had a dog. It was a small dog, a
mutant type 34 Pomeranian. This was centuries ago, during one of his
breaks in service. The War Admiral was very attached to his dog, and
kept a hologram of it at his desk. Whenever he was tense, or tired, he
would activate the hologram, and look at his cute little dog.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
"-I tell you, Obe, I'm convinced it's a conspiracy," said Took,
piloting his fighter.
"Uh huh," said Obe, flying a few lengths behind him. They were
entering the edge of the nebula, and the foggyness of it prevented them
from seeing more than a few feet around them.
"A conspiracy to kill me," said Took for emphasis.
"I mean, why else do they always send me out on these scouting
missions?" Took said. "They always send the Blue Luna out in front, and
always send me out in front of the Blue Luna."
"Don't forget me," said Obe. "And what about the Ken Pilot?" He
glanced behind him, making sure the Ken Pilot's ship was still there.
"No, you're incidental," said Took dismissively. "I'm convinced
they want to kill me."
"Who?"
"Captain Dulin. Commander Wren. Probably Colonel Darley too. He's
been after me ever since I broadcast that imitation I did of him."
"Who can blame him?"
"I'm the only free press in the fleet, and they want to silence
me," said Took.
"Have you ever thought there are ways of doing that short of
killing you?"
"Sure, but they don't want it to LOOK like they're silencing me,"
said Took. "If they shut me down, it looks bad for them. But if I die
in combat, or during a freak accident, it's not traceable to them...
get my meaning?"
"Sure do," said Obe. "Hey, are your instruments reading what I'm
reading?"
"Not very much," said Took. "My sensors can't penetrate very far
in-"
"No, I mean the chemical analysis."
Took looked at the chem analysis. "Oxygen. Nitrogen. Helium--this
stuff is
breathable. What are the odds of that?"
"I'm picking up gravity too. Almost one quarter standard G."
"Gravity? This far out?"
"Look!"
Suddenly, through the clouds, they spotted what looked like a
landmass. It looked almost like solidified clouds.
"You think we can breathe and walk on that thing?"
"In a nebula?"
"There's only one way to find out," said Took.
"Took, no, our instruments may be wrong!"
"I'll take a deep breath." Took glanced at the air pressure,
making sure it was roughly equivalent to the pressure inside his
cockpit. He decelerated to a slow speed. Then he took a deep breath,
and pressed the button to open his cockpit.
Exposing himself to outer space.
"Took! Took!"
Took let out a bit of his breath, and took a small breath.
"Took!"
Took took another small breath. It smelled a bit salty, like
fresh sea air. But it smelled fine.
"I'm still here," said Took.
"That was a crazy risk!"
"Not at all," said Took. "Now I can say I'm the first person to
breath in outer space without a suit. Why don't we go and check out
that landmass?"
"No," said Obe. "Enough with the wild risks. We don't even know
if that is a landmass. Let's get out of here and call a research team
to do it properly."
"Oh... all right," said Took. He angled his ship back in line
with Obe's and Ken Pilot's. "Ready."
"Took? Aren't you forgetting something?" Obe asked.
"Oh. Oh, right," said Took, closing his cockpit. "You know, it's
kind of nice flying with the wind on your face."
When they cleared the nebula they made their report to Captain
Harkness of the Blue Luna. When they suggested they send in a
scientific team he grunted. "Let's check with command."
Much to Took's disappointment, it turned out that they were
ordered to wait for the Glory and the rest of the fleet to catch up.
The War Admiral decided he wanted some of his best scientists on the
Glory to check it out, and so they would have to wait.
"I knew I should have landed there when I had the chance," said
Took. "Now I won't be able to get a scoop on this story!"
"Iday, I didn't bring the camera anyway," said Obe.
"Then it's your negligence," said Took. "You should always bring
it with you."
"In my cockpit?"
"A journalist must always be prepared," said Took.
The following day the Glory caught up with them. Captain Harkness
ordered additional patrols of the nebula, just to make sure there was
nothing in there waiting for them. The nebula was so large they could
only explore a small part of it; but they did discover several more of
what looked like land masses, and Took only narrowly avoided crashing
into one of them that was obscured by nebula fog.
When the technical team from the Glory arrived they found that
the land masses were solid enough for them to land on, and they landed
on one of them, accompanied by a squad of marines and Took and Obe.
The first thing that Took noticed was how crunchy the ground was,
the way their feet seemed to sink a few inches into the ground, like it
was snow. They were wearing protective suits, just to be on the safe
sides, but they soon opened up their faceplates.
It looked like an exotic winterland, with snow sculptures formed
in exotic shapes around them. But when Took tried to touch one of them,
his hand almost went through it. "Hey, what gives?"
One of the scientists checked his scanners. "The substances on
this planetoid exist in various mixtures of solid, gas, and liquid
form. We're just lucky we were able to land our ships on a part that
was more or less solid."
"Hm," said Took, picking up part of the "snow", or whatever it
was, bunching it into a ball, and throwing it at Obe. The ball
dissipated before it reached him, and Obe, looking in another
direction, didn't even notice he had been attacked.
"Well, that was no fun," Took grumbled.
The scientists seemed to be having more fun as they examined the
semi-gaseous material the small planetoid was constructed of.
"Great," said Took. "They're playing with the snow and we're
standing around doing nothing."
"You volunteered us for this duty, remember?" said Obe.
"Something about a photo essay?"
"You're right," said Took. "Even this hunk of snow qualifies as
news on a slow day. Got your camera, Obe?" Obe held up the camera.
"Good. Get a view of the ridge line and the sky behind me. Ready?
Let's roll."
Obe nodded, and Took immediately went into showman mode. "This is
Command Captain Iday Took on the front lines of exploration, here on
the snow planetoid."
A swirling mist seemed to gather in the distance behind Took. Obe
saw it through his lense. "Uh, Obe."
"Shh! We're taping this," said Took. Clearing his throat, he
continued, "Around me we have the wondrous semi-gaseous planetoid that
brave scouts from the Blue Luna, namely myself and Lieutenant Obe-" At
this point the swirling gas cloud came closer very quickly, as if it
were moving deliberately towards them.
"Took!"
"What?" said Took, dropping his persona. "You know if you keep
interrupting, you're the one who's going to have to edit out-"
"Behind you!" Obe pointed.
The swirling cloud was almost on the scientists, who suddenly
just noticed it themselves. The cloud moved quickly over several of the
scientists, and they started screaming.
Took and Obe drew their weapons and started towards the
scientists at a run. "Quick! Back to the ship!"
Some of the scientists started running for the transport, others
stopped to help their screaming companions, but they started screaming
too, clutching their own bodies, even through their protective suits.
The marine detail started firing into the cloud, but didn't seem to
have any noticeable effect--except that the cloud moved over to them,
leaving the scientists, for the moment.
"Quick!" said Took, dragging one of the injured scientists, as
Obe directed the other scientists to help the rest of the wounded back
to the transport. Took ignored the screams behind him as he pulled the
wounded scientist as rapidly as possible. They had just reached the
transport when the screams abruptly stopped. Still not looking back,
Took entered the transport, whose doors were already opened.
"Hurry, hurry!" said Took, waving the others in. The swirling
cloud had finished doing whatever it was doing, and was heading towards
them quickly.
"Hurry!" cried Took, watching the cloud close in on Obe, who was
half carrying the last straggler.
In retrospect, it was an interesting math problem. Can Obe,
moving at a fraction of the speed of a gas cloud, cover a fraction of
the distance to the transport before the much faster gas cloud, which
had a longer distance to go, could?
Some of the scientists were screaming for him to close the door,
close the door, and Took knew that if the gas cloud got in there that
they would all be dead. But he also knew that if he closed the door
before Obe got there that Obe would be dead.
Took waited until the last possible moment, and that's just when
Obe and his wounded companion staggered into the transport, with the
gas cloud almost at their backs. He slammed the door control shut, and
the outer airlock door quickly slid close almost in the face of the gas
cloud.
They heard a thump from the other side of the door, and then
there was silence. Took eyed the door cautiously. If that thing got
inside....
Took went forward and assessed the wounded. Many of the
scientists had burn marks over parts of their bodies, even parts that
were protected by the suits. Took soon found out why, when he saw the
corroded parts of their suits. The gas had literally cut through their
suits to strike at them. If that could cut through the hull....
"We've got to get out of here," said one of the scientists,
realizing the danger.
"What about the marines?" Obe said.
Took checked the external scanners. "It looks like they didn't
make it," he said, noticing their bodies, as well as one of the
scientists.
"Lifesigns?" said Obe.
Took frowned. "I can't tell, even at this distance.
Interference."
"Do you think any of them could still be alive?" Obe asked.
"No way to be sure," said Took. "Unless we go out and look."
"No!" said the scientist who had spoken before.
"We can't leave without checking," said Took. "Besides, what
about our fighters?"
"What about them?" said the scientist.
"There are two perfectly good fighters out there."
"Leave them!"
"Wildcat 150-B's don't grow on trees," said Took patiently. "And
we're a bit far from our resupply depot. Obe, where is this cloud now?"
"Don't see it on any of the visual scanners," said Obe.
"Anywhere?" said Took anxiously, checking the scanners himself.
Nothing. It was either in hiding, or gone.
"We should contact the fleet and get further instructions," said
Obe.
"A swell idea, but we'd have to take off out of the nebula to
reach them," said Took. "And we might not even find this particular
planetoid again. No, the senior officer has to make a decision."
"And that would be...." Even now, Obe hadn't entirely lost his
sense of humor.
"We have to consider what this thing is. If the gas cloud is an
intelligent form of life, it may be waiting for us in ambush," said
Took.
"A gas cloud is a form of life?"
"If, on the other hand, it is alive and acts instinctively, it
may have simply wandered off," said Took. "And if it's a natural
phenomena, there's no reason to think it's hanging around."
"Cut the analysis. I say one of us goes out there and sees if any
of the marines are still alive," said Obe.
"I always love the scientific method," sighed Took. "All right, I
agree. You stay here."
"Hey? What? Why me?"
"Well, they're going to need someone to pilot this thing if I
don't return," said Took. "Under no circumstances are you to open the
airlock doors if something appears."
"Took... that's so... brave."
"Yeah," said Took, cocking his head. "I guess it is."
Took cautiously peered out the airlock door as it cycled open.
His blaster would be useless; his only weapon was speed. He tried to
tell himself that they had been on the planetoid over an hour before
the gas cloud had attacked them; maybe it was long gone by now.
He walked cautiously towards the bodies of the marines,
constantly looking around him, ready to run at the first sign of
trouble. Every snow drift looked suspicious, a possible hiding place
for the deadly gas cloud....
Took moved closer to the marines. None of them were moving. They
all looked very dead. Was he risking his life for nothing?
And then one of them moaned, and moved slightly, and Took forgot
about everything and rushed over to the body. One of them, at least,
was alive.
"Got one, alive," said Took. "Anything on the horizon?"
"Nothing I can see," said Obe. "But hurry, that thing can move
quickly.
Took looked over the bodies quickly, constantly looking over his
shoulder. It turned out that four of the marines were still alive.
"Four!" he yelled. "I'm going to need some help here."
To their credit, three scientists rushed out of the ship to his
location. They each quickly grabbed a body and slowly pulled them
towards the ship. "We could do this a lot quicker if we had more help,"
said Took.
Four more scientists came out, looking very fearful, and helped
carry the bodies quickly to the ship. Took didn't push their luck by
insisting that they go back for the deceased. When they got back to the
transport, Took said, "Careful! They're badly burned. Ready to make a
dash for our ships, buddy?"
Obe opened his mouth, then closed it, then nodded.
They made a mad scramble for their ships. The yards separating
them from the transport seemed like miles, even though their ships were
closer to the transport than the spot where the marines had fallen. But
both knew that this would be the last opportunity the gas cloud would
have to strike at them. Took scrambled to his ship, climbing up in one
fluid motion, slid into the cockpit, and slammed the closure button.
Nothing seem to happen for an eternity. Then, the cockpit slid
closed. A few seconds later, so did Obe's.
Whether the cloud had been intelligent or a freak of nature, it
didn't strike, and Took gave a sigh of relief as his did his preflight.
One of the scientists fired up the engines on the transport and
they headed off.
"We have emergency wounded coming back on the transport," said
Lieutenant Shishman.
"Wounded? How?" said the War Admiral.
"Seven dead, four badly wounded," said Shishman, listening to the
comm report.
"Seven Dead! What? Who are you communicating with, is that Took?
Put me through to him directly," said the War Admiral. For a moment
Shishman paused, and the War Admiral realized he hadn't stopped to ask
whether Took was one of the dead or wounded. But in seconds Took's
voice came over the comm system.
"-attacked by some kind of gas cloud. It came up all of a sudden-
"
"Weren't you wearing your protective suits?" the War Admiral
asked.
"Yeah, though our faceplates were open," said Took. "But it cut
right through the suits. We made it back to the transport, and it
either couldn't enter there, or didn't try."
"The transport," said the War Admiral, studying the sensor blips.
"But you're reporting from your Wildcat."
"Yeah, I went out to get it when I checked for the wounded," said
Took.
"You went out there, totally defenseless?" said the War Admiral,
looking surprised. "Foolish, but commendable."
"Yeah, I'm usually an odd mixture of both," said Took. "We
managed to save four marines, but I'm not sure if they'll all make it.
Have medical standing by, bay two."
North nodded to Shishman to make it so. "I'll want a full report
when you return."
Major Fortran requested permission to leave his post and report
to the landing bay. The War Admiral nodded.
The most seriously wounded were the first off the transport,
followed by the mixture of moderately and unwounded scientists, and
finally Took and Obe, who arrived from their recently landed 150-B's.
"What happened?" said Major Fortran, watching his men being
carried off.
"A killer gas cloud. We couldn't stop it; blasters didn't even
phase it," said Took. "But they distracted the cloud long enough for
the others to get away. They gave their lives to save ours."
Fortran nodded, and followed his men down to the medical bay.
"You're a hero too, Iday," said Obe, putting an arm around him.
"Don't remind me," said Took, slowly walking away from the
landing bay.
It was only much later that the final occupants of the transport
disembarked; two small swirling gas clouds, first one, then another.
They seemed to be chasing each other, or zigging back and forth
aggressively against each other; but when they emerged, each quickly
went in separate directions, one into the ventilation system on the
port side of the bay, the other into the starboard one.
A gas cloud flittered through the ventilation system, moving this
way and that, seemingly at random. In times of battle the ventilation
system would be sealed off, to limit the damaged cause by hull
breaches; but right now the ship was on normal duty status, and the
vents were open. The gas cloud, after a number of fits and starts,
finally arrived in the quarters of a high ranking officer. The quarters
were empty, but contained a desk, a bed, several chairs, and a small
table. The gas cloud flittered around, first at the bed, then at the
table, causing a small electronic pad to swish to the ground; and then
the cloud moved to the desk, and then solidified enough to press
different parts of the desk. Purely by accident, the cloud pressed a
button from the holocontrols, and suddenly, a holoimage of a small
mutant Pomeranian sprang to life.
The gas cloud sprung back, as if sensing that someone else had
suddenly appeared in the room. But all the mutant Pom did was stick out
its tongue, and give the dog equivalent of a smile. The gas cloud
observed this for a while, and then started to change shape; and before
long it started to solidify, with something like fluffy fur forming
around the edges.
The gas cloud noticed the Pom's sharp ears, and then something
resembling ears appeared in the front of the gas cloud, which was more
and more resembling a floating version of a mutant Pom every minute.
And then the image of the War Admiral entered the range of the
holorecorder, reaching down to pet the Pom, muttering, "Good doggie,
good doggie," over and over. The Pom made a small crying sound.
After a moment, the gas cloud did too.
"-a senseless loss of life," said the War Admiral, speaking into
his personal log in his office. "Two of the wounded marines died
shortly thereafter in sickbay, but Doctor Farb informs me the rest
should survive. The burns were caused by cells being exploded within
the body. It's still not clear if the attack was made by an intelligent
lifeform, or if it was simply the nebula's equivalent of a storm. But
the way the gas cloud focused on the marines after they fired their
blasters convinces me that they were an intelligent form of life, and I
have decided to change course to avoid the nebula. What a senseless
loss of life! And yet not senseless, for we need the courage to
continue to investigate to find the location of the Monumentals. These
marines gave their lives today for this cause as surely as any other
member of the crew did in our battles against the Insects."
There was a buzz on his comm, and the War Admiral stopped
speaking. "Come."
Commander Wren entered his quarters. "War Admiral, shouldn't you
be off duty by now?"
"I'm just clearing up a few things," said the War Admiral.
"You've been up 18 hours; you should get some sleep, sir," she
said.
North looked amused. "Is that an order, Half Commander?"
"A suggestion, sir," said Wren. She paused, looking down at the
deck for a moment, then back at him. "Don't tear yourself up about this
sir. This is the price of exploring the unknown."
"I'm used to paying this kind of price," said North bluntly,
thinking it a bit ironic that her words had echoed what he had just
written into his log. "But it just seemed so... senseless. Why did the
cloud attack? What did they want? We don't even know the answers."
Wren nodded, but said nothing.
"Oh very well, Commander," said North. "I'll be in my quarters if
I'm needed."
North yawned as he entered the code to open the door to his
quarters. The marine on guard nodded as he approached. This had also
been Wren's idea, ever since their encounter with Inspir. But Inspir
was gone now and who was going to infiltrate the Glory without being
detected and attack him in his own quarters?
The War Admiral didn't spend much time pondering this as he
entered his quarters. He sniffed the air. It smelled kind of salty,
like sea air. How could that be? Must be something from the air that
circulated from one of the other quarters. Or could it be a symptom of
a bigger problem? Probably nothing, but better to check it out. He
pressed a button.
"Bridge, this is North," said the War Admiral.
"Yes War Admiral," came Wren's voice. "What can we do for you?"
"Probably nothing," said the War Admiral. "I'd just like you to
run a routine atmospheric and life support check."
"Certainly. Any reason?"
"I'm smelling an odd sort of salty smell in my quarters," said
the War Admiral. Behind him, a gas cloud started swirling.
"A salty smell?"
"It's probably nothing," said the War Admiral. "But just check
the internal atmospheric sensors and let me know what you find. I'll be
in my quarters."
Behind him, the shape was taking form...
"Of course, sir," said Wren. "I'll have a report for you in a few
minutes."
"North out," said North, flicking the switch and swiveling
slightly in his chair.
The cloud behind him gasified and dispersed into the vent,
loitering just inside the intake.
The War Admiral turned around to go to bed. The smell was
stronger now. Just where was it coming from? Realizing for now that
he'd have to leave this minor mystery unsolved, he changed into his
sleeping wardrobe and went to bed.
Wren had Lieutenant Kao run the atmospheric check while she sat
in the center chair. Her shift and Dulin's didn't overlap for a few
hours yet, she was technically in command. What kind of sweet smell
could the War Admiral be smelling? She pulled up a schematic on her
screen to locate all the rooms surrounding the War Admiral's quarters.
That entire section was residential. Could someone be burning a candle,
or eating something-
"Alert, alert!" came a voice. Wren immediately looked up.
"Report," she said.
"Security, deck 22. We found a tech badly burned down here."
"Burned?" said Wren. Deck 22 wasn't too far from engineering. "By
what? A console exploding?"
"No, we found him in a corridor," said the voice of the sentinel.
"Burns over his hands, face, neck. He's unconscious, taking him to
sickbay."
Burns? The mission team experienced burns. "I'll meet you in
sickbay," said Wren. She pointed at Shishman. "Have Captain Took meet
me there."
"He's got some serious burns, but he'll make it," said Doctor
Farb, working rapidly.
Wren looked at the burns with distaste. What had caused them? At
that moment Took entered the sickbay.
"Whoa," said Took.
"Are those the same kind of burns that your team suffered?" Wren
asked.
Took took a look, and grimaced. "Yep. But this guy wasn't on our
team. Where-"
"Deck 22," said Wren.
"Deck 22?" said Took, looking very alarmed.
"You brought this thing back with you," said Wren.
"No," said Took. "We closed the hatch before it got to the
transport. I'm sure of it."
"Then maybe it could get through the hatch," said Wren. "Or..."
She thought a moment. "Think back, before the attack. Were the doors of
the transport open, or closed?"
Took considered. "I'm.... I'm not sure."
"Think!"
Took did think, and then he remembered. "I remember when we ran
for the transport, the doors were open. One of the scientists must have
left it open to let the salty air in-"
"What did you say?" Suddenly, her conversation with the War
Admiral returned to her.
"The salty air," said Took. "The air had this weird kind of
saltiness to it. You know, like sea air-"
"Oh no," said Wren. She punched her wrist com. "War Admiral! War
Admiral!"
She waited a moment. There was no response. She switched
frequencies.
"Security," came Major Fortran's voice.
"Intruder alert! Activate a full shipwide security alert! Get a
security squad to the War Admiral's quarters, on the double! He's in
grave danger!"
Why didn't he answer? Only one possibility came to Wren's mind,
and she started trembling as she ran down the halls, with Took in hot
pursuit.
The War Admiral put out the light and went to bed. He lay on his
back in the dark for a few minutes before he turned on his side and
went to sleep, as was his custom. By now he was used to the salty smell
and didn't really notice it.
But then something happened that he did notice. He felt an air
current brush his face, and then he heard a faint whine, as if from an
animal.
The War Admiral lay perfectly still. He must have be imagining
things. There was no way that there was an animal in the room with him.
The whine, if he had really heard a whine, was the distorted, distant
sound of something electrical, or mechanical.
And then he heard a puffing sound, like a small dog used to make-
-like HIS small dog, Puffy, used to make. But Puffy was long since
gone. Could the holorecording on his desk have somehow become
activated? The War Admiral looked in the dark at his desk, but couldn't
see anything. The only light in the room was from the very dim
emergency lighting in the floor, and while he could see the clear
outlines of his desk, it was obvious that nothing was activated there.
And then the War Admiral felt something... almost furry, but not
quite, brush his hand, and he knew he wasn't alone. The War Admiral
swiftly sat up and pressed the light controls by his bed.
And found himself facing a swirling gas cloud.
"War Admiral! War Admiral!" he heard from the comm at his desk.
His own wrist comm was also on the desk, but unfortunately the gas
cloud was between him and his desk. And the exit.
The War Admiral took in the situation immediately. A piece of the
gas cloud that had attacked the mission team had gotten aboard the
Glory and was here, with him, in his quarters.
It hovered before him, spinning and swirling. North knew it could
burn him before he reached the door. Maybe if he stood perfectly still
it wouldn't attack. Maybe he could buy time until Wren got there with a
security detachment. If only there were some way to signal the guard
outside his door!
The gas cloud moved closer to him, and then higher, right up to
his face. What if it burned his eyes? North found himself gulping, but
willed himself not to move. The cloud was now mere inches from his
face.
Then, suddenly, it started to change. The outer edges of the gas
cloud started to thicken, to solidify, almost. It formed a soft, puffy
looking material and the entire cloud changed into an almost
cylindrical shape. The end started to form sharp points that became
fox-like ears. And then, to North's surprise, a black eyes, nose, and
mouth formed.
The gas cloud thing opened its mouth and a vaguely pink tongue
came out. The thing started to appear to breathe heavily and puff, like
a real dog.
What was going on here? Not only did it look like a dog, but not
just any dog--it looked like Puffy!
The gas cloud thing watched him for a moment and whined slightly,
as if puzzled by the lack of response. Then it backed off, retreating
to North's desk. North still didn't move.
The gas cloud thing hovered over his desk, and then a fake paw
reached out and flicked a button.
The holographic image of Puffy appeared on the screen.
"Ruff! Ruff!" said Puffy.
"Ruff! Ruff!" said the gas cloud thing.
North slowly got out of bed and, step by step, moved slowly to
the gas cloud thing that now looked like a dog. It was hovering in mid
air, watching him.
Wren arrived at the same time as Major Fortran's squad. The guard
outside looked bewildered. "What's wrong?"
"The War Admiral is in danger," said Wren, gasping for breath.
"Open the door!"
"Good doggie," said the holoimage of North, petting the holoimage
of the dog on the head.
North looked at the gas cloud thing, which was imitating the same
extended tongue as the holoimage of Puffy.
"Good doggie," said North, reaching out as if to touch the gas
cloud. His hand hesitated before he touched the edge of it; after all,
all the reports indicated that it burned flesh on contact. But what if
contact alone wasn't enough to burn? What if the creature could control
its effect. Tentatively, North reached out and touched the very
outermost edges of the thing.
It felt real, almost like fur, except, with a little resistance,
his hand could pass through it. But North felt not the slightest pain
or discomfort.
The thing continued to smile as North gently pet it, stroking
it's "fur". "Good doggie," North continued.
Suddenly, the door slid open and marines rushed in.
The thing reared, growled, bearing teeth North hadn't seen
before, and slid into the vent and was gone.
"War Admiral, you're-" Wren blinked. "Did I see what I just
thought I saw?"
"I'm not sure what I saw, so I can't confirm it, Commander," said
North.
"As you probably know by now, that gas cloud snuck aboard the
transport and is on the ship," said Wren. "It wounded a crewman on Deck
22. This creature seems to give off a salty smell. When you told me
about what you smelled, I rushed over." She paused. "But it didn't look
like it was going to attack you. In fact," she said, looking at the War
admiral oddly, "it looked very much like a dog." Wren turned to Took.
"No, we weren't attacked by dog shapes, just gas clouds," said
Took. He added, "If we had been attacked by dogs, I would've remembered
it."
"Why didn't it attack the War Admiral?" Wren asked. "So far, it's
been uniformly hostile."
"I don't know," said North. "But if it wanted me to be dead, I'd
be dead."
"Regardless, we can't take any other chances," said Wren. "I'm
sealing off the ventilation system while we hunt."
"How long can we do that for across the entire ship without
suffocating?"
"Three hours," said Wren.
"And what do we do once we find it?" said Took. "It barely even
notices blasters."
"A good point," said the War Admiral. "When you find it, call
me."
"Oh no," said Wren.
"For whatever reason, it doesn't seem to want to attack me," said
the War Admiral. "We should find out why. Maybe it's trying to
communicate."
"Like the way it was trying to communicate with the men it
killed?" said Wren skeptically.
"I have an idea," said Took suddenly. "The particle intake units
our hazardous environmental units use. We could use those as a vacuum
to suck that thing up."
"Good idea," said Wren. She turned to Fortran. "Find out how many
we have and issue them to search teams."
"Fine," said the War Admiral. "But I'm joining the search too."
It turned out there were only four particle intake units on the
ship, and they were each issued to a search party. But on a ship the
size of the Glory four search teams could search for days without
finding anything.
This the War Admiral was very much aware of. After two and a half
hours he ordered the ventilation units turned back on, over Wren's
protests. But, curiously, once he ordered the vents reopened, he
stopped searching himself, and just returned to his quarters.
Twenty minutes later, he had another unauthorized visitor.
Wren monitored the pace of the search. So far, nothing. But the
gas cloud could travel at great speeds, and could be very difficult to
detect. She sat on the bridge with Dulin, monitoring the pace of the
search. How would they ever find this thing before it struck again?
Suddenly, they heard the War Admiral's voice over the comm.
"Captain, Commander, please join me in my quarters."
Why did the War Admiral want to talk with them in his quarters?
Almost without exception he summoned them to his office, on the bridge.
They found out when they entered his quarters.
"Come in slowly," said the War Admiral, his back turned to them.
When he moved away, what they saw made them gasp.
A gas cloud, in the shape of a small dog. And the Admiral was
petting it vigorously, without being harmed!
"Good dog, good dog," said the War Admiral soothingly.
"Admiral, that thing's a killer," said Dulin.
"Perhaps," said the War Admiral. "But it's not killing now, is
it?"
"It's unpredictable at best," said Wren, staring at it in horror.
"It could attack at any time."
"Admiral, that's not just any dog, is it?" said Dulin,
remembering something the Admiral had once shown him.
"It's taken the shape of your old dog," said Wren. "War Admiral,
that's NOT your dog!"
"I know," said the War Admiral, calmly petting it. "But I don't
believe it has hostile intent."
"Then why did it kill our men on the planetoid? And attack the
engineer on deck 22?"
"I don't know," said the War Admiral. "But I think it would be
safest, for now, if it stayed with me."
Wren was about to open her mouth to object when her comm chimed.
"Alert!"
It was Major Fortran. "Another crewman was just attacked on Deck
21. Badly burned."
"When?" said Captain Dulin.
"Sometime in the past hour," said Fortran.
"Get a particle intake unit to the War Admiral's office
immediately," said Wren.
"No, Commander!" said the War Admiral.
"Don't you see, it's manipulating you, Admiral," said Wren. "It's
appearing as something pleasing and reassuring to you while hunting the
rest of us."
"No," said the War Admiral. "I don't think so. That's the action
of a very highly intelligent being. I think this life form acts on
instinct."
"It looks like a dog, War Admiral; that doesn't mean it has the
mind of one," said Dulin. "I agree with the Commander on this one."
The War Admiral looked conflicted. The thing, sensing a change in
mood, started to give a low warning growl. Wren and Dulin took a step
back. At that moment a suited environmental officer appeared at the
doorway with a large sucking device in his hands.
"No!" said the War Admiral.
The thing assumed gaseous form and flew into the vent.
"Back to square one," sighed Wren.
"Get me the incident report on the planetoid and the attack on
the two crewmen," North snapped. There was something not quite right
here, something he was missing.
No one moved.
"Now!" he barked.
And so the search teams started out again. This time North, after
reviewing the incident reports, joined them, accompanying a team on
Deck 20. The two previous attacks had been on Decks 21 and 22; it made
as much sense as any to search here as anywhere else.
North walked ahead of the small team. One person carried the
bulky particle intake device; others came along as spotters to look for
the gas cloud.
North walked along with them, not looking too hard, confident
that trouble would find him.
After two hours of searching the corridors and maintenance rooms
they started to tire. North knew that a search to locate the cloud
would probably be fruitless; the Glory was simply too big, and the gas
cloud was too big and elusive. But he had another goal in mind.
And then, searching in one of the secondary generator rooms, he
smelled it. A faint salty smell.
North snapped his fingers, sniffed, and pointed in the direction
of the smell. It was just around the corner, behind a bulkhead.
Cautiously they moved forward...
and a gas cloud spun around the corner, barely whipping past
North before settling on two of the marines. They screamed and clutched
their faces. The Marine in the environmental suit turned the particle
intake machine on them, but the cloud turned on him, and he dropped the
device, clutching his face too.
North backed away, triggering the alarm with his wrist comm. The
marines were still screaming; only the ones in back were unaffected,
but they didn't have any weapons that could stop that thing. And the
cloud was between North and the only exit.
The marines dropped to the floor, and the cloud turned and moved
toward North.
Things happened very quickly at that point, and only someone with
a sharp eye could describe exactly what happened.
A second cloud, which had formerly been transparent, dropped down
from above and formed a misty sphere in front of North. The first cloud
turned red, and then the new cloud also turned red.
Bolts of electricity flashed between the two clouds, back and
forth, back and forth. It was as if a miniature storm was brewing in
engineering. Little shrieks could be heard as the bolts blasted hot and
fast.
The clouds circled around each other, faster and faster, shooting
at each other, and then they started to become fainter and fainter, one
fainting much more quickly than the other one.
And then, in an instant, it was over; one of the clouds faded
completely, and the other one stopped spinning and whirring.
North held his breath, not knowing, for a second, which one had
won the battle.
And then it solidified in front of the War Admiral, and, to the
total astonishment of the marines, they saw something that looked like
a pink tongue lick his hand.
"-And so I knew there had to be two of them," said North, sitting
down to dinner in the war room with Wren and Dulin. "Given the time of
the attack, there was no way it could've been on deck 22 and in my
quarters at the same time."
"So what if there were two of them?" said Wren. "They both could
have been equally hostile."
"Possibly," said North. "But consider this; how did they get on
the transport? Captain Took testified that none of them sneaked onto
the transport during or after the attack; therefore, they must have
gotten aboard before the attack. Therefore, they must not have been the
ones who attacked our marines."
"But they could've been just like them."
"Possibly," said North. "But accept, for a moment, my hypothesis
that these beings have the intelligence of animals, and attack on
instinct, nothing more. Why wouldn't they have attacked the occupants
of the transport?"
"Obviously, something must have been holding them back," said
North. "I hypothesize that there at least two kinds of gas cloud
creatures, the aggressive ones that attacked our crew, and another kind
that only attacks the aggressive ones, like this one," he said,
reaching down to pet the gas cloud dog, who was sitting obediently by
his chair.
"Two gas clouds boarded our shuttle. This one must have been
restraining the other one from attacking, otherwise the transport would
never have reached the Glory. But when the transport landed, this other
gas cloud escaped, and they went their own separate ways."
"And you purposely sought out the hostile cloud, knowing the
friendly one would stick around to protect you," said Dulin. "That's
really risking your life on a hypothesis, isn't it?"
The War Admiral smiled. "We haven't had any more attacks in the
past few days, have we? I would say that my hunch paid off."
He took another bite of his dinner.
"Just what does that thing eat?" Wren asked.
"We're really not sure. Doctor Farb hypothesizes it gets
nutrition by breaking down the molecules of the oxygen around it," said
the War Admiral. "But please don't call it a thing. His name is "Puffy"
or "the War Admiral's dog", if you please."
"I thought pets were against military regulations," said Dulin.
"He's not a pet, he's a mascot," said the War Admiral,
affectionately putting his hand in and through Puffy's "fur". Puffy
smiled at the attention he received. "Goood doggie!"
And that is the story of how the War Admiral got himself a dog.
Chapter 6: Loss of Vision
From the Log of War Admiral Norman North, 2.5 year after Vitalics:
We have continued our search for Monumental civilizations but haven't
come up with anything promising. We've found several more monuments,
but nothing substantial, like a Monumental city or derelict warship. I
have to be realistic about things--it may take years, even decades for
us to find anything useful.
The only piece of good news is that we've finally eluded the
Insects. We haven't seen even a sign of them in over a year, and I now
think we're too far out to be caught by their pursuing fleets, if there
are any. Conversely, of course, the farther out we go the longer it
will take us to get back; if we find useful technology 5 or 10 years
down the line, it will take us an additional five or ten years to
return. I'm not sure many of the crew here have thought that far ahead.
Morale is low, mostly from lack of action and boredom, so I've
staged a series of wargames to keep the fleet occupied. The only ones
excused are Captain Took, Lieutenant Obe, and the Blue Luna, who are
reconnoitering a binary system not far from our present trajectory. We
expect to link up with them in a few hours.
********************************************************************
The human deep space cruiser loomed large on the screen of the
Insect flat top. Admiral Torss stared at the image of the cruiser as he
waited for the visiting shuttle to dock with his carrier.
This is what they had in mind when she called for reinforcements.
Her fleet--two flat tops, two battlecruisers, and eight destroyers, was
small by any standard, and certainly not capable of taking on the human
fleet. When Torss had been sent out she had been promised
reinforcements before she had located the humans. Well, she had located
the humans, had even located them without being detected (so she
thought), and this solitary ship was all the reinforcements she had
received!
One, solitary ship. A human ship, one of their deep space
cruisers.
The Captain of the ship, one SStosss, came onto the bridge.
"Welcome," said Admiral Torss. "Where is the rest of our
reinforcements?"
Sstosss pointed to the human ship on the screen.
"I don't find that amusing," said Torss. "We do not have a force
strong enough to defeat the humans, even with you and your crew."
"You do now," said Sstosss. "And I don't have a crew."
"No crew..." Suddenly, it all made sense. "A trap?"
Sstosss nodded. "The ship is lined with special explosives."
"Won't they detect it?"
"No," said Sstosss. "All has been taken care of."
"Are the explosives enough to destroy their entire fleet?" Torss
asked skeptically.
"If detonated at close range, they can destroy the Glory and any
nearby ships."
"Our sensors show the humans have approximately 50 or 60 combat
vessels. Will that be enough to ensure our victory against them?"
"Yes," said Sstosss. "Remember I said these were a special kind
of explosives. Exploding them creates a special byproduct, a brilliant
white light which will blind them all."
"Blind," said Torss, suddenly understanding the significance.
"Then it won't matter how many ships they have! They won't be able to
see or function!"
"Exactly," said Sstosss. "It is all part of Admiral Stay's plan.
Once the Glory and its immediate escorts are destroyed and the rest of
the enemy is blinded, you can go in and finish them off."
"Launch the ship at once!"
********************************************************************
"It's a conspiracy, Obe," said Took, sitting in the mess hall of
the Blue Luna.
"You always say that," said Obe.
"Because it always is!" said Took.
"Lower your voice," Obe hissed, looking away from the other
diners.
"It always is," said Took. "Think about it. Global war games, and
the War Admiral has everyone participate except his two best pilots.
Why?"
"You tell me," said Obe.
"He's grooming someone to replace us," said Took.
"To replace both of us?"
"Ok, just me," said Took.
"That's what you thought when the Ken Pilot came aboard."
"Ok, so I admit I was wrong about K."
"Glad to hear you admit you were wrong about something."
It had been like this for the past two days. They had been sent
out to reconnoiter some planetary bodies around the binary star just at
the edge of sensor range. What they found when they got close was
nothing--not even a habitable atmosphere. And now they were returning
to the fleet, empty handed.
"What a waste of time," said Took.
"What's really bothering you?"
"Oh, I wanted to participate in the war games," said Took.
"They'll be other war games," said Obe. "Besides, they're
probably all over by now; everyone's back on board, just trying to get
through another humdrum day."
On the Glory, Lieutenant Shishman said, "Sir, getting a blip on
sensors."
"Identity?" said Captain Dulin. "Is it the Blue Luna?" If so,
they were returning a few hours ahead of schedule.
"No..." said Shishman. "It's coming from a different direction."
He tapped a few keys, and an IDENT code appeared on the holographic
display by the blip. "A deep space cruiser."
"We don't have any deep space cruisers out on patrol," said
Dulin.
Shishman tapped a few keys. "Sir, it isn't one of ours!"
Dulin tapped a key. "War Admiral, to the bridge!"
The War Admiral came out of his office a moment later. "Yes,
Captain?"
"Sir, we're being approached by a DSC; but it's not one from our
fleet."
The War Admiral raised an eyebrow, turning to the holographic
display, and studied the readings. "Has anyone tried hailing it?"
"Sir, they are hailing us now," said Lieutenant Shishman.
"On open comm," said North, sitting back in his chair. This would
be interesting.
A holographic image of a captain sitting on a cruiser's bridge
appeared before them. "My name is Captain Thomas Smith of the Deep
Space Cruiser Sharon. I wish to speak to your commander."
North stood up again, trying to restrain the feeling of
excitement. "This is War Admiral Norman North of the combined fleet-"
"North? War Admiral North? Is that really you? You survived,
sir?" said Smith.
"Yes, and a number of ships of the line," said North.
Smith looked almost speechless. "Sir, I'm honored. You've been a
living legend all my life!"
North held up a restraining hand. "That's quite all right,
Captain Smith. Tell me, how do you find yourself this far out here?
Were you at Vitalics?"
"Yes, we were at Vitalics," said Smith, looking subdued.
"What happened there?"
"We were attacked by some kind of special weapon."
"What kind of weapon?"
"We don't know, we were on the very edges of it," said Smith. "We
were lucky to escape."
"Did you see any other ship escape?"
"No," said Smith. "We fled deeper into the Alliance as the
Insects advanced, broadcasting warnings where we could. When we hit
Orotis we heard that the remnants of our fleet had just been by, and
started after you."
"And so you've been following after us, these past two and a half
years," said North.
"Yes," said Smith.
"Very lucky that you've found us," said North, not letting his
tone or expression change.
"Well, yes, we've been searching a long time."
"How is your crew?" North asked.
"They're fine, Admiral," said Smith.
North could see some of them in their chairs in the background
shot of Smith's bridge, attending to their consoles.
"What do you suggest?" said the War Admiral.
"A meeting," said Smith. "We can trade information we've
gathered. We've also got a lot of supplies you might be able to use--
we've stocked up on a lot of extra food we can't eat ourselves."
"We have a perennial shortage of food, that would be most
welcome," said North.
"I think the best way to distribute it is by docking and making
the transfer direct," said Smith. "It would take too many transport
flights to ship it over to you."
"Hang on, Captain," said North. He gave a tight smile. "We'll
have to clear this with our logistics department. Can I put you on hold
for a few minutes?"
"Certainly," said Smith. "It will take us almost an hour to get
in range anyway."
"Fine," said North. "Talk with you soon." He gestured to
Shishman, and the image faded.
North turned to the other officers. "Opinions?"
"He looks just like what he seems," said Dulin slowly.
"I think it's nothing short of fantastic that he managed to
locate us," said Commander Wren. "But he looks and acts human."
"Yes...: said North. He closed his eyes, seeming to think for a
moment. Then, opening them, he said to Lieutenant Shishman, "Get me
Captain Tens Zender of the Fast Attack Destroyer Suny Blue."
North turned to Wren. "Check to see whether the Sharon was
attached to the Vitalics battlegroup."
"I just did," said Wren. "It was. Its transponder code also
matches the Sharon's."
The hologram of a destroyer captain appeared on the bridge. "War
Admiral?"
"I thought your ship was the only surviving ship from the
disaster at Vitalics," said the War Admiral. "It seems I was wrong. Was
your ship positioned anywhere near the Deep Space Cruiser Sharon?"
Zender frowned, thinking. "No, I don't think so."
"Do you have any telemetry footage of the Sharon, as you departed
the battle, either showing it intact, damaged, or destroyed?"
"I'd have to check," said Zender, nodding to one of his officers.
"Check quickly," said North. He checked the sensor scan of the
Sharon. It showed a standard Deep Space Cruiser. Maybe he was being too
suspicious. He had been suspicious when Zender's ship had shown up, and
Zender had really been what he appeared to be.
But Zender had shown up before they were out of Alliance space,
not lost among thousands of cubed lightyears of uncharted space. This
encounter was much less likely. But it was still possible.
"No sir, no footage," said Zender.
"Thank you, Captain," said North. Then, almost as an
afterthought. "Captain?"
"Sir?"
"One more thing. Tell me again about this special weapon that
attacked you at Vitalics."
"It wasn't so much a weapon as a dampening field, some sort of
mist that drained the energy in our ship's systems."
"You had no problems detecting this mist?"
"Detecting, no, we could see it visually," said Zender, looking
puzzled.
"I see," said North. "Thank you, Captain." He nodded, and
Shishman terminated the signal.
"Admiral?" said Dulin.
"Why couldn't Smith better describe what kind of weapon they used
at Vitalics?" North asked.
"Maybe he couldn't see from where his ship was located," said
Dulin. "It could be anything. That's not reason enough to blow his ship
out of the stars."
"You think Smith is being coerced, or operating under some kind
of mind control?" Commander Wren asked.
"Coerced?" North shook his head. "Possible, but not very likely.
I don't want to believe that any fleet captain could be coerced by the
enemy to betray his own. Mind control? Also possible, but does that
mean he's been under mind control for several years, while they hunted
for us? No, if they were going to do something like that, they wouldn't
rely on him being under their control for that long. There would have
to be other Insects aboard, to monitor his behavior, and I don't think
that's the case here."
"Then... maybe he is exactly what he seems to be," said Wren.
"Maybe," said North, suddenly thinking of another possibility,
one that made a lot more sense. He nodded to Shishman. "Get him back."
He turned to the bridge crew. "Whatever I say, or do, don't react..
It's very important you act as if everything is normal."
In a moment Captain's Smith hologram filled the bridge.
"Have you sorted things out with your logistics department, War
Admiral?" Smith asked pleasantly.
"Yes, we're looking forward to meeting you in person," said the
War Admiral.
"Docking scheduled in 45 minutes," said Smith, checking a
readout.
"Yes," said the War Admiral. "What kind of missiles are you
carrying?"
"Standard 44-J warheads," said Smith.
"What colors are roses?"
"Red," said Smith.
"If you stand outside in a rain, what happens?"
"You get wet," said Smith, smiling.
"What do you do when your boots start losing color?"
"They need to be polished," Smith grinned.
"When you walk one mile north of your home, what's the most
direct route back?"
"One mile south," said Smith, smiling gently.
The entire bridge crew of the Glory worked hard at maintaining a
normal expression.
"You must miss your family," said North.
"Yes, it's very sad to think I won't see them again," said Smith
looking unhappy.
"What's your favorite color?"
"Red!" said Smith, smiling again.
"Thank you, Captain.'
'Thank you, War Admiral," he said, smiling again.
North pressed a button, and the image faded. "The better they
make them, the stupider they get."
"Sir?" said Dulin, uncertain as to what had just transpired.
"A computer, Captain," said North. "Programmed to answer my
questions, to look happy when certain subjects are discussed, sad at
others, and generally content about minor matters. Commander! Turn the
fleet around, top speed!"
"Sir?"
"I'll bet you your commission that our friendly deep space
cruiser is packed from stem to stern with high energy explosives. Do
it!"
Shortly after the fleet turned around, their sensors readings of
the deep space cruiser changed.
"Now I'm reading a non-standard configuration," said Shishman.
"Heavily shielded. And it's catching up to us."
"How much time do we gain by flying away from it?" North asked
tightly.
"It will reach the slowest merchant ships-"
"It's after bigger game," North said, interrupting. "How long
before it reaches us?"
"One hundred and fifteen minutes."
"I've done a scan of it's shielding; it seems to have a very
strong configuration; the entire ship seems to be forcescreens and
armor," said Dulin, pointing to a schematic.
"And explosives," said North.
"We could send our battlecruiser squadron out to engage it," said
Dulin.
"And what would happen to our squadron when it detonated?" North
asked, studying the schematic intently.
"It depends on how much explosives were onboard, and at what
distance they were," said Dulin.
"Got it," said North, referring to something else as he studied a
close scan on the corner of the schematic. "Get me your best
demolitions expert." He paused, considering. "And get me the Ken
Pilot."
"Is this really going to work?" said Zetho Arkasian, as he let
himself be strapped to the underside of the Ken Pilot's beatup fighter.
The Ken Pilot gave no answer, but continued to tie the straps
around Petro's spacesuit.
"Zetho, who talked you into this crazy mission, flying on the
outside of this fighter?" This was from his burly brother Yurgi, the
Glory's chief engineer. Not many knew the two were even related, though
there was some resemblance.
"The War Admiral," said Zetho.
"Hold this," said the Ken Pilot, giving Zetho an equipment
satchel, as he secured a harness around Zetho and attached it to a ring
on the tip of his ship. "You have all your other equipment?"
"Yes," said Zetho. "Right below the thruster pack. But I've never
flown on the outside of a ship before! Any advice?"
The Ken Pilot considered for a moment. "Close your eyes."
"You take care of yourself, Zetho!" said Yurgi. He watched as the
Ken Pilot jumped from a wing into the cockpit in one easy motion and
the ship prepped for liftoff.
"This had better work," said Dulin, watching the fighter takeoff.
"We're sending the best," said the War Admiral.
"Don't let Captain Took hear you say that," said Dulin dryly.
"Time?"
"If it goes for point-blank detonation, seventy three minutes"
said Dulin.
"Disperse the fleet," said the War Admiral. "There's no sense in
letting any other ship get harmed."
"Admiral, are you sure you don't want a screen of battlecruisers
as a last minute defense?" Dulin asked.
The War Admiral shook his head.
Half Commander Stacy Wren bit her lower lip.
The Ken Pilot maneuvered to the cruiser quickly; it had no
external weapons, so there was no worry about coming under attack.
Zetho felt the great sensation of acceleration, but kept his eyes
tightly shut.
The Ken Pilot shot past the cruiser, then turned around, giving
chase, matching velocities and quickly closing in. When he was a few
hundred feet behind the aft section, he matched velocities perfectly,
and started studying his scanner very, very closely.
"What's happening?" said Zetho, over his suit radio.
The Ken Pilot gave no answer. He studied the sensor readings very
closely as he minutely turned the ship slightly to the left or slightly
to the right, his hand poised over a button and his eyes also glancing
at a targeting site.
And then, in a split second, his hand jerked and pressed the fire
button, and a grapple shot out from the Wildcat-5, heading straight for
the cruiser. It narrowly shot through the nineteen inch gap between the
ship's lateral and port shields, and stuck firmly to the ship's hull.
"Ready," said the Ken Pilot. And then, uncharacteristically, he
added, "Good luck."
Zetho opened his eyes and unstrapped himself, and pulled on the
line connecting him to the tether. He activated his suitpack and
started accelerating slowly towards the cruiser.
"I'd pick up the pace if I were you," said the Ken Pilot,
monitoring his progress. "You have at most 45 minutes."
"If I go too fast I could hit the shielding," Zetho snapped. But
he went a bit faster all the same.
The Ken Pilot said nothing.
Zetho slowed down rapidly as he approached the ship. The glare
from the cruiser's engines made it difficult to see clearly. He set the
polarizer on his suit to half maximum. He still had to see enough to
see... there! Flickering on the edges.
Breathing heavily, Zetho twisted around so he was on the side of
the rope farthest from the nearest forcescreen. One instant of contact
would be enough to breach his suit....
He slowly pulled his way through, and didn't breath easily until
he was on the hull. Lying down against the hull, he started to crawl
under the forcescreens around the ship towards the port airlock....
"I'm at the airlock," he reported, eyeing it warily. "I'm going to
check for-"
"No time," came an unexpected voice over the command circuit. It
was the War Admiral. "It's not likely they anticipated boarding."
"Not likely," Zetho muttered. Taking a deep breath, he entered
the airlock and triggered the cycling mechanism.
There was a thin atmosphere inside the ship, though Zetho didn't
bother to check the readings or see what kind. Still in his spacesuit,
he was racing, on the run, to the bridge. Someone had left the lights
on in the ship; either they had forgotten to turn them off, or someone
was actually on board! Zetho had a blaster with him, but he hadn't
fired a weapon, even on the practice range, for some time.
The bridge was at the other end of the ship, and Zetho wasted
precious time hobbling there in his bulky suit. But that was the
logical location to go to, the nerve center of any ship. He scrambled
as fast as he could.
"Arkasian, you have thirty minutes," said the War Admiral's calm
voice. "What is your situation?"
Puffing as he moved rapidly, Zetho entered the bridge. He stepped
through the door and-
found himself in an empty room. A completely empty room.
"I'm on the bridge," said Zetho, trying to catch a breath and
recover from the surprise at the same time."
"Can you deactivate the ship?" said the War Admiral.
"No," said Zetho.
"Are you sure?" said the War Admiral, thinking the answer came
too quickly.
"War Admiral, there are no controls on the bridge."
The War Admiral thought quickly. "They could be anywhere."
"And you have twenty eight minutes," came the Ken Pilot's dry
voice.
"Get to engineering," said the War Admiral. The engines, at
least, had to be located in one set place.
So Zetho started running back the way he had come.
On the bridge the War Admiral muttered, "I don't like it."
"Sir?" said Wren.
"We only have 28 minutes if it's set to point blank detonation;
if it's set to detonate at a farther range, we may have even less
time."
Zetho realized that he was really out of shape. He gasped for
air, and, despite himself, had to stop for a rest in a corridor.
"What are you doing?" said the Ken Pilot. "Why have you stopped?"
"What?" said Zetho. The ship was shielded from intensive scans;
how could the Ken Pilot know that he had stopped?
"I hear your breathing slowing," said the Ken Pilot. Odd, that he
would have such good hearing.
"Arkasian?" came the War Admiral's voice.
"I'm moving again, sir," Zetho puffed, starting to run again.
He reached engineering, or where engineering should be, only to
find a sealed bulkhead in his way.
Zetho explained the situation quickly. "--it will take too long
to cut through."
The War Admiral frowned. Well, that ruled out the possibility of
shutting down the power or turning the ship around. There was only one
choice left, then. He cleared his throat, and said, "Proceed with the
last contingency plan we discussed. Are you sufficiently near the
explosives?"
Zetho slowly walked down the corridors, opening the door to one
room, and then another, and then another. His helmet lamp showed that
each were tightly packed with brown boxes. "I don't think that's a
problem, sir."
"Then proceed."
Zetho gingerly opened the satchel the Ken Pilot had given him.
The explosives had a shiny exterior that reflected the light from his
helmet lamp.
"You have twelve minutes until point blank detonation," said
Captain Dulin. "If indeed we even have that much time." The deep space
cruiser loomed large on the screen, closing rapidly on the Glory's
stern.
"Set it for a five minutes," said the War Admiral quietly.
"Sir?" said Zetho, a bit startled. Then, understanding, he said,
"Yes sir." Then, a few seconds later. "Explosives set."
"Get out of there NOW!" That surprising exclamation came from the
Ken Pilot.
Zetho, not really sure what he planned to do, was jolted into
action by the Ken Pilot's words.
He started running heavily. "Don't... wait.... for me...."
"You now have four minutes and thirty seconds before detonation,"
said the Ken Pilot. "I would recommend more speed, less speech."
Zetho ran until he thought his lungs were about to burst, and
then he ran a bit more. He reached the airlock, entered, and pressed
the cycle button.
Nothing happened.
"You now have two minutes, and thirty seconds," said the Ken
Pilot dryly.
Zetho hit the controls again. The air started to spill out of the
lock. The doors slowly opened. Zetho started crawling frantically
across the hull. "I won't make it... with enough time to escape," he
rasped.
"You now have one minute, twenty seconds" said the Ken Pilot.
On the bridge of the Glory everyone watched the ship approached.
"All hands, brace yourselves for detonation," said the War Admiral, his
finger depressing the comm. Wren grabbed a railing; Dulin sat down in
his chair and grabbed the arms securely. The War Admiral grabbed a
console. There were no seatbelts; no one ever expected a ship as large
as the Glory to encounter rough sailing.
Zetho crawled along the outer hull. "I can't see the line!"
"You now have fifty five seconds," said the Ken Pilot, adding
"I'm getting impatient."
Then Zetho crawled some more, and saw the line around the curve
of the ship. he grabbed it, started pulling....
The Ken Pilot watched closely. "Forty five seconds." The second
that Zetho cleared the shield, or at the least the second the Ken Pilot
thought he cleared the shield, he turned the ship around in one smooth
maneuver and headed away at full velocity. "Hang on," said the Ken
Pilot dryly.
The end of the rope attached to the cruiser's hull snapped, and
Zetho was yanked away. He held on for dear life as the battered
Wildcat-5 accelerated at full speed. Zetho started to lose his grip
with one hand as the rope pulled away, and he tried to hold on harder
with the other hand.
On the Glory, Shishman was monitoring the countdown as the
cruiser loomed closer "...Seven... six... five... four... three...
two... one....".
There was a giant explosion and the cruiser detonated two hundred
and twelve miles astern of the Glory. The ship shook with the
vibrations of the explosion, but then, in the body of the explosion, a
white light formed, spreading outwards. Everyone instinctively closed
their eyes and covered them with their hands, but the light penetrated
everywhere; through the hull of the ship, through bulkhead after
bulkhead, and even through their hands and closed eyes. The light
spread outwards, encompassing the other ships of the fleet, even those
that had already put some distance between themselves and the Glory.
The force of the light only started to dissipate over a distance of
hundreds of thousands of miles, and even then, those who saw it had to
cringe at the white flash.
"What was that?" said Captain Harkness of the Blue Luna, blinking
at the spots in his eyes from whatever had just passed them.
"Some kind of bright white light, sir," said an officer.
"I know that," Harkness snapped. "Tell me something I don't
know."
"It seems to have come from an explosion in the vicinity of the
fleet."
"This far out?" said Harkness, stunned. It must have been some
explosion. "Get me the Glory."
His comm officer signaled the Glory.
"No response, sir."
"No response?" said Harkness. "Try the rest of the fleet."
Patience. One minute, then two, then three, then
"Again, no response."
Harkness refused to consider the obvious. Had a massive explosion
destroyed the fleet. "Long range scan," he barked.
To his relief, the images of the fleet's ships were intact. "All
there," he muttered. "They're just not answering. Could it be some kind
of EM dampening field?"
"Negative, sir," said the comm officers. "Our signals are being
received and bounced back."
"Then something is very, very wrong with the fleet," muttered
Harkness. "All stop! Get me Captain Took and Lieutenant Obe, on the
double."
The pair of Wildcats streaked towards the fleet.
"I love it whenever someone else decides I'm expendable," said
Took. "I just wish they'd come out and say it."
"The Captain didn't want to risk the ship until he finds out
what's going on," said Obe.
"Maybe it's a comm failure."
"On every ship in the fleet?" said Obe.
"We'll find out soon enough," said Took nervously, as they
maneuvered into the body of the fleet. From the outside everything
looked normal.
They tried to raise the Glory again, but got no response.
"Glory, this is Captain Took, requesting landing clearance," said
Took. No response. "Glory, this is Captain Took, requesting landing
clearance." Again, no response.
"This is really spooky," said Took, as he flew over the mammoth
ship. "All right, Glory, this is Captain Took, and I am designating Bay
1 the Captain Idaho J. Took Memorial Landing Bay. You'd better not have
anything launching where I'm landing."
They landed in the bay, and almost from the instant they exited
their ships, they knew something was wrong.
The bay crew were there, but they were crying, or yelling, or
wandering around aimlessly.
"What's wrong?" said Took, to one of them; but the tech simply
walked right by him, as if he didn't see him, crying about something.
Another tech said, "Took? Took, is that you?"
"Casey?" said Took, looking at the tech.
"Took, it's you!" she said.
"Of course it's me," said Took. "Can't you tell? And why are you
looking so oddly at me."
"I'm not looking at anything," she said. "Took, I'm BLIND!"
Suddenly, everything became apparent.
They made their way to the bridge, past the disconsolate,
confused, and upset crewers.
When they stepped onto the bridge they saw the crew, sitting at
their controls. Good. Maybe they weren't affected.
"Who's there?" said Captain Dulin, sitting in his chair.
Oh oh. "Captain Took and Lieutenant Obe," said Took.
"Can you see?" said the War Admiral.
Oh no, not him too. Took walked right in front of the War
Admiral. He stared right through them.
"Yes," said Took.
"The Blue Luna?"
"We're all fine."
"The rest of the fleet?" said the War Admiral.
"We don't know, but... we can't raise any of them," said Took
"They're all blind," said the War Admiral. "I should've foreseen
this," he said, without the slightest hint of irony.
"-and that's the situation, sir," said Took, speaking into the
comm to Captain Harkness. "Some kind of booby trap."
"Any sign of hostiles?" came Harkness's craggy voice.
"No, but I imagine it will only be a matter of time before they
show up," said Took.
"One moment," said the War Admiral, interrupting. "Captain
Harkness"
"Sir?"
"I am giving you operational command of the fleet during this
crisis. You will follow my instructions directly."
"Sir, yes sir."
The War Admiral said, "What is your crew complement, I believe,
82 officers and 397 men, if I remember correctly?"
"Sir, yes sir."
"I recommend you disperse them so that at least a half dozen are
on every ship."
"Sir, with only six men per ship, we we'll be vulnerable to-"
"Captain, our immediate priority is for the care of the crews. We
cannot even eat or sleep much less man our stations without
assistance."
"Yes sir," said Harkness.
"Captain Took," said the War Admiral.
"Sir?"
"I am putting you in command of the Glory."
"Sir, I'm not a naval captain, I'm a spaceforce pilot, wouldn't
one of Captain Harkness's senior officers-"
"You are the sighted officer with the most experience on the
Glory," said the War Admiral. "Your first task is to try the best you
can to tend to the crew. When the crew from the Blue Luna arrive, set
up group messhall and sleeping arrangements."
Six people, to do that for 3,000 crewmembers?
"Sir-"
"Do the best you can," said the War Admiral. "Lieutenant Obe."
"Sir?"
"David Norman's fighter was near the area of the blast. See if
you can locate it on sensors."
Obe checked the sensors logs. There was a tense moment, then he
said, "No sir. Nowhere on sensors."
The War Admiral swallowed heavily. "Very well."
Took looked at the officers, still sitting calmly in their
chairs. He went over to Commander Wren. "How come when we came in you
guys weren't groping around, like the others?"
"The War Admiral told us not to touch anything," she whispered.
"Who knows what a blind person could do accidentally with the
controls."
"Hm," said Took.
"Attention all hands, attention all hands, this is acting Captain
Iday Took," said Took, speaking over the comm. "I mean, when I say
"acting", I mean it's not like I merely play one on holostories. I'm a
real captain, but just a space fighter captain; the acting part is the
naval part-"
"Took," said Dulin warningly.
"Ah, yes, well, there's some good news, and there's some bad
news." Should he deliver the good news first, or the bad news? Took
always liked delivering the good news first. "The good news is that I
and Obe and the ten crewers who landed from the Blue Luna have our
sight," said Took. Now comes the bad part. "The bad news is that no one
else on the ship does. So we're setting up group assembly points on
decks four, eight, twelve, and fifteen. Try to feel your way there by
touch. We have a doc coming up from the Blue Luna, he's going to check
you all out, and everything should be fine," said Took reassuringly.
One doctor. For 3,000 patients. It was truly mind boggling. What else
was there to say? "Ah, I'll be back with more news, later." He closed
the channel.
The War Admiral, in his office, heard a buzz. "Come in," he said.
The door slid open, someone came in, and the door slid close.
"Have a seat, Commander. There should be one about five feet from the
door, if I recall."
Wren was incredulous. "How did you know it was me?"
"I smelled your perfume."
"I don't wear any," said Wren.
"I recognized the sounds of your footsteps."
"On carpeting? I don't make any, Admiral."
"Just a lucky guess, then," said the War Admiral, smiling to no
one in particular. He knew it had to be her. "What can I do for you?"
"Nothing really," said Wren. "I just wanted to talk."
"Talk is about all I'm capable of right now," said the War
Admiral. "For once in my life, I have plenty of time."
"What if... what if it's permanent?" said Wren.
"Our blindness?" said the War Admiral.
"I've been a soldier most of my life. I can't bear the thought of
spending the rest of it as a cripple, taken care of, coddled like a
child."
"It won't come to that," said the War Admiral grimly.
"What do you mean?"
"Do the math, Stacy," said the War Admiral gently. "Approximately
20,000 crewmen blind, with only 500 crewmen to tend the rest of the
fleet. How do they run and maintain a fleet of this size, while at the
same time caring for all of us?"
"They can't," said Wren.
"Exactly," said the War Admiral. "Why do you think I've retained
ultimate command?"
Wren didn't answer.
"If there's no prospect of recovery, I'll order the Blue Luna to
recall its crew and head off on its own," said the War Admiral. He left
the obvious unsaid.
Wren started trembling. "I've never been afraid to die... but to
go like this....." She looked at the direction where she thought the
War Admiral might be standing. "Aren't you scared?"
The War Admiral raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
"Where is that doctor?" said Colonel Darley. "He should have been
here some time ago."
"The doctor will come," said the War Admiral, entering the bridge
slowly from his office, walking the route he knew so well from memory.
Commander Wren followed close behind, feeling for the railing around
her.
Suddenly, they heard someone enter the bridge. "The Doctor was
delayed," said a familiar voice that all could recognize by sound. It
was impossible to believe... but it was the Ken Pilot!
"David!" said the War Admiral. "You're alive!"
Took looked over at the Ken Pilot, who was in the company of the
doctor. He had some mild burns on his face.
"What happened to you?" said Took.
"Radiation," said the Ken Pilot. "From the explosion. I had to
borrow the doctor to treat Arkasian."
"Arkasian is alive too?" said Wren.
"I yanked him out just in time," said the Ken Pilot. "But his
radiation burns were worse than mine."
"Wait a minute," said Colonel Darley. "Are you blind?"
"Apparently," said the Ken Pilot, refusing to concede anything.
"You were outside the ship in your fighter."
"Yes," said the Ken Pilot.
"Did one of the Blue Luna's crew rescue you?"
"No," said the Ken Pilot.
"Then how did you get back to the Glory?"
"I flew into Bay Two," said the Ken Pilot.
"And you can't see a thing."
"No," admitted the Ken Pilot.
"How did you-"
"Can this wait?" said the doctor. "My name is Doctor Gurn,
Captain. I'd like to take you to sickbay and examine you."
"Take Commander Wren," said Dulin. "My place is on the bridge."
"You should both go," said Took.
"No, I'd rather stay-"
"Don't make me give you an order, Captain," said Took.
Dulin opened his mouth, considered, and then turned to where he
thought the War Admiral might be. "War Admiral-"
"He's in charge," said the War Admiral. "You might as well go,
Captain. There isn't much any of us can do here."
"You should go too, Admiral," said Took.
The War Admiral acted as if he didn't hear Took. "I'll be in my
office. Alert me if anything arises."
As soon as they had filed out, Took looked around him, at the
majesty of the being in command of the largest ship in the fleet. The
bridge was large, two stories tall, with crew members sitting by panels
on both levels. The power of the Glory to launch starfighters, deliver
laser batteries, and launch destructive missiles was awesome. And he, a
lowly starfighter captain, was in charge of it all.
"I never thought I'd be in charge of all this," Took muttered.
"But then, I also never thought I'd be in charge of a ship full of
blind people, either."
Suddenly, an officer shifted position, and one of the consoles
bleeped. "Hey, watch where you put your elbow, Shishman," said Took.
Managing the ship was a nightmare. Crewmembers tried to make
their way to the gathering points, only to find that that navigating by
touch and memory sometimes had unpredictable results; several of the
crewmembers heading towards the messhall on Deck 16 found themselves
lost in the engineering section, and couldn't find their way out.
Others who did make it there found themselves on the ends of very long
lines waiting to be served by the single crewman assigned to that
collection point. Obviously, the crew couldn't survive very long going
on like this.
Took kept to the bridge, partially because there was nothing he
could do, but mostly because the sight of all those blind crewmembers
lining the hall depressed him too much. He tried to issue positive
announcements to keep his spirits up, but then he got some discouraging
feedback from Obe, who had been trying to help guide lost crewmen below
decks.
"How is the crew holding up?" said Took.
"Not well," said Obe. "I've been spending the last two hours
helping lost crewmembers make their way to the collection points."
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Yes," said Obe. He hesitated. "A small thing."
"Name it," said Took, eager to help.
"Some people wants you to stop making announcements."
"Some people?"
"More like everyone," said Obe. "Well, just everyone I've
encountered."
"What?" said Took. Then, "Oh."
"It's nothing personal, Iday," said Obe. "It's just that when
you're facing permanent blindness and you're scared and you're hungry,
unabashed cheerfulness tends to cut through you like a vibroblade."
"Oh," said Took. "All right." But he looked crestfallen.
Some time later there was a ping of an incoming signal.
Lieutenant Shishman instinctively tried to activate the controls, but
he only succeeded in expanding the size of the holographic map.
"That's ok, I got it," said Took, pressing the appropriate
button.
"I got your message you wanted to talk to me," came the
holographic image of Captain Harkness. "Report."
"The doc has just delivered some good news," said Took. "The
blindness is probably temporary."
"Probably?"
"Well, it doesn't look like anything vital was destroyed, their
optic nerves were just paralyzed, or something," said Took, trying to
remember what Gurn said. "Sorry, but I'm not very good with this
medical stuff."
"Did he say when their vision might return?"
"The Doc thinks maybe a few hours, maybe a few days, that it will
vary from person to person" said Took.
"Well, that's really great," said Harkness. "Have you taken a
look at your long range sensors lately?"
"Uh...."
"Check them now. We just picked them up a few minutes ago."
Took expanded the sensor range. There, just on the edge of
detection, was an Insect fleet. It was relatively small--two flat tops,
a few battlecruisers, and some destroyers, but against a blind fleet,
it was more than enough.
"Trouble," said Took. "I wonder why they haven't attacked?"
Suddenly he heard another pinging. "Just a moment." He checked the
source. "Sir, we're getting an incoming signal, from the Insect fleet!"
Sstosss was livid. They should have attacked hours ago. But
Torss, the ever cautious one, wanted to be certain the enemy was
blinded.
"Look," she had said, right after the attack. On extreme sensor
range, they saw the human fleet. "All their ships are intact, including
the Glory. Your plan failed."
Sstosss checked the scanner readout. "The Glory may be crippled;
at this range we can't get a good reading on it. In any event I detect
debris from our ship; it definitely detonated."
"Perhaps, but perhaps it detonated too far away to do any good,"
said Torss.
"The range of the white light-"
"So you say," said Torss. "I propose we wait on the edge of
sensor range for a short time and see how they react."
"How they react?"
"If they move to attack, we will know they aren't blinded, and we
will be able to retreat."
And so they had waited, and waited, and nothing had happened.
They were so close to the edge of their sensor range that it wasn't
even clear the humans could detect their ships. Finally, Torss agreed
to approach, and prepare for attack, but Torss wanted one more test.
"We will contact the humans, and see for ourselves what their condition
is."
"On screen," said the War Admiral.
The flat two dimensional image of the Insect bridge appeared on
their screen. The Insects had selected this mode of communication on
purpose, so they could see more of the Glory's personnel.
"I am War Admiral Norman North," said the War Admiral. "Perhaps
you've heard of me."
"Yes," hissed Torss through her translation device. "I have been
sent to destroy you."
"An admirable goal," said the War Admiral. "Have you checked with
your predecessors to see how they've done?"
"I am calling about surrender...."
The War Admiral blinked. "I'm sorry, but we're not taking on any
prisoners at this time." Lieutenant Obe chose this moment to walk over
to the Admiral with a pad, handed it to him, and he promptly signed it.
"Thank you," he said, looking up at Obe, who returned to his post.
"We are calling for your surrender!" Torss hissed angrily.
"Sorry, we're not in the market for that either," said the War
Admiral. "The way I see it," and he put no special emphasis on his
words, "we have you outgunned. Captain?"
Took, standing at the holographic display, pointed to the images
of the Insect fleet. "Two carriers, a few heavies, some destroyers...
an easy job." He turned and directly faced the War Admiral. "Please
Admiral, let me launch an attack against them, please?"
"I'm having trouble restraining my men," said the War Admiral.
"If you want to live, you'd better retreat."
"We do not retreat!" Torss hissed again.
"Strategic withdrawal, then," said the War Admiral. "End
communications," he nodded to what he thought was Shishman, though it
was Obe who was at his console.
"Well?" said Torss.
"It was quite obviously an act!" said Sstosss. "They made a point
of showing that they had vision, which proves they do not!"
"How can they pretend to have what they do not have?"
"We saw a crewman walk forward. That could have been rehearsed.
Even a blind being can walk rehearsed steps. We saw the War Admiral
sign something in his hands. That is not difficult either. I am more
convinced than ever that they are all blind--and I can prove it."
Sstosss ordered the comm being to pull up the record of the most recent
communication. "Scan the Admiral's eyes; what was he looking at during
the conversation!"
The communications being looked to Torss for permission; Torss
nodded.
In a moment the analysis was complete. "Run, with overlay,"
Sstosss ordered.
On the screen they could see themselves, with Admiral Torss
speaking to the War Admiral. A red arrow appeared on the screen, just
to the right of Admiral Torss. There it stayed throughout much of the
conversation.
"Just as I thought!" said Sstosss triumphantly. "Don't you think
it a little odd that during your communication the War Admiral was
always looking past you?" Sstosss said.
"This is merely a projection," snapped Torss. "We don't know
exactly how our image appeared on his screen, or precisely what angle
he was looking from."
"If you will not attack, permit me the honor!" said Sstosss.
Torss considered. If word of his hesitancy got back to the Queen,
she would surely be relieved of command, and probably worse. But to
attack without certainty...
"All right," said Torss finally. "I will order an attack. A
probing attack. Two squadrons."
"Only two squadrons!"
"If the humans are blind, we shouldn't have any losses, should
we?" said Torss. "If this attack is successful, then we will launch our
remaining squadrons."
"They're launching," said Took. "Looks like two standard Insect
squadrons, 19 ships each."
The War Admiral nodded. "You'll have to take Wildcat "A" to
intercept them."
"Uh, sir," said Took. "I don't want to be too sarcastic, but you
have to know that Wildcat "A" is not exactly up to full strength right
now. In fact, we're a bit less than full strength. In fact, you might
say it's just me, and Obe-."
"Take the pilots you need from the Blue Luna," said the War
Admiral.
"The Blue doesn't have any fighter pilots right now," said Took.
"Oh... I see what you mean."
"Shuttle pilots, transport pilots, anyone who's ever had
experience flying anything outside of an atmosphere," said the War
Admiral. "Find ten warm bodies."
"Me and Obe and ten amateurs, against 40 Insect fighters? How can
we defeat them?"
"I can," said the Ken Pilot, appearing on the bridge. "I'm
joining you."
"Ah, have you regained your site, K?" said Took, hoping against
hope.
"No."
"So you're blind."
"Just get me to my ship, I'll do the rest," said the Ken Pilot.
"So you're saying you're too blind to get to your ship, but once
there, you won't have any troubles flying, or fighting?" said Took.
"Correct," said the Ken Pilot.
Took turned to Obe. "Is it just me?"
"You're running out of time," said the War Admiral. "You'd better
call Harkness on a scrambled channel and make the arrangements. Hurry."
It wasn't just a matter of getting pilots from the Blue Luna;
with the Blue's crew dispersed among the fleet, a more urgent problem
was finding pilots on ships which had Wildcats stationed on them.
But, twenty minutes later, they were in Bay One, almost ready to
launch. "I still don't think this is a good idea," said Took, standing
next to the Ken Pilot.
"Just point me to my ship."
Took did so, and the Ken Pilot climbed up on the wing and into
the cockpit. It was only when Took saw what the Ken Pilot was doing
inside the cockpit that he began to understand. "What's that you're
putting in your ear?"
"My audio sensor," said the Ken Pilot.
"Audio sensor?"
"It makes a different sound, depending on where the enemy ship is
in relation to mine. When I hear this sound, for example" the Ken Pilot
pressed a button, and Took heard a small sound. "I know an enemy is
directly in line with my rear turret., and I can fire."
So that was how the Ken Pilot managed to fire both in front and
in back at the same time!
"But how do you-"
"No time," said the Ken Pilot, closing his cockpit.
Took ran to his own ship.
As soon as they launched and he had linked up with the other
Wildcat pilots, he activated the special scrambled circuit he had set
up with the squadron.
"Took here," he said, as soon as he launched. "Ok, I know a lot
of you are new to fighters, they're just like shuttles and
transporters, only much nimbler and with a lot of firepower. I want
everyone except for Obe and the Ken Pilot to hang back while we handle
the Insects.
"Three of you, against 40 of them?" said one of the new pilots.
"Obe and I are actually just going to watch," said Took. "The Ken
Pilot has handled 40 enemies before on his own, haven't you, K?"
"41 enemy fighters," corrected the Ken Pilot. "Of course, I
wasn't blind at the time."
Obe, flying parallel to Took, gave him a worried glance.
Would the Ken Pilot be able to literally fly blind? Was there a
danger he might shoot one of them by accident? "K, are you going to be
ok?" said Took.
"Yes," said the Ken Pilot. "I can handle all 40. It just may take
a few minutes longer than usual."
"Don't worry, Obe and I will take one or two of the while you
handle the other 38," said Took. Without a trace of irony, he added,
"That should make it easier."
"Here they come!" said one of the pilots.
The battle began. The inexperienced pilots scuttled to get out of
the way, and the Insect ships split off to give chase.
Took lined up one in his sights and fired. "Well, that's one
down." Suddenly, laser fire burst around him as he was targeted by
three different ships coming from three separate directions. He broke
furiously, turning this way and that, but only managed to lose one of
them. The laser fire burst closer to his ship.
"Obe, I'm in a bit of trouble here," said Took.
"I'm a bit busy right now," said Obe, and Took heard laser fire
over the comm. So they were overwhelming him too.
Took twisted left and then hard right, but the two still stayed
with him, and their laser fire came closer. Then, all of a sudden, both
ships exploded into debris.
"Sorry, I was delayed," came the Ken Pilot's voice.
Took did a quick glance at his short range scanner. Nine Insect
ships had been destroyed.
Momentarily free from pursuit, Took went on the attack,
destroying one of Obe's pursuers and a moment later destroying another.
In a matter of minutes it had turned into a rout, and the remaining
Insect ships, some fifteen in all, turned tail and retreated. But not
before they destroyed two of the ships with the new pilots. The new
pilots simply had no knowledge of sophisticated turns and rolls, and
were easy pickings for the Insects, at least until the Ken Pilot was
able to turn his attention to them.
"All right, form up on my wing and let's head back to the Glory,"
said Took. "K, can you land with that hearing aide system of yours?"
"Yes," came the stolid reply.
And then Took realized that he must have done it once before,
when he had brought Arkasian in.
"Our squadrons were defeated!" Torss raged.
"Once again, you draw the wrong conclusion!" said Sstosss. "They
sent out only one squadron to meet our two."
"And defeated us handily."
"Yes, because you didn't send overwhelming force, as I
recommended," said Sstosss.
"What difference would it have made?"
Sstosss had a sneaking suspicion. "Give me some time to analyze
the combat footage and I will show you."
Two hours later Sstosss had her answer. She brought her findings
to a now thoroughly skeptical Sstosss. "Look at the footage now". Each
of the Wildcats were painted pink, except for three Wildcats that were
painted blue.
"Notice how erratically the pink ones are flying?"
"So?"
"Do you notice how all our losses were attributable to the three
blue pilots?"
"Is that true?" said Torss, showing interest for the first time.
"Yes," said Sstosss. "In fact, one of the blue fighters accounted
for most of our losses."
"How is this possible?"
"The other ships must have been flown remotely, or by incompetent
pilots. I was wrong when I said that everyone has been blinded--but I
would suggest that most of their fleet has been blinded. That's why
they weren't able to muster more than three fighters to attack us."
"And the War Admiral?"
"He was obviously blind. The other crewmen must have been among
the few who weren't blind. Perhaps they were on a long range patrol
when the explosion occurred, or on the far side of the fleet. Either
way, this is conclusive evidence that they are blind. If we attack with
overwhelming force, we can win!"
"I'm not certain."
"Think!" said Sstosss. "We're still at extreme range, and we're a
smaller force. Why has the War Admiral not yet attacked us?"
Torss considered. Sstosss' analysis was still speculation, but it
made sense. And if Torss didn't attack, Sstosss's report and Torss's
failure would still probably be enough to get her removed from command.
That left one choice.
"Launch a full-scale attack."
Seven full squadrons launched from the flat tops, and the small
fleet moved forward behind the advancing screen. At first the humans
didn't launch any fighters to intercept them. In fact, their fleet
stayed perfectly still.
"You see?" said Sstosss. "It was all a bluff!"
But then, when the fighters and the fleet got closer, many things
happened at once.
The Glory launched five of its eight squadrons. The Amory Till
launched two squadrons, and other capital ships launched several
fighters as well. Fast attack destroyers and battlecruiser suddenly
powered up, heading directly towards their small fleet.
In moments, the humans were engaging their fighters. Soon after,
they started taking heavy losses. Obviously, blind people were not at
the controls of all those ships.
"What's happening?" said Torss. "This is no deception! You were
wrong! The humans weren't blinded! Retreat!"
The fleet started to turn about, but the fast attack destroyers
were on them too quickly, firing torpedoes. Torss's ship was rocked by
several explosions amid ships.
"Damage report!" shouted Torss.
"We're getting a transmission!" yelled a comm officer over the
sounds of explosions.
The image of the War Admiral appeared on the screen.
"You!" said Torss. "It was all a trick!"
"No," said the War Admiral. "We were blind when you thought we
weren't, but we were simply no longer blind when you thought we were.
You were simply a victim of poor timing," said the War Admiral. "Would
you care to surrender?"
Several more torpedoes slammed into the flat top, hitting the
munitions deck. Suddenly, North's image of Torss's bridge was cut off
as the flat top exploded.
On the bridge of the Glory, the War Admiral remarked, "I guess my
timing was poor too."
The small fleet was quickly overwhelmed and destroyed, although
there were some Wildcat losses in the fleet. Not all the combat pilots
were sufficiently recovered enough to fly, and some of those who did
had suffered double vision and blurriness, which reduced their
efficiency in combat. But they had secured a victory, while keeping
casualties to a minimum.
Captain Dulin appeared on the bridge. He walked over to his
chair, where Took was sitting, watching the repair reports coming in
after the end of the battle. "Good work, Took," he said. "I relieve
you."
Took looked at the War Admiral. "Can he really do that, sir?"
The War Admiral hooked a thumb towards the bridge's starboard
exit, but couldn't resist a grin.
"Oh, all right," said Took, grumbling as he got out of the chair.
"It was fun while it lasted."
Dulin sat down in the chair.
"Listen, Captain, if you ever need a substitute again-"
Dulin gave him a withering look.
"-I'm sure you'll find someone else," said Took, his voice
trailing off.
The laughter on the bridge was as welcome as it was unexpected.
"Hmmmm....." came the sound from the Ken Pilot's cockpit. "That's
the sound of someone 170 degrees, behind me.
"And what's directly behind you?" said Took.
The Ken Pilot pressed a button in the cockpit. "Hmmm....."
"Sounds the same to me," said Took.
"No, it's different," said the Ken Pilot.
"A different sound for each set of trajectories," said Took. "How
many different sounds are there?"
"Currently about 20," said the Ken Pilot.
"And how do you know if the sound represents an enemy or a
friend?"
"The hum makes a slighter higher pitch at the beginning if it's
an ally," said the Ken Pilot. "Listen." He played two examples, both of
which sound identical. "Hear the difference?"
"No," said Took. "But I know one thing; we're lucky you're not
tone deaf, or else we'd all be dead."
Zetho Arkasian, supported by Yurgi, hobbled over to the ship.
"Hey, I heard you made it," said Took. "You really saved us,
pal."
"And the Ken Pilot saved me," Zetho rasped.
"He shouldn't be out of bed, but he insisted on thanking him
personally," said Yurgi.
"Thank you," said Zetho.
"You're welcome," said the Ken Pilot, without any overt display
of emotion.
"Just one thing... I must know," said Zetho.
The Ken Pilot said nothing.
"When you pulled me out, on the rope, it was attached at one end
on your ship, and on the other to the cruiser. When you pulled me out,
how did you know it would snap on the end attached to the cruiser, and
not on the end attached to your ship?" Zetho looked quizzically,
expecting an explanation of how the magnetic grapple worked and how the
Ken Pilot deactivated it.
"I didn't know," said the Ken Pilot.
"You didn't?"
"I couldn't deactivate the grapple, that's one of the parts of my
ship I've been meaning to repair, and there wasn't time. I figured
that if I pulled on the line, it could snap on either end, and that
maybe you had a 50-50 chance of getting lucky," said the Ken Pilot. "It
seemed like a reasonable risk to take, given the alternative."
Zetho, looking a bit shocked, nodded.
"I'd better get him back to bed," said Yurgi, giving the Ken
Pilot a stern glance.
Took, grinning, shook his head. "K, promise me you'll never
change."
"I don't make promises," said the Ken Pilot.
Chapter 7: Dangerous Journalism
From the Log of War Admiral Norman North, 5 year after Vitalics:
Time is slowly passing. I keep thinking that we've seen the last of the
Insects, but it seems, almost like clockwork, that we run into another
one of their fleets every nine to twelve months. We repulse every
attack, but we can't replace our losses, and we've lost more three
ships. As it is, normal wear and tear is taking a toll on our ships; we
have almost exhausted the jury-rigging and cannibalization that we're
able to do; in a year or two we're going to have to start abandoning
some ships to keep others working, which will create difficult
decisions of what to do with their crews.
I have to be honest and say that we haven't made very much
progress in locating Monumental inhabited planets; it's been over two
years since we even encountered a monument. I knew it would be a
difficult search to begin with, but I think that because of our
desperate need I had irrational hopes that we would find what we were
looking for sooner, rather than later. I now have to face up to the
prospect that we may never encounter a Monumental civilization that can
help us; and as our ships break down, the homesteader sentiment grows
stronger.
It started about a year ago. There have been some rumblings in
the fleet that we should stop our endless quest and settle down on one
of the habitable worlds we encounter from time to time. Occasionally
someone has worked up the nerve to mention this idea in my presence. My
answer to them is always the same. If we settle down somewhere, not
only are we giving up any chance we might have of rescuing our home
worlds, but we will be defenseless when the Insects find us. And they
will.
But our crew, in flight for so many years without relief, is
beginning to believe the fantasy that they can find a place where we
can be safe, some obscure planet where the Insects will never look for
us. But as their regular attacks indicate, they haven't given up.
The most interesting question is, where are the Insects coming
from? We haven't located any signs of Insect bases in this area of
space; it would seem that their ships must be coming from formerly
Alliance space. But that is years and years behind us now. How are they
catching up to us so quickly? Do they have hidden bases we haven't
detected? Or have they invented some method of propulsion that enables
them to cross light years in minutes? That last would seem unlikely;
when they attack, they come at relatively the same speed as our ships.
So how are they throwing all these fleets at us, and how are they
finding us so easily?
I can go mad if I don't find ways to relax, so I have taken up
hobbies, and invited the senior staff to participate. Sometimes it's
holography, or three dimensional problem solving, or simple graphical
games; lately I've been interested in musical composition. I invited
Roger Dulin and Stacy Wren to join me, but Dulin quickly dropped out;
he prefers quiet time on his own. When it was down to just Stacy and
me, I invited some of the junior bridge crew to join us; but for
whatever reason, they too dropped out. So it's just me and the
Commander. I sometime wonders how the fact that we spend so much time
alone together appears to the crew, but then I realize that the crew
probably has bigger issues to worry about.
A short musical composition played over the comm. When it
finished, North looked at Wren expectantly.
"A little lighter on the drums," said Wren. "You really like the
drums, don't you?"
"I like military music," said North. "Military music uses drums."
He turned to the console and made some adjustments.
"Is there anything you like that isn't military?" Wren asked.
"I've been in the military for centuries, for most of my adult
life," said the War Admiral. "If I had a life before that, I don't
remember it." He pressed a button. "How about this?"
Wren listened to a clip that lasted a few seconds. "Better," she
said. "I like the long-winded trumpets."
"That's military too," said the War Admiral.
"Yes, I appreciate the military too," said Wren. "But I had a
life before the military. I was a senior administrator on Ulos."
"Yes, I remember reading something like that in your service
record," said the War Admiral. "What persuaded you to go military?"
"I was on the planet during the siege of Ulos," said Wren
quietly.
North nodded. Nothing more needed be said.
The awkward silence was interrupted by a buzz by someone wanting
to enter. "Come," said North.
Captain Dulin entered the room. "He's gone too far this time,
Admiral!"
"Who, Captain?" said the War Admiral.
"Oh," said Dulin, calming down. "I presumed you had seen it. I
was referring to Took's broadcast about maintenance requests on the
civilian ships."
"Yes?"
"He criticized the military, saying that we give maintenance
repairs on civilian ships the lowest priority, sometimes forcing them
to wait weeks or months for repairs."
"And is it true?" said North.
"Of course not," said Dulin. "Admiral, you know as well as I do
that we prioritize based on the seriousness of the repair. Of course,
military repairs are often more vitally needed than civilian ones.
Still, if there were a serious problem with one of our merchant ships,
like a core breach, we'd be on that-"
"Captain, why are you telling me this?" said North.
"Sir?"
"You should be telling Took," said North. "I'm sure he would
interview you for his show."
"Sir, are you seriously suggesting that I dignify his little
broadcast with my presence?" Dulin asked.
"Yes," said the War Admiral. "Have you checked the usage logs,
Captain? They show that an incredible 91% of the fleet open their
weekly e-mail video report from Captain Took. That's an even higher
rate than your fleet bulletin."
"I know, sir," said Dulin. "But the fleet bulletin is important-"
"I'm not blaming you or the bulletin," said the War Admiral.
"What I am saying is that Took provides something vital--entertainment,
discussion, excitement--things in very short supply. And as long as he
doesn't advocate the violent overthrow of the fleet command, I would
encourage him to continue."
"But sir... it's just not military."
"Neither is a quarter of the fleet, Captain," the War Admiral
pointed out. "And we've been together, without leave or relief, for a
long time. Even the strictest military organization can't be so taut
and proper for so long. I trust I've made my point."
"Sir. Yes sir," said Dulin. He turned and left.
Wren says, "His criticisms don't bother you at all?"
"Believe me, Commander, Took is the least of my worries. The
homesteaders bother me ten times as much. They're the ones that we're
going to have more and more trouble with over time," said the War
Admiral. "The longer we go without finding anything, the greater the
pressure they will put on us to settle on a planet and simply give up."
"What will you do when the pressure rises to a boiling point?"
Wren asked.
"The music, Commander, help me work on the music," said North.
"All right," said Wren. "But on one condition. When we're off
duty, like we are now, you can call me by my name."
"Very well, Wren," said North, giving a rare grin. "Now help me
with these violins...."
"It's going to be a masterpiece, Obe!" said Took.
"Go away," said Obe, turning his head to face away.
"Obe, I'm on a mission!" said Took. He shook Obe.
"Go away! I'm trying to sleep!"
"But I need my camera man!"
"I'd rather sleep."
"But Inspir said you should help me."
"Get Inspir to hold your camera for you."
"Very funny. Are you going to help me with my biggest story ever,
or not?"
"What is it?" Obe muttered.
"Corruption of something vital to our very survival."
"Yes?" said Obe, as if he were waiting for something more.
"Our food supply," said Took.
Obe opened his eyes. "All right," said Obe. "But this better be
good."
They took a shuttle from the Glory to the Marist. The Marist was
the largest merchant ship they had taken with them from Orotis, and
like most of the others it had been converted into a farming vessel.
The walls had been broken out between compartments and soil had been
laid on the ground, which now grew a constant rotation of thirty day
potatoes, rice, wheat, and other crops.
"So the thing about it is, these ships have actually been
producing less and less food over time," Took said to Obe, as they
walked across a "field" on deck 4.
"Is that really surprising?" Obe says. "Equipment breaks down,
soil becomes exhausted, that sort of thing."
"No, no, no," said Took. "According to my information, we
actually have more acres under cultivation now and more fresh soil
available now than we did when we started, five years ago. We've run
into a series of habitable planets lately that have helped us restock."
"If that's true... then why are we under increased rationing?"
Obe said.
"Oh, so are we actually interested in my little investigation
now?" said Took.
They reached the office of the administrator, Tarolly Odusk.
They rang, but there was no answer. They rang again, but no one
responded.
"This is a day shift, isn't it?"
"Yep," said a high-pitched voice behind them.
They turned to see a teenager pushing a grav tram full of dirt.
"Hey, do you know where the director is?" Took asked.
"Gee, you look familiar," said the young man, peering at Took.
"You're that guy, that guy on the e-mail program!"
"Yes, why yes I am," said Took. "The name is-"
"Took, of course," said the teenager. "I watch your show all the
time. In fact, I reroute the e-mail so I get it first before everyone
else."
"You do?" said Took. "No offense, but I didn't think you farmer
types knew a lot about computers."
"Oh, computers are just a hobby, they're easy," said the kid
dismissively. "By the way, my name's Billy Holiday. But Bill, most
people call me Bill."
"Good to meet you," said Took, automatically reaching out to
shake the kid's hand. But when he pulled it back he found it grimy with
black dirt.
"Sorry about that," said Bill.
"Listen, kid, can you tell me where we can find the director?"
"No," said Bill. "But if you're looking for him, don't try his
office."
"Why not?"
"He never shows up there, except for inspections."
Took and Obe exchanged glances.
"Any idea where we can find him?"
Bill shrugged. "You might try leaving him a message."
"That's a pity," said Took. "We were hoping to ask him some
questions about farm production." He turned to Obe. "How much food do
you think this ship alone can produce?"
"Assuming an undifferentiated 30 day potato crop with constant
soil, temperature, and fertilizer conditions and four potatoes per
square foot, the approximate yield would be... 19,455 potatoes across
the entire ship," said Bill.
Took looked at Bill. "You're serious?"
"I never joke about potatoes, Mr. Took."
"Bill, what, ah, did you do before you became a farmer?"
"I was the Chief Engineer on the Blue Luna," said Bill.
"You, a kid, a teenager, C.E. on a battleship?" said Obe.
"Well... they called me Chief," said Bill. "At least, that's what
they called me while I fixed their engines."
"You fixed the engines on a pocket battleship?"
"Sure," said Bill. "I saw an easy way they could do an upgrade to
make the ship almost as fast as your standard battlecruisers. At first
no one would listen, but then I showed them the schematics, and they
set me to work on it."
"I knew the engines were upgraded... but how come we never heard
that a kid did it?"
"That was a few years ago," said Bill. "I think they didn't want
word to get out that a kid was fixing the engines of our only
battleship."
"So you did it, alone," said Took.
"Yep."
"Had you ever worked with engines before?"
"Nope," said Bill. "Although I read about them, once."
"Once. Then how did you...."
"It just made sense to me," said Bill.
"And how did you get here?"
"Oh. They got tired of hiding me during every inspection tour.
One time, when I was almost discovered, they decided it was time for me
to move on. So they sent me here."
"And doesn't it bother you, doing farm chores when you could be
working on engines?"
"Not really," said Bill. "It gives me a lot of free time. We only
really have to work three or four hours a day." He noticed their
expressions. "Actually, I don't think I was supposed to say that."
"I think we better have a talk with Director Odusk," said Took.
"But first, I think we have an interesting story to report, don't you?"
"-and so this incredible young man rebuilt the engines on the
Blue Luna, and now his most complicated job is moving piles of dirt
around," said Took, speaking into the camera.
"Well, shucks, it isn't such a big deal," said Bill.
Took had been interviewing Bill for the past few minutes, careful
to avoid questions about the farm management system. He was on the
trail of a much bigger story and wanted to catch certain people off
guard. For now he would have to be content with this "local boy makes
good engines" story.
He interviewed Bill for a few more minutes, and then, in mid-
interview, someone walked in front of the camera.
"Hey," said Took. "We're filming."
"Hi Bob," said Bill. "Captain Took, this is my friend Bob."
"Oh, your friend?" said Took, seeing another angle. "Sure, let's
meet your friend." He pulled Bob back into camera range.
"Whoa, what?"
"What's your name?"
"Bob Jord," said the farmer. "Is that a camera?"
"Yep," said Took. "Did you know all the wonderful things that
your friend Bill can do?"
"Uh... sure," said Jord, looking distracted.
Jord obviously wasn't very enthusiastic, so Took let him go after
another harmless question or two.
When he edited the interview before broadcasting it, he edited
down Jord's appearance to fourteen seconds.
Those fourteen seconds killed Bob Jord. He died, a day later.
Took didn't even find out about it, until the day after it
happened.
"Did you see the fleet bulletin?" said Obe. "The kid we
interviewed is dead."
"The kid?" said Took, looking bewildered for a second. "You mean
Bill?"
"No," said Obe. "The other one. His friend; the one we
interviewed for a few seconds."
Took frowned, taking the pad from Obe's hand. "Let me see that."
But the details were few. It was an accident report; he had been mauled
to death by a malfunctioning thresher.
"This is either got to be the biggest coincidence I've ever seen,
or there's something else going on here," said Took.
In moments they were on a shuttle bound for the Marist. Their
first stop was Billy Holiday. Bill was morosely pulling a dirtsled
when they stopped by.
"I heard what happened to your friend," said Took. "You have my
sympathies."
Bill nodded. "He was such a careful guy, too. I can't imagine how
he got caught by the thresher."
"Neither can I," said Took. "Listen, was Bob working on anything
sensitive?"
"Sensitive?" said Bill.
"Did he happen to stumble across anything, or know something that
would've gotten him in trouble?"
Bill thought for a moment. "No, not that I know of."
"Did Bob have any enemies?"
"No."
"People who disliked him?"
"No."
"Not even a little?"
"Not that I know of," said Bill.
"What are you doing interrogating my worker without permission?"
said a new voice. They looked up to see a man in a finely tailored
civilian suit.
"Just doing my job," said Took.
"Your job?" said the man. Then recognition dawned on his face.
"You're the man from that little show."
"Or, you can call me Captain Took," said Took. "Do you have a
name as well?"
"Odusk," said the man. "Director Odusk. What are you doing on my
ship without permission?"
Took gave Obe a "what's going on here?" glance. "I, ah, didn't
realize we needed permission."
"Well you do," said Odusk. "Our work here is vital and can't be
disrupted." He turned to leave.
"Was Bob Jord disrupting things?" said Took.
Odusk turned back. "Do you have something to say?"
"I'm here to ask some questions about Jord's death, and the
farming ships."
"I don't have to answer any of your questions," said Odusk,
turning away again. He started to walk away while Took looked
helplessly at Obe. Obe gave him a "Well, I don't know what to do
either" look.
"If you don't answer our questions, you'll have to answer the War
Admiral's," Took called after him.
Odusk stopped. "The War Admiral sent you?"
"I, ah, that's right, I'm investigating things for him," said
Took, not very convincingly. Obe tried to look elsewhere.
"That's different then," said Odusk. "Why don't you gentlemen
come to my office?" he said, giving a sly smile.
As they walked Obe muttered, "Took, does the War Admiral know
what you're doing?"
"Relax, buddy," said Took. "What he doesn't know won't concern
him in the slightest."
They were offered seats inside Odusk's spacious and luxurious
office. The walls were decorated with photos and awards, the desk and
countertops of his exotic furniture was lined with exotic sculptures
and awards, and the plush carpeting must have been among the best that
Orotis had to offer.
"Nice awards," Took commented, taking a seat.
"Yes, in recognition for my tirelesss work," said Odusk, typing
some keys on his console.
"What are you doing?" Took asked.
A face appeared on the screen. "Yes?" said a familiar voice.
"Ah, Captain Dulin. I was wondering if you could put me through
to the War Admiral."
"What-why are you contacting the War Admiral?" Took asked.
"Merely to personally assure him of my full cooperation with your
investigation," said Odusk. "I believe in keeping the lines of
communication open, don't you?"
"Ah...." For once, Took was speechless. Odusk could obviously
tell from their manner that the War Admiral hadn't sent them--and now
he was going to make them face the consequences.
"Larolly, what can I do for you?" said a deep familiar voice.
Odusk turned the paper thin screen so that it faced both him and
Took and Obe. "War Admiral, I believe you are acquainted with these
gentlemen."
"Indeed I am."
"They say they have come here on your behalf, to investigate the
tragic accident we had the other day."
"On my behalf?" said the War Admiral, looking and sounding
confused. "Is that what they said?"
"Yes," said Odusk innocently. "Why, is something wrong?"
"No," said the War Admiral, recovering smoothly. "So why are you
calling me?"
Now it was Odusk's turn to be speechless. "I... I assumed...."
"You are to give them your full cooperation," said the War
Admiral. "Was there anything else?"
"No," said Odusk, looking confused.
"Glory out."
"Let's start with some background questions, shall we, Director?"
said Took sweetly.
Odusk recovered quickly. "What-what do you want to know?"
"About Bob Jord. How does a man get killed by a thresher?"
"It was moving, and he walked into the path of it," said Odusk.
"Didn't the operator see him?"
"There was no operator," said Odusk.
"My understanding is that threshers don't move without an
operator sitting onboard."
"Normally, no, but this one did," said Odusk. "We hypothesize
that he left the thresher on idle, and a malfunction caused it to start
moving again."
"A malfunction," said Took. "I'd like one of our techs on the
Glory to take a look at this thresher."
"Oh, that's not possible."
"Why not?" said Took.
"It was dissembled immediately after the accident."
"Why?" said Took sharply.
"No one wanted to work with it," said Odusk. "Some of our workers
are unduly superstitious. And we're always in need of spare parts for
our other threshers. It was for the best."
"I see," said Took. "And what about the scene of the accident?"
"What about it?"
"Were there any tracks, or clues-"
"I have no idea," said Odusk.
"Well, I'd like to see the area," said Took.
"You're welcome to, but it's a waste of time."
"Why?" Took asked.
"The entire part of the level has been reseeded."
"Reseeded? Why?"
"It's what we do after harvesting," said Odusk, starting to run
out of patience.
"All in one day?" said Took.
"Yes," said Odusk. "And now, if there's nothing else-"
"I'm not quite done yet," said Took. "I have a few other
questions to ask you. Why has overall farm production declined, while
acres under cultivation and soil quantity gone up?"
"This has nothing to do with your investigation," Odusk frowned.
"I'll be the judge of that," said Took. "You did promise the War
Admiral your full cooperation, didn't you?"
"We've had problems with soil toxicity," said Odusk, glaring at
him. "That, and equipment breakdowns, have hampered productions."
"I see," said Took.
"Do you have any other pressing questions?"
"No," said Took. "Not right now," he added. Then he got another
thought. "You have monitoring stations in every farm bay, correct?"
Odusk nodded.
"Did anyone see the accident happen?"
"No," said Odusk. "The wheat was too tall for the observer to see
anything."
"I'd like to speak to this observer," said Took.
His name was Walter Teeks, and he was a grizzled farmhand, but
even he had been shaken by what happened.
"I wasn't paying much attention," said Teeks. "We're only
supposed to generally supervise the workers, making sure the crops get
the proper rains and artificial sunlight, not look out for the safety
of the workers."
"When did you first notice something was wrong?"
"I heard a loud crash; when I went to investigate, I found that
the thresher had crashed against the wall; and Jord's body was mangled
inside of it."
"I see," said Took. He looked at the observation post monitors.
"What are these hooked up to?"
"Surveillance. Mounted all around the deck."
"Did any of these show the accident?"
"I don't know," said Teeks blankly.
"You don't know?"
"I never thought to look," said Teeks. "Listen, I saw Jord's body
crumpled into pieces. I wasn't anxious to relive the experience on the
monitors."
"Where can I get a copy of the tape for the relevant period?"
"I can punch it up," said Teeks. He peered out of the observation
post. "Camera seven should have given a mostly unobstructed view." He
typed a few keys on the keyboard. Then he frowned.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't retrieve the tapes for that day."
"What do you mean?"
"They're wiped; or gone; or never inputted into the system. I
can't really tell which."
"There's no log entry on it?"
"Apparently not; it's as if they were never filed. But they
always are, automatically. Jerensky set up the system himself."
"Jerensky?"
"Our equipment tech."
Suddenly there was something that sounded like a crash below, and
they heard someone yell, "Whoa!"
They ran down to see what was happening. A worker was trying to
restart a mulcher.
"It's... it's stuck," he said.
"Try opening it up," Teeks suggested.
The worker flipped open the side, where they saw the mangled body
of a fleet technician.
"Jerensky," Teeks whispered.
"I think we have something a bit more substantial than your
typical "thresher bites farmer" story," said Took.
On the shuttleflight back to the Glory, Took said, "Jord and
Jerensky were murdered."
"Yes," said Obe.
"But why?"
"Maybe they had an enemy."
"Or maybe they discovered something they weren't supposed to,"
said Took.
"What?" said Obe.
"I don't know," said Took.
They were on final approach when the got a comm from Commander
Wren. "Are you gentlemen returning?"
"On final approach," said Took.
"Good," said Wren. "The War Admiral would appreciate the pleasure
of your company, at your earliest convenience."
"-It didn't start out that way, War Admiral," said Took. "I just
meant to say that we were investigating."
The War Admiral looked sternly at them.
"And then your name kind of slipped out."
The War Admiral continued to stare.
"I mean, something's up, right? We've definitely got one murder
on our hands, and maybe more. My investigation has revealed that much,
hasn't it?"
The War Admiral walked close to Took.
Took gulped.
"Next time, Took, before you use my name, ask me first," he said.
Took nodded.
"Now," said the War Admiral, speaking completely normally, "I do
believe you have stumbled onto something important, which is why I've
let you proceed. Although sometimes your untamed approach has a
tendency to backfire, sometimes you pick up on things the rest of us
don't. What do you have to report so far?"
Took was busy trying to decode the back-handed compliment he had
just received. He recovered quickly, saying, "Not sure, sir. We need to
investigate more. Something is definitely going on there."
"Proceed," said the War Admiral. "And feel free to use my name if
it will help your investigation further."
"Thanks!" Then, suddenly unsure if the War Admiral was being
serious or sarcastic, he gulped.
"Dismissed," said the War Admiral.
Took and Obe filed out.
Captain Dulin stepped out of the background, while the War
Admiral chuckled softly.
"I wouldn't have found it so amusing, sir," said Dulin.
The War Admiral stopped laughing. "But he is on to something.
I've been studying the reports. Farm production has been slowly
declining."
"Odusk has explained-"
"Yes, and we've been very quick to accept his explanations," said
the War Admiral. "I'm a soldier, Captain, not an administrator; if I
were a good administrator I would have noticed and looked into this
problem months ago. But administration was never my specialty...." He
looked as if he were remembering something, or someone.
"You're thinking of Quick," said Dulin.
"He was one of the best administrators there ever was, as well as
the bulwark of the Alliance. He ran the Directorate more efficiently
than its ever been run, before or since."
"It's a pity he died in that freak accident," said Dulin. "He
could have been very helpful in our war against the Insects."
"Yes, a pity," said the War Admiral.
"So what do we have?" said Obe. Took was in his bunk, reading
something.
"I don't know," said Took. "I can't make heads or tails of these
farm output statistics," he said, holding up a pad. "For all I know,
Odusk could be telling the truth."
"Why are you focusing so much on farm output?" said Obe. "What
does that have to do with the murders?"
"I've heard rumors of surplus food being sold throughout the
fleet, on a kind of black market," said Took. "I've never been able to
locate this black market, if it really exists, but the thought occurs
to me that if someone's been skimming food off the top, and Jord found
out about it--"
"That would make him a liability," said Obe. "But it doesn't make
sense. Jord was just a farmhand. Jerensky, who handled the security and
surveillance system, was a key man. But I think Jerensky was killed
only to cover up whatever really happened to Jord."
"Well, I know one thing," said Took. "I won't get the answer
here, wrestling with these figures." Suddenly a thoughtful look crossed
his face. "But I do know someone who is very good with figures."
"I really shouldn't be talking to you, Mr. Took, I'm supposed to
be working," said Bill Holiday, rapidly raking the soil.
"I thought you only worked three hours a day," said Took.
"Well, this is one of them," said Bill.
He grabbed Bill by the shoulders. "Bill! Bill, two people have
been murdered. More could be in danger. We need to find out who's
behind this."
"What do you want of me?" Bill said.
Took showed him his pad. "I need you to help me make sense of
these figures. If this ship really is producing eight tons of harvest
every month-"
"Oh, that's not right," said Bill. "It's almost double that."
"Double?" said Took. "How do you know?"
"Easy," said Bill. "Simply count the number of outbound
transports filled with produce that leave the ship every week. There
are 14 of them. If you assume a capacity of--" He ran through a set of
numbers too quickly for Took to follow.
Took wasn't listening especially hard, he was getting a remote
link to the fleet scheduler. Bill was right; there were an average of
14 transports leaving the Marist every week. Why so many transports if
the crop yield was so low? Took brought up another manifest, showing
food distribution schedules; only eight of the fourteen transports
stopped at ships where food was scheduled to be delivered. Where were
the other six transports going?
"Hey kid, would you like a free shuttle ride?" said Took.
They hung in space a short distance behind the Marist. The
transport they were waiting for finally launched.
The transport leisurely took its time setting a course, and Took
waited until it's course was set and let it travel some distance before
setting a course to follow.
"Got an exit vector, Obe?" said Took.
"Could be one of three ships," said Obe, checking the scanners.
"Wait, no, it's probably the fast attack destroyer Yorkshire."
"Then that's where we're going." said Took. He pressed a comm.
"Yorkshire control, this is Glory shuttle eight, requesting landing
clearance."
"This is Yorkshire control," came a military voice. "Purpose of
visit?"
"Ah, engineering inspection tour," said Took. "Regulations."
"Glory Eight, you're cleared for landing in the bay."
They landed only a few minutes behind the transport. When they
exited, Obe whispered, "Look."
Sealed crates were being unloaded from the transport. Workmen
started to move them.
"Let's go," said Took, eager to follow.
"In our fighter pilot uniforms?" said Obe. "Don't you think that
will be a bit conspicuous?"
"He's right, Mr. Took," said Bill.
"Thanks for the advice, kid," said Took. "All right."
They went the opposite direction, into a changing room just off
the landing bay. They borrowed two worker uniforms and changed into
them.
No one gave them a second glance as they followed the workers
carrying the crates down below. When they got to the lower decks, they
were in for a shock.
In one of the corridors that supposedly housed the ship's
munitions, the crates of food were being stacked one on top of the
other! One of the Yorkshire's officers was directing the workmen, while
another was haggling with the foreman.
"I'd better hang back," said Bill. "That's one of my bosses,
he'll recognize me."
Took nodded, and lifted one of the crates to give him an excuse
to walk by the officer who was talking to the foreman.
"-All right," said the officer. "10% more. But you can't keep
raising your prices forever."
"You know as well as I do that you can make 50% above that on the
resale market," said the foreman, a heavy set balding man. "Shall we
transfer the credits now?"
Took heard all that he needed to. When they linked up with Bill,
who was waiting around the bend in the corridor, he only needed to ask
one question: "What is the name of that foreman?"
"Roberto Virtuoso," said Bill. "Is he going to get in trouble?"
"You might say that," said Took. He turned to Obe. "Ready?"
"I think so," said Obe.
"Let's get back to the Glory and dig up what we can on this
Virtuoso from the fleet memory banks," said Took. "I'm sure he's not
the man at the top."
"Odusk?"
"He's suspect number one," said Took.
They boarded the shuttle and lifted off without incident. "What
amazes me is how openly they did it," said Obe. "I wonder how far this
web of corruption extends?"
"I don't know," said Took. "If they're so relaxed about it, what
that tells me is that they've let down their guard because they've been
doing this for so long that they don't expect to be caught."
Suddenly, a red light lit up on his panel, and alarms sounded.
"What's wrong?" said Obe.
"The engines are overheating," said Took.
"Shut them down!" said Obe.
"I can't!" said Took, desperately pressing buttons. The whine of
the engines grew louder. "They're going to blow if we can't shut them
down."
"Let me have a look, Mr. Took!" said Bill.
Took looked at Obe, who shrugged. "Go ahead, kid!" said Took.
Bill immediately took over the console, moving his hands almost
faster than he could see.
The whine of the engines grew into a roar.
"That's not fair," said Bill. "They've deactivated the engine
controls." He pulled up a series of computer codes on the monitor,
started working furiously.
"Ah... kid... I'm not sure we have time for that," said Took,
trying his best to be heard over the roar.
"We're at 105% maximum, we're going to blow at any second!"
"Hm, yeah," said Bill.
The roar grew so loud that they had to cover their ears. But the
kid kept working, hands frantically moving, until he suddenly finished
what he was doing, and pressed one of the buttons that Took had pressed
before. The whine of the engines died down.
"What did you do?" said Took.
"It was a soft-disconnect--in the software only," said Bill.
"Sorry, I should've realized that sooner."
"It's ok, kid," said Took weakly.
Bill managed to restore the controls and assured them it was safe
to return to the Glory. While he was doing so he pulled up a comm log.
"Here it is," said Bill.
"Here what is?" Took asked.
"We received an anonymous signal that triggered the engine
overload," said Bill. "It was set up to be triggered remotely."
"Where did the signal come from?" Took asked.
"The Marist," said Bill.
"Clever," said Obe. "They blow us up not when we're leaving the
Marist, but the Yorkshire, to divert attention away from them."
"Yeah, clever," said Took, appearing to agree, but not sounding
fully convinced. An explosion now would've drawn attention to the
Yorkshire, something the black marketeers shouldn't be interested in
doing.
"An interesting report," said the War Admiral. "So now you're
perceived as the threat."
"Yes, sir," said Took.
"So you're convinced that Odusk has been producing extra food,
falsifying records, and selling this food on the black market for his
own profit?"
"Yes sir."
"And this has been a widespread practice, going on for years
without our noticing?"
"Yes... yes sir," said Took.
"Where's the evidence and exactly who is involved, Captain?"
"I'm close to getting the evidence we need, sir," said Took.
"Very good. Keep me posted with regular reports," said the War
Admiral. Then, as an afterthought, he said, "Why don't you take David
along with you, while you wrap up your investigation?"
"Did the War Admiral order me to accompany you?" the Ken Pilot
asked.
"Not exactly an order... well, maybe it was. It was a suggestion,
but from the War Admiral, you know?" said Took.
The Ken Pilot gave him a dead look. He obviously wasn't eager for
this assignment.
"We'll be docking with the Marist in five minutes," said Obe. "Do
you have the clearance codes?"
"Yep," said Took. "And we arranged for our good friend Mr.
Virtuoso to be called off-ship for the next few hours."
After they landed they found Bill purposefully loitering in the
corridor near Virtuoso's quarters. He nodded as they approached.
"Ready?" said Took.
Bill nodded.
Took used his access codes to open the door to Virtuoso's
quarters. They entered, completely ignoring the contents of his
quarters--except for the computer. Bill took a seat, started typing
rapidly. "Hm, encrypted."
"Can you handle it?" Took asked.
"Computers are only my hobby," said the kid, typing rapidly.
"Do you need help? We could call in a specialist-"
"I said they were only a hobby. That's because they're so easy,"
said Bill scornfully.
"Oh," said Took.
"Here you are," said Bill, slowing down the pace of his mad
typing. Files started appearing on the screen.
"Names... contacts... dollar amounts... production figures... it
does look complete," said Took. "Can you do a search for Bob Jord?"
"Accessing," said Bill, typing rapidly.
In a few seconds part of a file came up. It was an internal log.
It read, it part "Jord has caught onto us. He saw one of the transports
being loaded and started asking too many questions. I think he has
become a liability."
"Well, that seems pretty clear," said Obe.
"Yes," said Took frowning. "It does."
"I'll call Captain Dulin," said Obe. "He'll have security brought
here from the Glory."
They were actually able to locate nearly 200 conspirators; a
surprisingly large number, given how secret the conspiracy had been,
but not so surprising, given how widespread the black market had grown.
Odusk had indeed been skimming farm produce and reselling it privately
across the fleet to fleet officers and sailors, who in turn resold it
to others. At first he had skimmed only 5% of the produce, then 10%,
and then more and more, until he expanded production as much as he
could and was skimming nearly 40% of the agricultural produce. Only a
small core of the farm workers received the vast majority of the
profits from the skimming operation; the rest of the farmers involved
simply got paid to move shipments, or to look the other way. And many
farmers, like Bill, simply didn't know what was going on.
The War Admiral dealt with the profiteers sternly, sentencing the
ringleaders to confinement in the brig for years; he reassigned others
to the maintenance section of the civilian merchant ships, tending the
dirtiest jobs imaginable; and a few he left on probation. He could
hardly have put the entire farming staff in confinement; manpower was
too sorely needed.
A stickier matter concerned what to do with the fleet officers
who had been involved in the trade. Again, a handful, seven officers
and a number of crewmen, had been involved in actively making a profit.
These were court martialed and sentenced to varying terms in
confinement. But then there were forty seven other officers and men who
were more peripherally involved, whose fate was not so easy to
determine. The fourteen officers in the group were demoted or
reprimanded, and reassigned; and many of the crewers were also
reprimanded and reassigned.
"I'm really surprised how widespread it was," said North, shaking
his head. He was talking to Dulin and Wren in private. "They made us
look like fools."
"We're military men, not administrators," said Dulin tersely.
"That's why we put Odusk in charge in the first place, because he had a
background in administration."
"Well, now we'll need to find someone else," said the War
Admiral. "One minor mystery remains, though."
"Sir?"
"No one ever admitted to killing Jord and Jerensky."
"Do you think anyone would want to admit to capital murder?"
"No," said North. "But a number of conspirators have confessed
and testified against their fellow conspirators, in return for more
lenient sentences. I would've thought that someone would have pointed
us to the guilty party. Nor have we identified the person responsible
for the attempt on Captain Took's life."
"It's regrettable," said Dulin. "Either Odusk ordered it, or one
of his chief underlings like Virtuoso did. In fact, Virtuoso implied in
his personal files that he got rid of Jord."
"Implied, but didn't admit," said North. "No, I get the
impression that there's still some unfinished business here."
"It would be nice to know who the killer is," said Dulin. "But
he's almost certainly in confinement; he won't be harming anyone else
for some time to come."
The War Admiral said nothing.
The War Admiral wasn't the only one with doubts. Took reflected on some
of his own as he waited for the prisoner to be brought from his holding
cell in the Glory. In a few moments he faced the welcoming glare of ex-
director Odusk.
"You! Have you come to gloat?" said Odusk caustically.
"No," said Took. "I want to know why you killed Jord, and why you
tried to kill me."
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Odusk.
"You rigged my shuttle's engines to overload, remember?"
"I did no such thing," said Odusk. "I admit to using my position
to my advantage; there's no sense in denying it, given the evidence you
amassed. But I didn't kill anyone."
"Then one of your underlings did."
"I never ordered any such thing."
"What if they did it without telling you?
Odusk snorted. "Killed someone? Without clearing it with me? I
hope you're a better pilot than you are an investigator."
"Why?"
"Don't you find it convenient that all the details of my guilt
were conveniently stored on Virtuoso's database, just waiting to be
cracked?"
"Well...."
"Guess what--he never had access to that information."
"You're saying it was fabricated?"
"No, it was real enough--stolen from my database," said Odusk.
"And put on Virtuoso's. Someone was helping you get to us."
"Who?"
"The killer, probably," said Odusk. "Once you figured out what
else we were doing, it wouldn't take much imagination to blame us for
the murders."
"That's an interesting theory," said Took. "But how do I know
that you're just not trying to avoid the blame for committing the
murders? After all, you were never charged with the murders, and the
case is still open; you have no incentive to admit it. And we still
practice capital punishment in the military," Took added grimly.
"Why would I want to kill Jord?" said Odusk.
"To silence him when he discovered-"
"Jord WORKED for me," said Odusk.
"What?"
"He was on my payroll, he knew what was going on all along!" said
Odusk.
"Then why wasn't his name listed in the records-"
"It was listed in my records," said Odusk. "But I'll bet that his
name disappeared from the list before you got to it."
Took leaned back in his chair, stunned. Jord had been working for
Odusk? If that could be proved, then there definitely was another
player involved. But who could it be? Someone who had the ability to
kill. And someone who was exceptionally good with computers.
Took was once again on the Marist, where the hustle and bustle of
the new work teams coming aboard were causing a babble of confusion and
excitement. He had just finished taping the latest installment of his
muckraking special, but he wasn't quite ready to move on to other
matters, not yet.
He made his way to one of the observation posts, where Bill was
filling in for one of the observers who had been arrested.
"Hey Mr. Took!" said Bill.
"Hey Bill," said Took dully. "I see you've gotten a promotion."
"Well, gee, it may only be temporary," said Bill.
"You know, Bill, there's something that's been bothering me,"
said Took. "I just spoke with Mr. Odusk earlier today."
"Gee, how's he doing?"
"He says he's pleasantly surprised by his new accommodations, and
is actively searching for a good interior decorator," said Took. "But
that's getting off-topic. He also told me that Jord was on his payroll,
that he knew all about the black market operations."
"Gee, really?"
"Gee, really," said Took. "I did a little digging, and found out
that Jord had a secret account, that was keyed to a special number chip
found in his quarters."
"Interesting--I guess," said Bill.
"Interesting, because if he was working for Odusk, why would he
be killed?"
"Beats me," Bill shrugged.
"And why didn't we find his name in Virtuoso's records, the
records that you, Bill, retrieved for us?"
"Beats me," said Bill, shrugging his bony shoulders.
"And why is it a fellow as smart as you didn't realize that there
was black market activity going on around here?"
"Oh, I never pay attention to such things," Bill assured Took.
"If it doesn't involve science, or numbers, I'm really not interested."
Then, a thought occurred to him, "Gee, you don't think I killed Bob,
did you?"
"Well, now that you mention it.... yes" said Took. He stood
ready, watching Bill closely. Would he bolt? Would he try to draw a
hidden weapon?
But Bill just shook his head. "You got me all wrong, Mr. Took.
Why would I want to kill Bob? He was my friend."
"I don't know," said Took. "But we found those records a little
too easily, and you had the opportunity. You worked here, where he
died, and you could easily have tampered with the files before we
recovered them."
"It sounds like a lot of guesswork to me," said Bill. "But gee,
you seemed pretty worked up about it. Why don't you give me a few
minutes to look into it?" He turned to his keyboard, started typing.
"What are you doing?" said Took, his hand close to his holstered
blaster.
"Going into the fleet's library system. Do you have access codes
for that?"
"Uh..." said Took, debating whether he should give the ones that
Captain Dulin had provided.
Bill's hands moved furiously over the keyboard. "Never mind," he
said, as the words "Access granted" appeared on the screen.
"You can break into our system that easily?"
"Sure," said Bill. "It's really no effort at all. Hang on, give
me a moment or two." He started digging into the records, and pulled up
the file on Bob Jord.
"Gee, that's odd," said Bill.
"What?" said Took, not noticing anything.
"It says here that Bob joined the fleet at Orotis," said Bill.
"So he did," said Took.
"And this file is dated five years ago, when the fleet was at
Orotis."
"So it was," said Took.
"So why did the internal directory listing-" and Bill pointed to
a corner of the screen, "-say that this listing was created four years
ago, a year after Bob came aboard?"
"I... I don't know," said Took.
"Give me a minute, let me dig some more," said Bill. "This kind
of investigating is fun, isn't it?"
"Keep digging, Bill."
Bill kept typing. "It's pretty easy now, actually. All I have to
do is check the directory for a file that was purged on the same day
this one was created, and reactivate it."
"Wouldn't a previous file have been deleted?"
Bill gave Took a pitying look. "There's no such thing as a delete
when it comes to computers, Mr. Took." He typed away madly. "Here we
go."
Took gave a low whistle when he saw what appeared on the screen
next.
"His real name was Bob Rigil," said Took. "At least, that's the
name that he boarded the ship with on Orotis."
"And then a year later he got into the ship's database and
created a different identity?" said the War Admiral.
"Yes," said Took. "He started off as Bob Rigil, a cargo hand on
the merchant ship Crawler, and then soon after he was Bob Jord,
farmhand on the Marist."
"Why would he need an alias here, in the fleet?"
"Unknown," said Took. "But another thing we confirmed was that he
did receive payments from Odusk's organization. It seems unlikely that
his own organization had him killed."
"Curiouser and curiouser," said the War Admiral. "A farm hand
tries to cover up a past as a cargo hand. And we have a murder without
a motive. This Bob Rigil wasn't wanted by fleet security for any
crimes, was he?"
"No," said Took.
"Hm," said the War Admiral. "Keep digging, Captain."
"Why would someone want to kill a farmhand?" Took muttered, lying
in his bunk.
"Maybe they didn't like his tomatoes," said Obe, lying in the
bunk above him.
"He switched names, jobs, and ships. He was obviously hiding from
something," said Took.
"Well, if he was hiding from something, or someone, it wasn't a
bright idea for him to appear on your vidcast," said Obe.
"Yeah... that's it!" said Took excitedly.
"What's it?" said Obe.
"That's why he was killed!"
"What?"
"Whoever was after him saw him on the vidcast, recognized him,
and killed him," said Took. "Remember how reluctant he was to appear on
camera?"
"Yes," said Obe. "Yes, now that you mention it, I do."
"But that gets us back to the original question," said Took. "Why
would anyone want to kill him?"
"Maybe he irritated someone in the fleet," said Obe.
"Or something he irritated someone before he got here," said
Took. He sat up, moved to the terminal on the nearby desk, and
activated the voice interface.
"Computer, activate voice interface, voice authorization, Took,
Idaho J, Command Captain."
"Activated," said the soft voice.
"Access Orotis database."
"Access was limited to brief linkup accomplished during our orbit
in the Orotis system."
"Did access include news retrieval?"
"Affirmative."
"Search parameters, Bob Jord or Bob Rigil."
"Searching." Then, a few seconds later. "Found. One reference,
relating to the criminal known as "The Modem"."
Took gave Obe a look. Jackpot!
"Provide text download of reference," said Took, staring at the
screen.
"-A criminal known as "The Modem", War Admiral," said Took. "Not
much was known about him. He was a computer expert who committed a
series of crimes on Orotis. His specialty was stealing funds
electronically, or stealing information and selling it to the highest
bidder." Took paused. "He also was wanted for murder."
"Where does the murdered farmhand come into this?" said the War
Admiral.
"Rigil was a low-level worker at a bank, working late one night
when he stumbled on "The Modem" working on a secured terminal in
someone else's executive office. Rigil was smart enough to get out of
there and call security. But by the time security got there, The Modem
was gone." Took paused. "This made the news about two days before we
arrived, which is why we picked it up when we linked into the planetary
net. Rigil provided a general description of what The Modem looked
like, but only Rigil could really identify this guy. Rigil became an
instant celebrity, and put under close police guard."
"And then we arrived," said the War Admiral.
"Both of them must have gotten aboard one of the merchant ships
we took on," said Took. "I'm guessing that about a year after we left
Orotis, their paths must have crossed. Only Rigil spotted The Modem
without getting spotted himself. That's when he changed his name and
purged his identity. Then he spent the next four years laying low...
until I captured him on video," said Took grimly.
"You couldn't have known," said the War Admiral. "Do we have any
idea who this "Modem" is or even what he looks like?"
"No," said Took. "But we do know that he was on the Marist when
Jord, or Rigil, was killed, and on the Marist again to launch the
signal to my shuttle. If he's not a crewmember, he's someone who's been
there several times, and there should be records in the transit log."
"And what is the result of your search so far?"
"It's unlikely that this Modem is a current member of the Marist
crew; if the Modem had been a member of the crew, he would have spotted
and killed Rigil long before now. Transit records show nineteen
possibles who were visiting the Marist at the time that Rigil was
killed, and eight possibles who were there when the signal was sent to
my shuttle."
"And the overlap, people who were there during both times?"
"None," said Took. "He's gotten to the transit logs, obviously."
"I'll assign some computer specialists to assist in the search,"
said the War Admiral.
"I already have Bill looking into things," said Took.
"Yes, that's nice," said the War Admiral. "But it would also be
nice to have fleet officers responsible for internal security looking
into this too."
"Oh. Oh. I see. Ok," said Took reluctantly.
He returned to his quarters, and activated his comm. "Bill, have
you got anything yet?"
"No," said Bill. "He's covered his tracks pretty thoroughly. Much
more professional than Bob did, by the way. I'm still searching the
database though. I'm very impressed by your professional ratings; did
you know you have several commendations from the War Admiral in your
record?"
"Bill, you're supposed to be searching for the killer!" Took
said.
"Sorry. I got distracted for a minute."
"Hacking into the Glory's personnel database qualifies as a
minute's distraction?"
"Sure," said Bill. "I'll keep looking."
"You do that," said Took, frowning. The Modem would have been
sure to cover his tracks thoroughly, probably erasing all records of
his boarding on Orotis, and anything else that could be used to trace
his identity.
But what if a record existed that The Modem didn't realize
existed, or knew existed but didn't know the importance of erasing?
"Bill, you still there?" said Took, unsure of how long he had
been lost in thought.
"Yeah."
"Do a search of the Crawler."
"The Crawler?"
"Personnel transfers and visits to the ship, about the same time
that Rigil changed identities."
"I'll dig into it, but it may take a little while."
"I'm going to bed," said Took. "Call me when you have something."
He dropped off to sleep, and was only awakened by the persistent
beeping of his terminal several hours later.
"What is it?" he said, a bit sleepy. He flicked on his terminal.
There was a priority e-mail, waiting from Bill.
"Took, come quickly, I've found something," Took slowly read.
"But we have to meet in private." Attached was the location of a
storeroom on the lower decks of the Marist. Well, Bill must really have
found something important. But why didn't he simply call over the comm?
Took yawned, kicked Obe's bunk.
"Leave me alone," said Obe, not opening his eyes.
"I think we're getting to the bottom of things," said Took. "Obe,
don't you want to be there to see when I break this story wide open?"
When the shuttle docked with the Marist, they headed off for the
location that Bill had specified.
"I still don't know why he didn't just tell you what he found
over the comm," said Obe.
"Maybe he thought our comm lines were being tapped," said Took.
They walked through the empty corridors of the Marist; the ship
was in "night" phase, and only a skeleton staff was on the upper decks,
monitoring the farms and life support.
"17-B, here we are," said Took, fingering the contact which
opened the door. The inside was dim, lit only by a light source on the
other end of the room.
"Bill?" he said, cautiously entering the room, followed by Obe.
They were in a storeroom of some sort; they made their way past
the crates to the lightsource, and, around a corner, found Bill.
All tied up to a chair and gagged.
"Uh-oh," said Took.
"Don't move," said a voice behind them.
"Definitely uh-oh," said Took. Then, "I know you said you didn't
want us to move, but can we get a variance to turn around?"
"Slowly," said the voice.
They turned to find themselves facing a tall, thin man with brown
hair, pointing a blaster at both of them.
"The Modem, I presume?" said Took.
The man nodded.
"You wouldn't mind filling in a few gaps; before you kill us, I
mean," said Took.
The Modem stared at them, considering. "As long as it doesn't
take long," said the Modem.
"You killed Rigil when you spotted him on the vid."
"Yes," said The Modem. "You can't imagine how surprised I was to
see him." And then, in a darker tone. "But, then, you can't imagine how
surprised he was to see me."
Took didn't pursue that line of questioning, remembering the
grisly description of the thresher. "And you killed Jerensky because he
had the security video of your attack on Rigil."
"Yes."
"And you tried to pin the blame on Odusk."
The Modem nodded.
"And the attempt on our lives?
"Yes to that too," said the Modem, who seemed mildly pleased to
finally be able to recount his feats. "At first, I thought killing you
would be simpler. But you didn't cooperate and die quickly."
"Sorry," said Took.
"I was of course quite aware of the black market organization,
and it occurred to me that, if logically presented, you might accept
them as the culprits."
"Only I didn't."
"No, you didn't," said the Modem. "And then I detected this young
man searching in areas of the database where he shouldn't have been."
"And that set off an alarm," said Took.
"And that set off an alarm," The Modem agreed. "I secured this
young man, and sent a message to secure you."
"And now... after having confessed, you're ready to give yourself
up?"
The Modem laughed. "Not quite. This young man has one last
service to perform. He's going to go into the database to help me
remove any possible reference to me or my activities."
"And then?"
"And then... well, you have seen my face," said The Modem. "It's
not enough to get rid of you, Captain. You're too persistent, with too
much free time on your hands."
"What if I promised to take up a new hobby?"
"It's too late for that, Captain," said The Modem.
"Bill will never cooperate."
"Mmm Mmm," said Bill, through his gag.
"Oh, he'll cooperate," said The Modem, touching an electroblade
that was hanging from his belt.
"I guess I was pretty gullible to fall into your trap and be
lured here by a simple e-mail message," said Took, speaking louder than
usual, and very artificial and mechanical like.
"Yes, I guess you were," said the Modem.
At that minute they heard a swishing, like the door of the
compartment opening, and then closing. But from their positions behind
the crates they couldn't see who it was.
The Modem put his finger to his lips for them to keep quiet, and
raised his blaster menacingly. If they spoke or made any noise, he
would shoot.
They heard the quiet sounds of a methodical footstep. One, then
another, then another. Getting closer to them.
Took looked at Obe. Obe looked at Took. Bill looked bewildered.
The footsteps came closer. And then, around the corner, they saw-
-
Ken Pilot, 04.
"Don't move," said the Modem, gripping his weapon tightly. He was
fortunate enough to have Took, Obe, and the Ken Pilot bunched together
in the same field of fire.
"Couldn't you have come from behind him?" Took sighed.
"He knew I was coming when the door opened," said the Ken Pilot.
"You could at least have had your weapon drawn," said Took.
"Mmmm Mmmm," Bill added.
"An unexpected guest," said The Modem, his eyes narrowing.
"He was listening to my open comm the whole time," said Took.
"The War Admiral appointed the Ken Pilot as my bodyguard for the
duration of this investigation. He flew here with us on the shuttle.
Only he was supposed to come in and catch The Modem unaware," he said,
glaring at the Ken Pilot. "With a DRAWN weapon."
"There's no way I can silence an active door," said the Ken
Pilot.
"You could at least have had your weapon drawn," said Took.
"It wasn't necessary," said the Ken Pilot.
"You're the Graftonite," said The Modem.
"Yes," said the Ken Pilot. "But I've been off-planet for a long
time. My reflexes have slowed. They might even be as slow as yours, if
you're quick enough."
"K, unless you're going to draw and shoot him first while he's
got a gun pointed at you, please don't provoke him," said Took.
"All right!" said The Modem. "Turn around, all of you! Slowly!
Facing away from me."
Took and Obe complied, but the Ken Pilot just stood there, as if
he were calculating something.
"Unless you think you're faster than a half depressed trigger
finger, you'd better comply," said The Modem, his eyes glinting and
narrowing.
The Ken Pilot considered a second more, and then turned away like
the others.
"Now, I want each of you to remove your weapon from its holster,
and then let it drop to the ground. And when you move, I want you to do
it slowly! Graftonite, you go first."
"That's pretty smart," said the Ken Pilot. "After all, there's no
way I can draw and fire on you if I'm not even looking at you, is
there?" He said it lazily, as if he were bored, or mildly amused.
"Less talk, more action!" screamed The Modem. "You could be
useful as hostages for Bill's good behavior, but if it takes too much
effort, I may just change my mind and shoot you now."
"All right," said the Ken Pilot mildly. Still facing away from
The Modem, his hand slowly went to his blaster, and rested on its butt.
"Pull it out slowly, and drop it!"
The Ken Pilot slowly pulled the blaster out of its holster. Then,
in a movement almost too quick to see, he flicked the gun backwards and
pulled the trigger.
They turned to see The Modem screaming, clutching the charred
remains of his gun hand as he twisted to the ground, sobbing.
Took and Obe quickly drew their guns.
"You couldn't even see him and you were able to shoot him that
precisely?" said Took. "Do you have one of those electronic humming
sensors build into your gunbelt?"
"It wasn't so difficult," said the Ken Pilot. "After all, I saw
exactly where he was before I turned around."
"Excellent work, Command Captain," said the War Admiral. "You
know, I've always felt that your vidcasts were important to keeping the
fleet's morale up. But you did two useful tasks this week, and you've
done a really fine job."
"Thanks, War Admiral," Took said. "I just wished we could have
located The Modem before we broadcast that vid we did with Rigil."
"You had no way of knowing what would happen," said the War
Admiral. "It was random chance. I don't doubt that this Modem is
responsible for a number of unsolved crimes in the fleet. But now, like
Odusk, he'll never be able to harm anyone again."
"Will he get the death penalty?"
"Perhaps," said the War Admiral. "The only other alternatives are
banishment, or permanent confinement. I'll be holding the trial next
week--one of my duties I'm less fond of," said the War Admiral grimly.
"Based on his confession to you, his guilt is clear. He could face life
confinement, or banishment, or capital punishment. We'll see." He
turned away. "Was there anything else?
"Hm," said Took. "Just one more thing, War Admiral. Are there any
openings in engineering for a civilian engineer?"
"We don't take civilians on the Glory for essential ship's
functions, Iday," said the War Admiral. "You should know that."
"Well, there's a special case I think you should know about, in
case you're of a mind to make an exception....."
Chaper 6: Gifts and Traps
From the Log of War Admiral Norman North, 7 year after Vitalics:
As our supplies continue to dwindle, so does fleet morale. We've
managed to be reasonably self-sustaining with our food and air supplies
(although we've been on short rations at times too). Fuel or power
hasn't been an acute problem, since we've mounted hydrogen collectors
on several of the ships, . The problem is dedicated equipment--
engineering components for the ships of the fleet, especially the
Wildcats. It's gotten so bad that two full squadrons have been
deactivated, as their ships have been cannibalized for spare parts to
keep the other squadrons running. Needless to say, this hasn't done
much for the morale of the Wildcat pilots.
And they're not the only ones. More and more, I hear voices of
dissent, from those who have lost faith in our quest. They say we
should stop our fruitless search for Monumental technology, and find a
habitable planet to settle on. They ignore the fact that the Insects
will hunt us wherever we go, preferring to believe that it's only the
fleet they're after. This "homesteader" faction has been around for
some time, but their voices have grown stronger, especially when we
approach a habitable planet, as our scouts are doing now. I am
concerned that sooner or later this split will become more than words
and manifest itself in action, or even mutiny. It might be easier to
let those who want to settle to do just that.
But those who left would be signing their own death warrants. I
won't allow that to happen because of my inaction. Not again.
"There, I picked it up on my scanner!" said Took, checking the
readout on his 150-B.
"Where?" said Obe.
"Relaying the coordinates now," said Took. He pressed a button.
"Got it?"
"Yeah," said Obe. "Let's check it out."
They angled down into the atmosphere.
"Isn't it nice that these monuments always seem to be on
habitable worlds?" said Took. "Clear, fresh air, mountains, trees,
fields...."
"Yeah, but that really stokes the homesteader movement," said
Obe.
"Those guys are idiots," said Took dismissively. "I mean, it's
nice to get some fresh air, but who wants to spend the rest of their
lives being a farmer?"
"I'm getting a fix," said Obe. "It's in that forest, down there."
"In the forest?" Took looked down at the countryside.
"I don't see any good place to land," said Obe.
"What about there," said Took.
"Where?"
"Two o'clock."
"You couldn't land a microchip there," said Obe. "We'll have to
let the marines make first contact on this one." Transports and
shuttles, with their vertical landing ability, could land in tighter
spaces than starfighters.
"They get all the fun!" said Took. He activated the fleet com.
"Glory, this is Took; how are you?"
Another pair of fighters, led by Captain Ben Hunter of Wildcat-B
and wingman Jane Tiegs, were simultaneously on long distance patrol in
a completely different direction.
"Just empty space out here," said Tiegs. "The nearest solar
system is several light years away."
"We've still got to be on watch," said Hunter. "You never know
what you'll find."
Hunter was entirely correct. Suddenly, a blip appeared on their
scanners.
"Where did that come from?" said Tiegs, wondering why it didn't
show up before.
"It's very small," said Hunter, flipping a switch. "It looks like
it just came live when we entered into its range. We're being scanned."
"It's too small even to be an enemy fighter," said Tiegs. "My
scanner can't identify it. What is it, some sort of Insect spy probe?"
"If so, they've got a take on us," said Hunter. "Switching to
weapons-" Suddenly, his comm signaled. "Wait a minute, I'm getting
something on the comm-"
Just as suddenly, there was a small flash ahead, and the blip
disappeared.
"What happened?" Tiegs asked.
"It self destructed," said Hunter. "But not before sending a
message to us."
"Expeditionary Force Alpha, you're cleared for launch," said
Captain Dulin. He watched the holoscreen as first the transport
carrying the marines and then the shuttle carrying the research
scientists launched. Two Wildcats from Bay Two launched seconds later
to provide escort to the planet.
"Another monument," said the War Admiral.
"I hope we get more out of it than the last one," said Wren
ruefully. They had spent days studying the last one, the "Whistler
Monument", to no avail; Stevenson's people couldn't even figure out why
it whistled.
"Sir, we're getting a signal from Captain Hunter's patrol," said
Lieutenant Shishman. With a nod from North he put it on speakers.
"-and it self destructed after relaying the message."
"A set of coordinates, five light years distant in a neighboring
solar system," said the War Admiral.
"This could very well be an Insect trap," said Dulin.
"Very possibly," said the War Admiral. But he stood very still
for a moment, as if weighing the alternatives. "Any signs of other
ships in the area?"
"None sir; we're surrounded by empty space," said Hunter.
"Very well," said the War Admiral. "Do you know where the sensor
device exploded?"
"Yes sir, we have the coordinates marked in. But there's nothing
there now."
"Hmm," said North. "Stand by."
"Sir?"
"Remain at your current position," said the War Admiral, closing
the comm. He turned to Dulin. "Captain, launch a recovery team in a
shuttle."
"Yes sir," said Dulin. Then, looking confused, he said, "What are
they going to recover?"
"Fragments from that self-destructing sensor," said the War
Admiral.
The marines were out of the transport even before the engines had
cooled, forming a sweeping perimeter as they moved to secure the
monument. They had only a short distance to go when they reached it, a
tall black shape in a clearing by the trees.
"Area secure," said Lieutenant Kirby, the duty officer.
Several minutes later they could hear the whine of the shuttle
dropping down and tucking in behind the transport. When the scientists
landed, they found an escort of two marines waiting to take them to the
monument. The War Admiral had ordered the scientists to be well
protected.
Professor Stevenson and his colleagues slowly made the short walk
to the monument. Their faces brightened when they saw it, and they
immediately started scanning it with complex equipment.
The EVA officer cycled through the shuttle's airlock, grasping
the pieces of the device that had destroyed itself. He put them in an
experiment box and handed them to one of the Glory's mechanical
engineers, who started scanning the bits and pieces curiously.
After a few minutes he nodded and said, "Get me the Glory."
"Of human manufacture?" said the War Admiral.
"Yes sir," said the holoimage of the officer on the shuttle.
"There aren't enough pieces to tell me what it was supposed to do, but
the bearing and type of the metal--it's pure Alliance, sir.
Manufactured recently, too."
"Really? How recent?"
"Spectral dating suggests this is eight, maybe nine months old,"
said the officer. "If this device was sent here immediately after
manufacture, it hasn't been here that long."
"Interesting," said the War Admiral. "A human-manufactured device
put out here only several months ago, in an area where we can
confidently say that no human has ever been before."
"It must be part of a trap on the part of the Insects," said
Dulin.
"Really, Captain? And why did they use a device of human
manufacture?"
"They anticipated that we would analyze the remains," said Dulin.
The War Admiral arched an eyebrow at him, frowning. Dulin felt
uncomfortable. "What other possible explanation could there be?"
"The device was destroyed in an attempt to prevent us from
learning of its origin," said the War Admiral. "If they had wanted us
to know it was of human origin, they wouldn't have ordered it to
destroy itself."
"I... I didn't consider that," said Dulin.
"Sir, no humans have ever been out this far," said Wren, coming
to Dulin's defense.
"That we know of," said the War Admiral.
"Even if an explorer had been here, this device wasn't left by an
errant adventurer."
"Agreed," said the War Admiral. "This was left specifically for
us."
"But who, besides the Insects, knows we're out here?" said Wren.
"Who indeed?" said the War Admiral. He stood frowning a minute
more, and then said, "I'll be in my office if I'm needed."
"Orders, sir?" said Dulin.
"Recall the shuttle," said the War Admiral.
"And the pilots?"
"Tell them to hold position," said the War Admiral.
"Sir?"
"Until further notice," said the War Admiral, as the door hissed
behind him.
The marines were spaced out in the woods, in a rough circle
around the monument and the landing area. That meant that each marine
was only barely within eyesight of the other marines in their cordon.
But Lieutenant Kirby only had two squads of men available and had
deployed them as best he could. He ordered each trooper to report in
every ten minutes and personally inspected each guard station every
hour. He wondered how long the scientists would be this time. He hoped
it wouldn't be as long as the last time, when they were at the whistler
monument. It had been very annoying, camping there for days, listening
to that thing whistle idiotically.
One of the guards, a Corporal Qaye, stared into the forest around
him. It seemed nice and peaceful. A soft wind blew in the distance,
causing the leaves of the trees to rattle a bit. And then Qaye heard a
twig snap.
He was instantly alert, looking into the direction of the sound.
It was behind some bushes. But he could see nothing.
He waited again, and heard another snapping sound, as if
something was slowly walking towards him.
"Post eight," he said into his comm. "I hear something in the
bushes. I'm going to check it out."
"You sent for me, sir?" said the Ken Pilot.
"Come in, David," said the War Admiral. "We have a situation I
need a volunteer for."
The War Admiral explained about the mysterious signal. "My
command crew believe it's almost certainly a trap, set by the Insects."
"A logical conclusion," said the Ken Pilot. And then, "But you
don't believe it."
"Let's just say I'm not sure what to believe," said the War
Admiral. "The Insects have set traps for us before, but rarely anything
this subtle. I think the odds are that it is a trap. But it could also
be something else."
"What else could it be?"
"That's what I want you to find out," said the War Admiral. "I
want you to go in there."
"With what kind of support?"
"None," said the War Admiral, figuring that if anyone could
survive a trap, it would be the Ken Pilot. "Unless you want support-"
"No," said the Ken Pilot, "They'll just slow me down."
"Incredible," said Professor Stevenson, murmuring with the other
scientists as they looked at an indicator on their scanning device.
"What, Professor?" said Lieutenant Kirby.
"This monument is six months old," said Stevenson.
"What?"
"It's made of simple titanium," said Stevenson. "It's a fraud."
"Just a moment," said Kirby, listening to one of his marines
report something. "Qaye, come in."
There was silence on the other end.
"Corporal Qaye, report," said Kirby.
"Qaye here," came his voice. "False alarm. It was just a small
animal."
"Very well," said Kirby. He turned to Stevenson. "I think we'd
better get out of here."
"I quite agree," said Stevenson, shivering as he looked at the
forest around him. Suddenly, it didn't look so tranquil.
Kirby switched to his command circuit. "Platoon, we're clearing
out!"
The thing that spoke with Corporal Qaye's voice looked down at
the mangled and bloody body of the marine. The thing turned the body
over, studying the face and uniform. Its features, vaguely humanoid,
shimmered, and then became an identical copy of Qaye's. The thing
grabbed Qaye's equipment, and then started back for the shuttle.
"The team from the planet is returning," said Captain Dulin,
turning away from the image of the Ken Pilot's starfighter, streaking
away from the Glory.
"So soon?" the War Admiral said.
"Sir, the monument is a fake," said Dulin. "Stevenson reported
that the monument was build several months ago, much like the pieces of
the sensor we recovered."
"What?" said the War Admiral. He got on the line and spoke to
Stevenson himself for several minutes. When he closed the comm, he
shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense."
"Sir?"
"If they're trying to lure us somewhere else, what was the
purpose of the monument?" said the War Admiral. "On the one hand, we
have a monument luring us here, and on the other hand, we have a
relayed message telling us to go several light years in another
direction."
"They could have placed the monument to bring us here, and the
sensor device to send us to the final ambush zone," said Dulin.
"No," said the War Admiral. "They already had us here. Why do
they want us to go somewhere else?"
"Sir, I think we should recall the Ken Pilot," said Dulin.
The War Admiral made no answer, just walking slowly to his
office.
"Sir?"
The War Admiral disappeared into his office.
"I've never seen him quite like this," said Dulin, turning to
Wren.
"Puzzled, you mean?" said Wren.
The Ken Pilot reached the position where Hunter and Tiegs were
holding position.
"Where are you going?" said Hunter.
"I'm going to the coordinates you were sent," said the Ken Pilot.
Hunter and Tiegs, parallel to each other, exchanged glances.
"Alone?"
"Yes. The War Admiral says you're relieved," said the Ken Pilot.
Hunter watched the Ken Pilot fly past him. "We can't let you go
in alone."
"No," agreed the Ken Pilot. "Only the War Admiral can do that."
"We'll remain here on point, in case you need help for a quick
retreat."
"Fine," said the Ken Pilot. "Just don't get in the way or expect
me to save you."
The transport and the shuttle docked with the Glory. The troopers
casually filed out of the transport, and the scientists disembarked
from the shuttle. An officer was waiting at the exit hatch, to escort
Professor Stevenson to the War Admiral.
No one paid any attention to Corporal Qaye as he filed out with
the rest of the marine detachment. When they reached the barracks, the
very first thing he did was go to a public terminal and punch up a list
of the officers in the chain of command.
"Are you certain?" said the War Admiral. "Perhaps it was simply a
new monument created recently."
Stevenson looked disgusted. "The Monumental have been dead for
hundreds of thousands of years."
"But suppose one of them were still alive," said the War Admiral.
"The date of manufacture is only one piece of the puzzle," said
Stevenson. "This monument doesn't match the composition of any of the
other monuments. It's simple titanium, something that we could have
manufactured, or-"
"The Insects," said the War Admiral.
Stevenson nodded.
"Lieutenant, were there any incidents on the planet?" the War
Admiral asked.
"None, sir," said Kirby. "The scientists were safely escorted to
and from the ship."
"No contacts of any kind?"
Kirby thought about Qaye's non-contact with the local animal
life. "Nothing of substance, sir."
"Substance?"
"One of my men encountered a small wild animal. The animal ran
off without incident."
"Hm," said the War Admiral.
"If the Insects created this as a lure, then they know we're
here," said Stevenson. "We should leave this system."
"Hm," said the War Admiral again.
"Sir?" said Dulin. "I agree."
"There's only one problem" said the War Admiral. "If this were a
trap, the Insects would have sprung it by now."
The Ken Pilot streaked into the solar system indicated by the
coordinates, ready for anything. The system had no planets, only a
bright type C star. It was as if whoever picked the coordinates choose
a location where there would be no place to hide, no place to spring an
ambush.
The Ken Pilot detected a blip on the sensors. Now that was
interesting.
There was a very large cargo ship in the system. And, although
the Ken Pilot didn't know the configuration, it was clearly a ship of
human design.
The Ken Pilot briefly considered calling the War Admiral for
instructions. But if it were a trap, and the Insects homed in on the
signal, he would be giving away the fleet's location.
No, the safest thing to do was to take a roundabout way back,
make sure he wasn't followed, and rendezvous with the other fighters,
head back to the Glory and report his findings.
Without hesitation, the Ken Pilot accelerated towards the large
cargo ship.
"AA five on blue four," said Wren.
The War Admiral didn't move, but only continued to stare at the
holographic puzzle. They were slowly assembling a three dimensional
image bit by bit. Lately, that had been how they had been spending
their off-duty time together.
"Sir?" she said, wondering if he had heard her.
"It won't work," said the War Admiral.
"Sir?" she said again.
"AA five fits too easily on blue four," said the War Admiral. He
gestured to another piece of the puzzle. "We're not even ready for
green five yet. I think it will fit into brown sector, when we get to
that part of the puzzle." But he seemed distracted, even as he said it.
Wren walked over to the War Admiral. "You're not really thinking
about the puzzle, are you?"
"It's the first time they've been able to stump me, Stacy," said
the War Admiral. "Usually, I can see in an instant what they're up to,
but this time... I don't know, I just don't know."
"I still think it's a trap," said Wren.
"We've been in this solar system for nearly two days now, and
still no sign of attack," said the War Admiral. "When is the trap going
to be sprung? No," he said, shaking his head. "If it's a trap, it's a
new kind of trap, one with a kind of danger that we won't recognize,
not until it's too late."
The Ken Pilot landed in the giant cargo ship's docking bay. His
scanners had indicated no lifesigns, but he took nothing for granted.
If it were a trap, most likely the ship would blow up the instant he
landed.
And yet he landed. Something, instinct, perhaps, told him that
this wasn't a trap, or at least, not a conventional trap.
He landed, and got out of his fighter. The silence was deafening.
But the bay was well lighted. And packed with supplies.
The Ken Pilot walked over to one. Studying a box with a hand
scanner, he flipped it open.
It didn't explode. The box contained a familiar looking
mechanical part. A Wildcat engine motivator.
The Ken Pilot inspected a few more boxes. Then he went to the
door separating the bay from the rest of the ship. After checking with
his scanner, he operated the door.
The ship still didn't explode.
The rest of the ships were filled with containers. The Ken Pilot
checked some of the others. They contained spare parts too.
He went back to his ship and prepared to begin the long trip
home.
The next morning the War Admiral sat back in his chair in the war
room, looking expectantly at his senior officers. Captain Dulin had
just finished delivering the shipwide status report, and now all eyes
were on the Chief Engineer.
"Everything the same as last week," said Yurgi Arkasian. "Those
parts we jury rigged from the Marist's secondary processors are holding
up, but when they're gone, we're going to have to figure out something
else or deal with a 50% reduction in our top speed."
"You'll have to figure out something else, then," said the War
Admiral. "Commander?"
"The ship is functioning reasonably well," said Wren. "Though I
echo the Chief's concern about a lack of spare parts. We've shut down
some non-essential systems, but if this problem goes on much longer,
we're going to have to seriously begin cannibalizing some of the other
ships to keep ours operational."
"Colonel?"
"Ditto," said Colonel Darley. "Two squadrons of Wildcats are
already down. We're only going to lose more over time."
"Have we tried manufacturing the parts we need?" said the War
Admiral, turning back to Arkasian.
"We've been able to modify some parts, and manufacture some basic
things we need, but these are really complex parts we're talking
about," said Arkasian. "We'd need a complex electronics production
facility, and that we simply do not have."
"I see," said North, weighing the alternatives. Suddenly, the
comm chimed. "Sir, we have a signal from the Ken Pilot, on final
approach."
North checked his watch. It was almost time for the fleetwide
briefing. But he really wanted to hear what the Ken Pilot had to say.
"Patch the audio in here." And then, "David. We're listening."
"It's a giant cargo ship, War Admiral," said the Ken Pilot.
"Really," said the War Admiral. "Did you scan it?"
"I went on board."
The War Admiral blinked, as if the move were either very brave or
very foolhardy. "And what did you see?"
"Spare parts."
"What?" said the War Admiral, looking very, very surprised.
"All kinds of spare parts--engineering components, and the like.
I even recognized some Wildcat parts."
"And there was no one or nothing else on board to tell you where
this generous gift came from?"
"No," said the Ken Pilot. "All I found were another set of
coordinates, but they're lightyears away from here."
"Hm..." said the War Admiral, looking out the window for a
moment. "David, land in Bay 4. I want you and your ship to go through
decontam, to see if there was anything in the atmosphere of that ship.
When you're done, report to me in my office." He closed the comm line.
"How fortuitous," said Dulin.
"Yes, how fortuitous indeed," said the War Admiral.
"I still think it's a trap," said Wren. "At least, it's much more
likely to be a trap than the gift of some anonymous donor."
"I agree," said the War Admiral. "But given our situation, the
possibility that it's not a trap is one that we can no longer afford
not to investigate." He checked his chrono. "It's almost time for my
fleet meeting. You're dismissed."
Everyone except for Captain Dulin started to file out. On the way
out Major Fortran caught the War Admiral's eye. "Major? I'm sorry, we
didn't hear from you. Did you have anything to report?"
Major Fortran, being in charge of the marines who were seldom in
action, usually had nothing to report, and was often overlooked.
"Nothing substantial, sir," said Fortran.
Substantial. That was the same word that Lieutenant Kirby had
used when reporting to him. "Wait," said the War Admiral. "What's
unsubstantial to report?"
Fortran looked embarrassed. "One of my men has disappeared, sir."
"Disappeared?"
"It looks like he's gone AWOL; at least, he didn't report for
morning muster," said Fortran. "It's Corporal Qaye."
The name didn't ring a bell. "So? Have you initiated a search?"
Fortran reddened. "I was investigating the matter myself, first.
Sometimes the men party a little too much and lose track of time-"
"I see," said the War Admiral. "Begin your search, Major. Let me
know what you discover."
"Aye, sir," said Fortran, eager to leave in a hurry.
Wren looked curiously at the War Admiral. "You didn't come down
very hard on him, sir."
The War Admiral gave a barely perceptible glance at Dulin before
saying, "We all need to occasionally blow off some steam, Commander."
Corporal Qaye, or the thing that looked like Corporal Qaye, was
hunched in a maintenance tube just below the main bridge. He opened a
panel containing comm conduits and took out some wires of his own....
The holographic images of the other fleet captains shimmered and
appeared in the war room. North welcomed them, going over routine
matters. He didn't mention the ship that the Ken Pilot had found. But
he did mention the planet where the false monument had been found.
"We don't know who put it there or why," said the War Admiral.
"The Insects are a very obvious possibility."
"Then what are we still doing here?" asked Captain Michael
Bennett of the Amory Til.
"Investigating other possibilities," said the War Admiral
generally.
"Sir, we're overlooking the obvious," said one of the fleet
captains. It was Captain Shang of the Battlecruiser Renown, and one of
Bennett's Directorate officers.
The War Admiral raised an eyebrow. "Enlighten us, Captain."
"Who cares what kind of monument we found or didn't find? The
point is there's a habitable planet down there--hospitable atmosphere,
water, vegetation, animal life."
Not again. "Your point, Captain?"
"We should think about settling there," said Shang. "I don't know
about you, War Admiral, but my crew been inside a ship for seven years,
and we're tired of chasing elusive monuments that lead nowhere."
"What would you have us do, Captain? Abandon our ships and become
farmers for the rest of our lives?"
Shang reddened. "Some of us will have to farm, yes, just as some
of us are farming now. We'll be building a new community, a new life
away from the empty wanderings we have now."
"And what happens when the Insects come looking for us?" North
inquired.
"They won't be looking for us on a planet," said Shang. "They're
only looking for our ships."
"And you know that because...." North let his voice trail off.
"They're only interested in our ships because only our ships can
threaten them."
"I see," said North. "And all our worlds without ships that they
conquered, they conquered because...."
"Our planets had manufacturing facilities that could build
weapons, ships," said Shang. "I hardly think they'll even be interested
in a small out of the way agricultural settlement. Since they're
looking for ships, they may never even find us."
"I see," said North. "If an Insect fleets comes into this system,
they'll only scan the space around the planets for our ships. They
won't come closer and scan the planets for lifesigns."
"Correct," said Shang.
"Your argument makes perfect sense," said North. "Perfect sense,
if you are really naive enough to believe that's how the Insects will
act. I remind you, gentlemen, that we are already many years beyond
even the farthest edge of Alliance space, and still they come after us.
They will not stop until all of us are dead or enslaved."
"There are those of us who don't share that assessment, War
Admiral," said Shang.
"Yes, I know," said the War Admiral. "Fortunately, I am in
command. Now, what is the next item of business?"
The thing that had been Corporal Qaye slithered out of the
maintenance tube, removing the earpiece as it did so. As the thing
walked down the corridor it saw two marines walking around with a
photopad. Undoubtedly, they were looking for him. He ducked into one of
the rooms on the corridor, a technical workshop. A short scream could
be heard, than nothing else.
The two marines entered the room a few moments later. They saw a
naval tech working on some components on a table.
"Hi," said one of the marines. "Have you seen this man?" they
said, showing the photopad.
The tech looked at the photopad closely. "No," he said. "Haven't
seem him."
"If you do, contact security," said the marines, leaving.
"I will," the tech promised as they left.
The tech looked down. Below the waist, he was still Corporal
Qaye. He opened a supply cabinet, staring at the body of the tech. The
lower part of his body shimmered....
"War Admiral," said the Ken Pilot.
"Did you go through decontam?" said the War Admiral.
The Ken Pilot nodded. "At your request, Doctor Farb checked me
and my ship out personally. He found nothing out of the ordinary."
"So it's not some kind of bio warfare trap," said the War
Admiral. "What do your instincts tell you?"
"If it is a trap, it's not of the obvious 'ship will blow up when
you get too close' kind," said the Ken Pilot. "The ship was placed in
open space, which would make an ambush difficult."
"Yes," said the War Admiral. "At least, a conventional ambush."
He nodded, deciding. "I want you to go back there with a destroyer and
a scanning crew. Tow that thing over here, and have the crew go over
the ship from stem to stern enroute. I want to know everything that's
onboard, and I want every inch of that ship, including the walls and
electronics, fully checked out."
The Ken Pilot nodded and left.
At the end of his shift, the War Admiral left his office and
walked across the bridge to the exit.
"Good evening, sir," said Dulin, as North left, nodding in
return.
North went directly to his quarters, where the marine soldier on
guard snapped to attention. "As you were," said North. "You're relieved
for the next four hours."
"Sir," said the marine, saluting as he departed.
A few minutes later the War Admiral reentered the bridge.
"Sir?" said Captain Dulin. "Did you forget something?"
"Yes," said the War Admiral, heading to his office. Once inside,
he activated the comm.
About thirty minutes later, the War Admiral came out of his
office. "Clear bay four, Captain."
"Sir?" said Captain Dulin.
"I need bay four cleared for a few minutes," said the War
Admiral. "For security reasons."
Dulin opened the comm and gave the orders. "Sir, do you want me
to order security-"
"No," said the War Admiral. "I'll handle this myself," he said,
leaving the bridge.
Dulin turned to Shishman. "Do we have anything coming into bay
4?"
Shishman checked the sensors. "Just a shuttle from the Renown.
Not on our daily schedule, but it's been cleared."
"By whom?"
Shishman checked the logs. "The War Admiral."
What kind of secret meeting was the War Admiral going to, and why
was he holding this meeting in a landing bay?
"So I'm telling you, Obe, I think it would be a great idea to
reinstate the fleet olympics," said Took. Took and Obe were taking a
walking along the lower decks on their way back to their crew quarters.
When they were off duty they took frequent walks to exercise and to
relieve the tedium. Sometimes they would walk the perimeter of each
landing bay just for variety's sake.
"Uh-huh," said Obe.
Suddenly they saw the War Admiral, walking towards them in a
hurry.
"Hey War Admiral," said Took.
The War Admiral ignored them, just walking past them rapidly
without saying a word.
"What's gotten into him?" Took said. He looked back at the
fleeing form of the Admiral. "And why is he wearing a gun holster?"
Captain Shang of the Renown exited the shuttle. He found himself
in a deserted landing bay, deserted, that is, except for the War
Admiral, who was standing there waiting for him.
"All right, War Admiral, I came alone, as you requested," he said
wearily. "Would you mind telling me what this is all about?"
"I'm no longer willing to tolerate your interference with my
command," said the War Admiral.
"What are you going to do, demote me to bay worker?" said Shang.
"No," said the War Admiral. "I am going to kill you." Before
Shang could react, he pulled his blaster, and fired.
"What was that?" said Took. "Sounded like blaster fire."
They raced into the bay, and saw the crumpled body in front of
the shuttle. Took reached down to feel for a pulse. "Call the medics!"
he yelled.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement. He turned to face
it directly and saw the back of the War Admiral, fleeing through
another exit.
Captain Dulin couldn't believe his ears. The War Admiral,
shooting a fellow officer in cold blood? There must be some other
explanation. He summoned Major Fortran, and went below decks.
When he got to the War Admiral's quarters he was surprised not to
find any sign of the marine guard posted outside his quarters. Major
Fortran showed up moments later with two of his men.
"Where's the marine guard, Major?" Dulin asked.
"I don't know, Captain," said Fortran. "We'd better see if the
War Admiral is all right." He pressed the buzzer.
For a long moment there was no answer. He pressed the buzzer
again. They prepared to forcibly enter his quarters when-
"Yes?" came the voice over the filtered comm.
"Sir, it's Captain Dulin," said Dulin.
"Yes Captain?"
"Sir, I need to see you," said Dulin.
"Captain, I'm off duty. Is this urgent?"
Dulin frowned. That didn't sound like the War Admiral.
"Yes, sir."
"One moment."
They waited outside the War Admiral's door for considerably
longer than one moment before the door opened. The War Admiral was
there, buttoning his shirt as he stood in the doorway, blocking their
entry or further view into his quarters. "This better be good, Captain-
" he started to say, and then he saw Major Fortran and his men. "What's
going on here?"
"Sir, there's been an incident in hanger bay 4," said Dulin.
"Captain Shang has been shot."
"Shot? What was he even doing on the Glory?" said the War
Admiral. "Did any of the tech crews see anything?"
"You ordered the tech crews out of the bay, sir," said Dulin.
"But Lieutenant Took saw you leaving the scene-"
"What?" said the War Admiral. "Back up, Captain. I've been in my
quarters for the past two hours. I didn't order the bay crews to do
anything-"
"Respectfully, sir, I saw you do it, on the bridge," said Dulin.
"You saw me, on the bridge?" said the War Admiral.
"Right after you went off-duty, you came back," said Dulin.
"Don't you remember?"
"No, I most certainly do not," said the War Admiral.
"Admiral, where's your marine guard?" Dulin asked.
"I sent him away," said the War Admiral. "Let's get some
answers." He moved forward, letting the door to his quarters close
behind him, and ordered everyone to accompany him to sickbay, leaving
no one behind at the entrance to his quarters.
"How is he, Doctor Farb?" The War Admiral asked, staring at
Shang, lying on a medbed in sickbay.
"He'll live," said Farb. "He was shot at point blank range, but
luckily for him the shooter wasn't a very good shoot--it just hit him
in the side. He's lost a lot of blood, but he'll make it."
"Can we speak to him?" said the War Admiral.
"He's conscious, War Admiral," said Farb. "But he may not want to
speak to you."
The War Admiral walked over to his bed, followed by Dulin and
Fortran. Shang's eyes widened when he saw the War Admiral. "Coming to
finish the job?" he rasped.
"I didn't shoot you," said the War Admiral.
Shang just glared at him bitterly.
"What were you even doing on the Glory in the first place?" the
War Admiral asked.
"You summoned me," said Shang. "You said I had to come alone. The
reason why is obvious now."
"I never summoned you," said the War Admiral.
"I just checked the comm logs," said Dulin. "You did send a
transmission from your office after you returned to the bridge."
"I never returned to the bridge!" said the War Admiral. "It
wasn't me. Were there any witnesses to this shooting, besides Shang?"
"I saw you," said Took, entering the medbay. "I saw you entering
the bay. You were armed. And I saw you fleeing the scene right after
Shang was shot."
"It wasn't me, Captain," said the War Admiral. "How often do I go
around armed? You can go to my quarters and check my gun, if you like;
it hasn't been fired in days."
"You were clearly reluctant to let us into your quarters before,
sir," said Dulin.
"Well, I'm not reluctant now," the War Admiral snapped.
The impromptu fleet meeting the following morning was as
tumultuous as one might have expected.
"Is this what we've come to, War Admiral?" said Captain Bennett.
"Executing those who disagree with you?"
"I didn't shoot him," said the War Admiral.
"Shang says you did! Your own Captain Took saw you fleeing the
scene!"
"That wasn't me," said the War Admiral.
"Then who is this?" said Bennett. He projected a image from the
security vid from Bay 4. It showed the War Admiral walking up to Shang
and shooting him at point blank range. How had Bennett secured the
Glory's security video? An interesting question.
"War Admiral, I demand that you step down pending an
investigation and trial," said Bennett.
"Demand?" said the War Admiral, his eyes narrowing.
"War Admiral," said Captain Harkness of the Blue Luna, "This is a
very charged situation. Whether you're guilty, or innocent, you have to
agree this raises a lot of questions. I think it prudent for you to
take a temporary leave of absence while you get this sorted out."
The War Admiral tried to hold in his anger, to maintain an
outward calm. Biting his lips, he slowly nodded. He waited a moment,
trying to regain control of his emotions so he could speak calmly. Then
he said, "Very well. Captain Dulin."
"Sir?"
"You are in operational command of the fleet until further
notice," said the War Admiral, glaring at Bennett. There was no way he
was going to put Bennett in charge. "Major Fortran!"
"Sir!"
"Conduct your investigation."
"I demand that the War Admiral be placed under arrest pending the
outcome of this investigation," said Bennett.
"You demand?" said Dulin, his eyes narrowing. "We may have an
arrest, but not the one you're thinking of."
"I request, then," said Bennett. He wasn't ready to take on
Dulin, not yet at least.
"I will stay in my quarters, and only exit with a marine escort.
Will that satisfy you, Captain?" said the War Admiral acidly.
"For now," said Bennett.
The War Admiral slammed his fist down on the disconnect button,
and the images of the fleet captains faded. "You realize what we've got
here, don't you?" he said, turning to Dulin. "We've got an imposter
onboard."
"No, of course I don't think the War Admiral would do such a
thing," said Took. "At least, I didn't think he would, before I saw him
do it."
"We didn't actually see him do it," Obe reminded him.
"They caught it on the security vid," said Took.
"Vids can be altered," said Obe.
They reached the War Admiral's quarters. The two marines on guard
were expecting them and let them pass. The War Admiral buzzed them in.
"Well, gentlemen, we do have a situation," said the War Admiral.
"It's obvious we have an imposter aboard."
"An imposter?" said Took.
"Yes," said the War Admiral. "Something, or someone, who can
change shape and appearance at will."
"And voice," said Took. "Don't forget the voice."
"Yes," said the War Admiral. "That wasn't me you saw in the
corridor, Took."
"Sir," said Took, looking unsure.
"You told the investigators that I didn't respond when you
greeted me. How many times have you seen me in the corridors, Captain?"
Took shrugged. "Hundreds."
"How many times have I failed to respond to your greeting?"
"None," said Took. He started to look thoughtful. "If it was an
imposter, why wouldn't he respond?"
"I have a theory," said the War Admiral. "This imposter may be
able to look and sound like us, but he doesn't have our memories. This
imposter couldn't greet you, because he didn't know who you were, and
was afraid of getting caught in a conversation."
"That's possible," said Took.
"Furthermore, have a look at Shang's injury. Shot at point blank
range--but the aim was miserable, and he's still alive. Shang was left
alive on purpose, to testify that I attacked him."
"But what kind of being could change its appearance at will?"
said Took.
"Ask Corporal Qaye," said the War Admiral grimly.
"Who?"
"A marine soldier missing since he apparently returned from the
expedition to the planet."
"Apparently returned?"
"I think someone or something murdered Corporal Qaye and took his
place. And that someone or something is aboard this ship."
"And this thing could be masquerading as anyone, then" said Took.
"Yes," said the War Admiral. "Anyone."
"What do you want from me?" said Took.
"I want you to investigate and get to the bottom of things," said
the War Admiral.
"Major Fortran is investigating-"
"I'd prefer an investigation through unofficial channels as
well," said the War Admiral. He didn't explain further, and they didn't
press him.
"So how do I know that you are really Obe?" said Took, as he
launched the shuttle he was piloting from the Glory's landing bay..
"Oh, please don't start with that," said Obe, sitting in the
copilot's seat..
"If you're the real Obe, tell me what we had for dinner last
Friday," said Took.
"The same thing we've had all week--30 day potato rations."
"Oh," said Took. "You're right, that's too easy. Ok, when we were
on patrol last week, why did you fire your lasers?"
"I didn't," said Obe. "You did, accidentally. So you claimed."
"You're Obe, I guess," said Took. Another thought occurred to
him. "At least you are, until you leave my sight again."
Obe sighed. It was going to be one of those weeks.
They landed in the original zone where the first expeditionary
force had landed. When they got out of the ship, they both drew their
weapons. The forest around them looked dark and sinister.
"I told you we should've brought K," said Took.
"Which way shall we go?" said Obe.
"Let's start with the monument."
They walked uneasily towards the monument.
"Lovely place," said Took uneasily, listening to the distant
howling sound of the wind blowing through the trees.
They reached the monument in the clearing, where it cast a shadow
over the afternoon sun.
"So that's a fake monument," said Took. He tapped the outer
shell. "Looks real enough to me."
"Let's start looking for signs of Qaye," said Obe.
They started a standard military search--a slowly outward spiral
from the monument. Obe and Took stood ten feet apart, each within
constant eye contact of the other. On the third loop they came across
the bushes that Qaye had investigated. Obe saw a leg sticking out of
the bushes.
"Took!" he yelled.
Gingerly, his hand on his weapon, he pulled on the leg, revealing
the mangled body of Corporal Qaye.
"The War Admiral was right," said Took, stunned. "We do have an
imposter on board."
"And now we have proof," said Obe. He opened a pouch he was
carrying, and started to unroll a body bag. "Let's get him back to the
Glory."
Captain Dulin nodded at the marine guards as he entered the War
Admiral's quarters. "You sent for me, sir?"
"Yes," said the War Admiral. "Did you see both of the reports I
sent you?"
"Yes," said Dulin. "I just finished reading Captain Took's
interim report."
"It would seem that we brought back something from the surface
that wasn't Corporal Qaye," said the War Admiral. "I think it's
reasonable to assume that if it could assume Qaye's appearance on the
spot, that it could look like anyone else, including me."
"I accept that implicitly, Admiral," said Dulin. "But I'm not
sure that Captain Bennett will."
"Well, then we'll just have to be convincing," said the War
Admiral. "Because as of this moment I am returning to active duty. Time
is too precious to waste sitting around here."
He waited to see what Dulin's reaction would be. Would Dulin try
to prevent him from returning to duty?
Dulin stiffened, saluted. "Sir, yes sir."
The War Admiral nodded. "Now, have you looked at the other report
from the tech team?"
"Yes, and it's incredible," said Dulin.
"Isn't it?" said the War Admiral. "Not only does that large cargo
ship have parts we can use, it has the exact parts we need. Not just
any Wildcat parts, but the critical Wildcat motivators that we're short
on and have had to cannibalize parts for. Most of the parts on the
Chief Engineer's wish list are also there as well."
"How is that possible?" said Dulin.
"You mean, if it's an Insect trap, how could they know exactly
what we need?" said the War Admiral. "Odd as it may sound, I don't
believe it is an Insect trap. Did you see the analysis of the ship?
Like the equipment, it was manufactured in the past two months. The
ship was never built to carry a crew or go very far--in fact, it's
practically peeling at the seams. It seems the ship was meant to fly
only a short distance--Captain Hunter traced its trajectory to just
outside the system where it was found."
"Just outside the system?" said Dulin. "What does that mean?"
"Either it was manufactured just outside the system, in the
emptiness of space, or something else we can't detect carried it
there," said the War Admiral. "It would be a technology that's beyond
us, and yet our analysis shows that the equipment on that ship was
produced using current Alliance technology."
"Current Alliance technology?" said Dulin. "It only gets more and
more confusing. How does this tie in with the false monument and the
imposter?"
"I don't believe it does," said the War Admiral. "I think they
are two separate and unrelated events. The purpose of the false
monument is now clear--to get us down there and to plant this assassin
in the fleet. The purpose of this cargo ship is different. It is to
resupply us."
"What does it mean?"
"We can only find out if we follow the coordinates left for us on
that ship," said the War Admiral. "But my guess is that we've got
allies out there, allies we didn't know about."
"If we have allies, why don't they reveal themselves?" said
Dulin.
"Another very interesting question," said the War Admiral.
"And so you see, gentlemen, Corporal Qaye was killed on the
planet. And yet someone looking like the Corporal came back on the
transport. Obviously, we are dealing with an enemy who can change
appearance at will," said the War Admiral, addressing the holographic
representations of the fleet captains.
The fleet officers looked shocked and surprised.
"And your officer confirms that he saw this Qaye return on the
transport?" said one of the captains.
"Yes," said Lieutenant Kirby, at ramrod attention.
"Then it seems we owe you an apology," said Captain Harkness. "I
never believed you would do such a dumbfool thing, War Admiral, but you
understand why we had to do what we did."
The War Admiral nodded. "There are no hard feelings. Our duty now
is to locate this being. We are acting on the assumption that it is
still on the Glory; and we are also acting on the assumption that there
is only one of it. A second crewmember, a technician George Gage, has
been reported missing, and his body was discovered only minutes ago. We
think one of the imposter's weaknesses is memory--it can look and sound
like whomever it chooses, but it doesn't have the memory of its
victim."
"What do you suggest?"
"Everyone pair up in two's," said the War Admiral. "As of now,
the Glory is under embargo--all flights in and out are canceled.
Security will go around, person by person, and ask each crewman
questions from his personal bio."
Some of the fleet captains rolled their eyes. They knew the Glory
had a crew of nearly 3,000.
"I sense skepticism," said the War Admiral. "Does anyone have any
better suggestions?"
"So you were born... where, exactly?" said Took.
"On Zalto," said Zetho Arkasian.
Obe checked his pad. "That checks out."
"Give me another question," Took instructed Obe.
"Not another," said Zetho, working on a fighter with a coworker.
"I busy."
"We've already asked him four questions," said Obe. "I think he's
ok."
"You can never be too sure," said Took.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you like it," said Obe. "It's just like being a
journalist, going around, bugging people with your questions. Only this
time, you have a real excuse for doing it."
"Obe," said Took, opening his mouth to give a rebuttal. Then he
closed it. "Let's get on to the next suspect."
Captain Dulin entered the bay and approached them. "Status
report," he said crisply.
"Sir, we've covered nearly a dozen bay workers, but no sign so
far," said Took. "We have no way of knowing if this memory trick will
work."
"Elaborate," said Dulin.
"Well, we're asking people things about their personal bios,"
said Took. "But if the imposter had taken the time to look up their own
bio, it won't do any good."
"I see," said Dulin. "Carry on," he said, marching away.
"He's pretty chatty today, isn't he?" Took remarked.
They moved on to the next bay worker, and then the one after
that. While they were interrogating him, Captain Dulin and Commander
Wren entered the bay.
"Status report, Captain," said Dulin.
"Not much has changed in the past five minutes," said Took,
looking quizzically at him.
"Five minutes?" said Dulin.
A worried look crossed Took's face. "Oh oh. Tell me I just spoke
to you five minutes ago."
"Was I alone?" said Dulin.
"Uhhh..."
"Yes, you were," said Obe.
"Fools! You know that none of us travel alone," said Dulin. He
spoke into his wrist comm. "The intruder is currently masquerading as
myself, Captain Dulin. If you see me unaccompanied by Commander Wren,
detain me immediately!"
He turned to go, but caught something in Took's expression. "Was
there something else?"
"I, ah, may have mentioned something about-"
"Fool!" said the War Admiral. "You surprise and disappoint me,
Idaho Took."
"Yes sir," said Took, standing stiffly at attention.
"Well, now we've lost the advantage of surprise," said the War
Admiral.
"We've locked down the personnel database, War Admiral," said
Dulin. "It can only use what it's already accessed."
The War Admiral nodded. "Continue the search. You may turn up
with something. Dismissed."
Took, his head hung, headed for the exit. He opened his mouth to
say something as he walked by the War Admiral, but, seeing his
expression, he thought better of it and left.
As they filed out Wren entered his office. "Things not going
well?"
"I don't think this search is going to work."
"What will work?" Wren asked.
"We have to figure out what this creature's goals are," said the
War Admiral. "Once we figure out what it's really up to, we can be
there to nab it."
"Knowing you, you've already figured that out," said Wren.
"Hm," said the War Admiral non-commentally, abruptly heading for
the door.
"Hey," she said, touching him on the shoulder. "Where are you
going?"
"To my quarters," said the War Admiral. "It's been a long day,
I'd like some rest."
"All right, we got a lead!" said Took, listening to the report
that just came over the wrist comm. He started running, and Obe
followed.
"Where?"
"Marine country," said Took. "One of our men reported a navy
crewman tapping into the database near the barracks. He called in, and
said he was going to investigate."
"And what happened?" said Obe, starting to gasp for breath.
"He never reported back."
When they reached the marine barracks Major Fortran and his men
were already there, bending over a body dressed in marine greens. "What
happened?"
"Private Koshori didn't wait for backup," said Fortran grimly.
"Now this thing could be posing as a marine again."
"Or as anyone," said Obe. "If this bug can change shape at will,
there's no way we're going to catch him."
Fortran's search teams started to disperse. Took, however, stood
very still, frowning.
"Iday?"
"Why would he come back here?" Took asked.
"I don't know, maybe he was just keeping on the move," said Obe.
"The marine said he was accessing a terminal," said Took. "Why?"
"To try and get some personal bio info, maybe," said Obe.
"No, he would've found out by now that that info was locked
down," said Took. "And he made a point of coming here to look it up."
"He?"
"It, he, whatever, we'll establish gender at the dissection,"
said Took, distracted. "What would he need here that he couldn't get
anywhere else?"
"Nothing," said Took. "If he wanted to access a terminal, he
could try and do that anywhere."
"You're wrong," said Took, snapping his fingers. "There's one
thing here that can't be found in any other specific place."
"Come on, Took, if you have the answer, don't keep me waiting,"
said Obe.
"Marines, buddy, marines."
"But there are marines all over the ship right now, on patrol,"
said Obe.
"Yeah, but what if you're looking for a specific marine?"
"Why would he want a particular marine?" said Obe blankly.
"Just think about it, buddy. This alien's been discovered. His
primary job, to sow dissension in the ranks, won't work. What's left
for him to do?"
"Sabotage?"
"Maybe. What else?"
Obe concentrated. "I don't know."
"Think, Obe. Not all the marines are on patrol," said Took,
suddenly making a decision, as he lit up and sprang down the hall.
"Oh no," said Obe, suddenly understanding. "The War Admiral's
guard sentinel."
Corporal Zelas approached the door to the War Admiral's quarters.
"I relieve you, sir," he said to the marine on duty.
The other marine, a private, saluted and departed for the
barracks. Zelas waited a good, long moment for the other marine to
disappear. Then he used his access code to enter the War Admiral's
quarters.
It was dark inside, the only illumination provided by a dim
reading light in the War Admiral's bed. The War Admiral was in bed,
reading.
"Yes, who is it?" he said, peering out into the dark.
The door slid closed behind Zelas. "We've never met," said Zelas,
stepping into the edge of the light. His hand tightly gripped the
blaster. "But I must say it's a real honor to meet you. My employers
think quite highly of you."
"Very nice. I take it you're here to kill me," said the War
Admiral calmly, slowly putting down his book.
Zelas, or the thing that was Zelas, nodded.
"What will be gained by killing me?" said the War Admiral. "The
fleet will still go on."
"You underestimate your importance," said Zelas. "Your
elimination or neutralization was always a strong secondary goal.
Unfortunately, when you saw through my ruse, I was forced to act more
directly."
"I see," said the War Admiral. "And what do you plan to do once
I'm dead? You can't destroy the whole fleet by yourself."
"Can't I?" said Zelas "You presume that you're going to
disappear. You're not. You're simply going to be replaced."
"You're going to become me," said the War Admiral.
"I've done it before," said Zelas.
"How do you intend to destroy the fleet when you take over?"
"Not that it really concerns you, but there's a binary star some
20 lights years distant. We will go there and then take our weapon
systems off-line for a very, very thorough overhaul."
"And that's when the attack will occur."
"Yes," said Zelas, gripping the blaster slightly.
"Before you kill me, would you mind if I asked how you got here?"
said the War Admiral. "After all, we're a long way from Insect space."
"Your petty Insects didn't send me," said Zelas. "Their masters
did. But you're right, I did come a long way. They used the particle
cannon to send me here."
"Particle cannon?"
"The same cannon they've been using to send massive fleets after
you. There have always been three or four fleets searching for you.
Each time you fight one, another is sent in its place," said Zelas.
"The particle cannon can send ships many, many lightyears in mere
hours."
"I didn't know the Insects had developed such advanced
technology," said the War Admiral.
"They haven't," said Zelas. "I'm afraid our time is running
short."
"Wait, one more question," said the War Admiral. "Who or what are
you?"
"Let's just say I'm a special hire," said Zelas. "My employers
spared no expense to send me here. And now, I'm afraid you've run out
of time for questions-"
"Very well," said the War Admiral, sitting up slowly in bed. That
was the signal. The smell of fresh sea air always faintly in the room,
grew stronger. "Are you prepared to give up?"
Zelas laughed, momentarily lowering its blaster slightly. "War
Admiral, I must admit, you have quite a reputation, but I can see
nothing that will save you this time."
"What will save me is your fatal flaw," said the War Admiral.
"My fatal flaw?" said Zelas, its human face looking curious.
"You can look like us, and sound like us, but you don't have our
memory. You don't even know a very common fact about me that every
single crewmember knows." As the War Admiral talked, a cloud started to
form behind Zelas.
"Don't worry, I'll be sure to read all about you before I assume
my role," said Zelas.
The foggy cloud became almost solid, assuming a familiar canine
form.
"It's a bit too late for that," said the War Admiral.
For the first time a look of hesitation formed on Zelas's face,
and he moved to steady his blaster arm.
"Sick'm!" The War Admiral barked a command and jumped to the
side, but he was in no danger, as his assailant was already screaming,
his gun dropped to the ground as Puffy burned the creature's arms and
neck.
The War Admiral pulled a blaster out from under his blanket and
yelled "Lights!"
The assassin was on the ground, trying to wrestle with Puffy, but
there was no way he could push away a semi-gaseous cloud.
"Off, boy, off!" said the War Admiral, just as Took and Obe burst
in.
The creature, now looking like a generic humanoid with bloody
burns on its skin, lay unmoving on the ground.
"Call Doctor Farb!" said the War Admiral. He turned to Puffy, who
was whining and sticking out his tongue. He reached out to pet the
animal; the gas that had so recently burned felt mildly cool to the
touch. "Good doggie!"
"The hardest part was training Puffy not to attack until I called
him," said the War Admiral.
"You were taking a terrible risk," said Wren. "What if that thing
was immune to Puffy's attacks?"
The War Admiral shrugged. "Would it have been better to let this
thing pick off the crew one by one? Not only was it killing people, but
it was preventing us from working together coherently as a team. That
would have been devastating in an attack."
"Why didn't you tell Puffy to attack immediately?" Dulin asked.
"I wanted some answers," said the War Admiral. "I know enough to
know that there's a lot that's going on that we don't know about. It's
a pity that thing isn't still alive. We'll have to have Doctor Farb do
an autopsy."
"Well, it was a major gamble, but it paid off," said Dulin. "A
particle cannon? That's how they've been launching their fleets at us?"
"It seems that way," said the War Admiral. "Even more interesting
is the fact that this being wasn't hired by the Insects. I think
someone is manipulating them. But who, and why? The next time we
capture one of these beings, we'll have to get more answers."
"I hope that won't be soon," said Dulin. "One was quite enough."
"What about the spare parts shipment?" said Wren. "I guess that
was part of the trap."
"How do you mean?" said the War Admiral.
"Well, it seems obvious they used this particle cannon to send
the cargo ship to us. Our own scans showed a drive trail that only
extended to the edge of the system," said Wren.
"If it was part of the trap, then what was it's purpose?" said
the War Admiral slowly. "We all agree that the false monument was a
lure to get the imposter onboard, correct?"
Wren and Dulin nodded.
"If so, then what need was there for this cargo ship full of
supplies?"
Wren was silent for a moment. Then she said, "Maybe the imposter
would have ordered us there to-"
"You forget," said the War Admiral gently. "The imposter told me
he was going to maneuver us to a binary star system 20 light years
away. Lieutenant Shishman has tentatively identified it for us." He
touched a button, and a holomap appeared, showing their location and a
flashing star system some distance away. "Furthermore, there were other
coordinates in this transport." He touched another button, showing a
path leading away from the system. "To follow these coordinates, we'd
have to go away from the binary system, not to it."
"That doesn't make sense," said Dulin. "It's almost as if two
different plans are at work here."
"Precisely," said the War Admiral. "I believe that whoever sent
us those supplies means us no harm. We've already started integrating
and testing the components and I'm told they're working fine. We should
have all our disabled Wildcats up and running within a week; and all
the critical components we need for engineering purposes should be
installed even sooner than that."
"If we do have allies, who are they?" said Dulin. "The Alliance
didn't have particle cannon technology."
"An interesting issue, isn't it?" said the War Admiral. "These
parts were either manufactured by humans, or by aliens having intimate
knowledge of our manufacturing techniques. In fact, whoever sent these
items to us must have had intimate knowledge of our needs, because in
nearly all cases they sent us exactly what we most required."
"But how could they have known? And why don't they show
themselves?" said Dulin.
"These are questions we must consider. But I have decided to
follow the coordinates provided to us in the transport," said the War
Admiral. He illuminated them on the flashing map.
"That must be... that will take us more than two years to get
there!" said Dulin.
"Two years and four days, to be precise," said the War Admiral.
"And that's assuming we don't stop along the way except for an
occasional refueling. But isn't that what we're looking for? A source
of advanced technology that can help us defeat the Insects? Anyone that
can develop particle cannon technology may be able to help us develop
weapons to defeat the Insects. And whoever else is guiding them."
There was a buzz from the comm.
"Enter," said the War Admiral loudly. Idaho Took entered. "You
sent for me, War Admiral?"
"So I did," said the War Admiral. He looked at Dulin and Wren.
"If you two will excuse us please?"
Wren and Dulin filed out, giving Took an odd stare. Since when
did the War Admiral have private conferences with Took?
Took gave the War Admiral a so-what's-it-all-about look.
"I just wanted to thank you for uncovering the imposter's ruse so
quickly. Your timely action helped limit the disruption in unit morale
and cohesion."
"You're welcome, sir," said Took. He gave a broad smile. "Do I
get a medal for that?"
"Do you want a medal?" said the War Admiral. Whether he was
irritated, serious, or secretly amused, Took couldn't tell.
"Well, no, sir, that's not necessary, I have enough of those
already. There is only one thing I would really like-"
"An interview," said the War Admiral. "It's not as if you haven't
been asking me for what, years?"
"Just a short interview, War Admiral. I promise you'll come
across as very dignified-"
"I'll consider it," said the War Admiral curtly.
Took shrugged. Well, that was the best he had ever gotten out of
the War Admiral. The War Admiral nodded informally, indicating he was
dismissed.
Took turned to go, and turned back. "Just one last mystery
remaining, War Admiral."
"Yes?" said North.
"Why you picked me for this investigation?"
"Well, you did a quite capable job in the investigation of the
farm corruption several years ago, as I recall," said the War Admiral.
"So I did," said Took. "But I instigated that investigation; this
was different. You made a point to put me on this one, even though this
was a purely military matter, properly a job for internal security, who
was also investigating it."
"I knew you could come to the solution more quickly," said the
War Admiral, still appearing calm.
"Perhaps you also knew that I of all people would believe in your
innocence," said Took. "And perhaps you also knew that in investigating
this matter, not only would I be more likely to clear it up more
quickly, but that would preempt a more thorough investigation into the
possibility of your guilt."
"Are you saying that I did shoot Captain Shang?" said the War
Admiral.
"No, but by cutting the investigation short, we did leave a
number of smaller mysteries unsolved."
"Such as?" said the War Admiral.
"Why you ordered the marine guard away from your quarters. I
think some of the others assumed that your duplicate gave the order;
but I think you did," said Took.
"What if I did?" said the War Admiral.
"I did some discrete checking around," said Took. "In my capacity
as a discrete investigator. It's not the first time you've ordered
guards away from their post outside your door, especially late at
night."
The War Admiral said nothing.
"Furthermore, when the Captain and the Major came to your door,
you came out, but refused to let them in, as if there was something, or
someone you didn't want them to see," said Took. "That would also
explain why you ordered your marine guard away at certain times, to
prevent them from seeing what they shouldn't."
The War Admiral remained silent.
"If Major Fortran had continued his investigation, he would've
focused more on this. Oh, he probably knows that you've ordered the
guards away before, but he's never focused on the why of it. Or, to be
more precise, the who of it," said Took.
"And your conclusion?" said the War Admiral.
"My conclusion?" said Took. "It doesn't matter. The case is
closed, sir. We found the imposter. What else is there to know?" He
gave the War Admiral a meaningful look, and turned to leave.
"Took."
Took turned around.
"After everything has settled down again, maybe the middle of
next week, come and see me. I'll give you your interview," said the War
Admiral.
"Thank you, sir," said Took.
But they both knew whom was really thanking whom.
Chapter 8: Mutiny
From the Log of War Admiral Norman North, 9 years and 5 months after
Vitalics
I'm still turning the events of three months ago over in my mind. After
a little over two years of travel, we reached the coordinates specified
by the cargo ship we found. We arrived prepared for anything--a trap,
contact with an alien civilization, an Insect battlefleet--anything.
What we found was not what any of us expected: another giant
cargo ship, nearly identical to the first, filled to the brim with more
spare parts that we desperately needed. Yes, once again the ship's
inventory almost perfectly matched the kind of spare parts we
currently need.
Obviously we are either under close observation without realizing
it, or someone in the fleet is transmitting classified information
without our realizing it. I'm not sure which alternative is more
alarming. Whoever is supplying these parts is obviously trying to aid
us, at present, but it would be nice to know who they are and what
their agenda is. We've been provided with a new set of coordinates,
ones that will again take us approximately two years to reach, and
we've set a course in that direction.
It's a good a direction as any; I have to confess that after nine
years of searching we are no closer to locating Monumental technology
than we were when we started. But there is obviously an organization
out there who can help us, and I think it a better bet to seek them
out.
We continue to have run-ins with the Insects; like clockwork, it
occurs every nine to twelve months. If what the imposter told us is
correct, they continuously field several large fleets to seek us out,
and it's only a matter of time before we run into one. We've lost
several ships, but at least with some form of resupply we're able to
maintain the ones we have left.
But morale understandably low; after the let down of the
encounter with the second large cargo ship, many in the fleet
understandably feel we're not making progress, and the homesteading
movement is once again gaining strength. It's now been several months
since we encountered the second cargo vessel, and I am trying to relax
by taking up holographic painting. I'm not very good at it, but I have
a very good teacher: Commander Wren, who seems naturally gifted at it.
As we spend more and more time together, and our relationship has
become more and more a matter of public knowledge to the crew, I have
misgivings about keeping her attached to the Glory. It is simply not
proper for a senior officer to have a relationship with a more junior
officer directly under his command. And yet, if I transferred her to
another ship, we'd have less time together, and visits would have to be
much more public. For now, I'm leaving things as they are.
"Sensors confirmed, it's habitable," said Obe.
"Oh no," Took groaned in his cockpit. "Can't we pretend that we
just didn't see it, or something?"
"You know the drill," said Obe. "Let's report in."
"Let's wait," said Took. "Let's get closer so we can give a
complete report."
"We're going to have to give a report sometime," warned Obe.
"I know, but... everytime we find a habitable world, the
homesteaders start acting up," said Took.
"I know," Obe sighed. "I can't blame them. I'm tired of being
locked up inside a metal can too."
"And you think I'm not?" said Took. "But you remember what the
War Admiral said, and you know it's true. The bugs will come after us
wherever we go. The only difference is that if they find us defenseless
on a planet, we'll be wiped out."
"They haven't seem to have let up," Obe agreed. "But that hasn't
stopped the homesteader movement from growing. And it's not just ex-
Directorate people, but even some of our League officers."
"Let's take a closer look," said Took. "If we're lucky, we'll
find something poisonous in the atmosphere."
But at that moment an indicator popped up on Took's scanning
screen. "We're being scanned!"
"From where?" said Obe.
"The planet," said Took.
"Impossible," said Obe. "I'm not reading any signs of power
generation or installations on the surface. Just lower level vegetation
and animal life."
Their comms crackled. "Attention spacecrafts. Identify yourself."
For a moment, Took was tempted to automatically respond with his
ID. But all he did was push the transmit button and say, "You first."
Obe, in his cockpit, looked over at Took as if to say, "Great one
liner."
"Are you human?" said the human sounding voice.
"Yes," said Took. "And you?"
"Humans," said the voice. "It has been a long, long time since we
have heard from other humans."
"That's nice," said Took. He decided it was time to take a
chance. "My name is Command Captain Idaho Took of Alliance Command
Carrier Glory. Ah... do you have a similarly long name or title?"
"No," came the voice. "Just a moment."
The comm went dead.
"Just a moment he said," said Took. "He's probably looking for a
business card."
"Or getting ready to attack," said Obe. "Iday! Check your scans
of the planet!"
Before their eyes, their readings changed. Where before they
detected nothing but forrests and wilderness, now they were detecting a
small agricultural settlement generating minimal amounts of power on
the northern continent.
"How did we miss that?" said Took.
The comm sputtered to life. "Command Captain Took, are you
there?"
"Yep," said Took.
"I have just conferred with the council of elders. It's been
decided to invite you down to the surface. Are you capable of landing?"
"Ever since my 15th birthday," said Took. "Would you mine telling
me who and what you are before we come down?"
"We are what you might call a colony, established nearly 50 years
ago," said the voice. "My name is Ingore."
"50 years ago? How did you get out this far? And why didn't we
detect you on our sensors?"
"I'll be happy to explain everything when you land," said Ingore.
"Right," said Took. "See you soon." He switched to the narrowband
squadron frequency. "Buddy, what do you think?"
"A colony, this far out?" said Obe. "Trap."
"Trap," Took agreed. "Well, we'd better signal the Glory before
we walk right into it." He adjusted a dial to boost his transmission
signal.
"A colony? This far out?" said the War Admiral.
"Unlikely," said Captain Dulin. "Captain Took suspects a trap."
"I do too," said the War Admiral. "Tell him to proceed."
"Sir?"
"If the Insects have gone through the effort to construct a
colony in order to trap us, I don't think they'll settle for killing
two of our pilots, even if one of them is the illustrious Captain
Took," said the War Admiral. "And I'd like to find out more about
exactly what kind of trap it is. It can give us insight into what the
Insects are not only planning now, but what they may be planning in the
future."
Took and Obe slowly climbed down from their cockpits. They had
landed in a field just outside the main settlement. A small crowd of
people wearing robes stood nearby, watching them curiously, even with a
sense of awe.
Took and Obe walked over to them, a little awed themselves. The
villagers looked dirty and worn out, but they also definitely looked
human. And they weren't armed, except a few with long walking sticks.
Took and Obe walked forward until they were a few feet away, then
they stopped. The villagers continued to stare uncomfortably at them.
Finally, after it became clear that none of them would say anything,
Took said, "Take me to your leader."
That broke the spell. One of them stepped forward. "I am Ingore,"
he said.
"Iday Took, Kato Obe," said Took. "I'm very surprised to see you.
You're the first humans outside our own fleet we've seen in some time."
"And you're the first humans outside our own group that we've
seen in fifty years," said Ingore. "Come to the village meeting place,
we will talk."
They followed his lead through the fields, animal pens, and
thatched huts. It looked like a very simple agrarian community. Smelled
like one, too. "Pretty low-tech here," Took commented, wrinkling his
nose.
"By choice," said Ingore. "That's why we left the Alliance."
"Hm," said Took, busy taking in all the sights around him.
They reached a large hut with a thatched roof. Inside was a
smooth wooden table with wooden chairs. Took hadn't seen real wood in
years. He gingerly sat down on one of them, feeling he was sitting on
an antique. Other elders sat down at the table, as did Ingore.
"May we ask more specifically why you left the Alliance, and how
you came out here?" Took inquired.
Ingore smiled. "We rejected the highly technological, and
preferred to live a simpler life, closer to the earth. Ironically many
of us who felt that way were scientists. We purchased our own ship and
came out here."
"It's a mighty long distance to come just for some privacy," said
Took.
"We didn't want to be contaminated by outside influences, outside
technology."
"And yet you invited us down," said Took.
"So we did," Ingore sighed. "The first such invitation we've ever
given. You have to understand, Mr. Took, that there are only fifty of
us here. We value the community that we've built, but over time we've
also missed news and contact with the outside world. What has happened?
Has the Alliance expanded out this far yet?"
Took and Obe exchanged glances. "Not exactly," said Took.
"Are you part of an expedition?"
"You might say that," said Took. "We're part of the last
survivors."
"Survivors?"
"A race of beings called the Insects conqueror the Alliance
nearly ten years ago," said Took. "They destroyed the fleet, almost all
of it, anyway, and occupied our worlds. The remnants of our fleet
gathered together and fled Alliance space. We're representatives of
that fleet."
The elders started murmuring amongst themselves worriedly.
"Humanity... destroyed?" said Ingore.
"Or enslaved," said Took. "We haven't been back home to check in
a while."
"So you are... looking for a place to settle, is that it?"
"Ah, not exactly," said Took.
"Well, you can't settle here," said Ingore. "Go back and tell
your leaders that. We value our privacy. We wish you well, but don't
want an influx of new settlers."
"That's quite all right, we're not the settling down type," said
Took. "We just want some information. Have you seen any Insect ships
pass by in the past several months?"
"Insect?"
"Well, maybe that answers my question," said Took. "Come to think
of it, how did you manage to stay hidden? On our first pass our sensors
didn't-"
"A feat of ingenuity that I'm proud to say I helped develop,"
said Ingore. "The one piece of technology we tolerate. A cloaking
shield which gives sensors the impression that this is empty forest
land."
"Very handy," said Took. An idea occurred to him. "I don't
suppose you'd be willing to show us how you do it? We could perhaps
trade you-"
"No, I'm sorry, but we do not share the secrets of this
technology with outsiders," said Ingore firmly. "If knowledge of our
technology were to be disseminated, others might figure out how to
penetrate our camouflage shield."
"Wouldn't want that," said Took, grimacing. Well, it was worth a
try.
"So let me make sure I understand," said the War Admiral. "A
group of scientists set out from the Alliance fifty years ago in search
of an agrarian lifestyle. They don't want to be contaminated by other
societies that do use technology, so they fly for ten years into
uncharted space, and then, to top it off, they use a cloaking shield to
further protect their privacy."
Took and Obe were testifying at a gathering of the fleet
captains. It was one of the few times he had ever been invited to such
a meeting. He wondered if he could pick up a few interviews with some
of the fleet captains afterwards.
"Sounds like overkill to me," grunted Captain Harkness of the
Blue Luna. "They could have picked a planet a few months outside of
Alliance space, or even inside an Alliance space, and not even be found
for years."
"I also think it's odd that a society that so desperately wants
to avoid technology is uses technology, even to protect itself," said
another captain.
The War Admiral reclined in his war room chair. The camouflage
shield was part of the puzzle, but what that part was he hadn't yet
figured out. "And you say they don't want us to settle there?"
"They brought up the subject, and made a point of saying they
don't want us to settle there," said Took.
"They did, did they?" said the War Admiral.
"In fact, they specifically told me to tell you that."
"Hm," said the War Admiral. "In the trap I'm imagining, they
would want us to come down and colonize."
"But they wouldn't want to appear too eager," said Captain Perko
Gale of the fast attack destroyer Always Ready.
"Correct," said the War Admiral
"You're assuming that this is a trap," said Captain Bennett of
the Amory Til.
"That's the operating assumption," the War Admiral agreed.
"I think we need to investigate the matter further before we come
to any firm conclusion," said Bennett.
"For once, Captain, I agree with you," said North. "That's why I
propose to send a medical and tech team down there to see if they
really are what they appear to be."
"A team from the Glory?" Bennett asked.
"Yes, Captain," said the War Admiral.
"Sir, I propose a more balanced team," said Bennett. "These
recons are almost always performed by Glory officers. I think our
survey teams would benefit by having crewmembers participate from other
ships."
The War Admiral considered, but just for a second. "Very well,
Captain. Would you like to send a team from the Amory Til to accompany
them?"
"That I would, War Admiral."
"Very well," said the War Admiral. "We're adjourned." He pressed
a button, and the holographic representations of the fleet admirals
faded, leaving him alone in the room with Dulin, Wren, Took, and Obe.
"Sir are you going to let-" Took was cut off by the deceptively
calm stare of the War Admiral.
"I want you to accompany the tech team," said the War Admiral.
"Since you made the initial contact, you'd be an ideal liaison."
"Somehow, I don't think that's the only reason," said Took,
waiting for the inevitable.
"And while you're there, use your good journalistic instincts to
snoop around while the others keep the colonists occupied," said the
War Admiral. "Dismissed."
When Obe and Took filed out, Dulin and Wren stayed behind.
"Sir, I didn't want to speak up in front of Captain Took, but I
agreed with his sentiment. You let Captain Bennett get away with too
much, especially in front of the other captains."
"It's a delicate balance, Captain," said the War Admiral. "Too
little pressure, and he runs amok and ruins discipline. Too much
pressure, and we'll have a split in the ranks." He turned away. "But
you're right about one thing. The time is fast approaching when we're
going to have to deal with Captain Bennett."
As Took piloted the transport into the atmosphere, he noticed the
shuttle from the Amory Til had already streaked ahead of them. "They're
in a hurry, aren't they?" Took muttered.
But the real surprise came when they landed and everyone
disembarked from their ships--from the transport, the tech and medical
crew, and a couple of marines; and from the shuttle--none other than
Captain Bennett himself and two of his men.
"What's he doing here?" Obe whispered.
"Do you have something to say, Lieutenant?" said Bennett, walking
over. If he didn't like the War Admiral, he certainly didn't like the
War Admiral's trained pets. And there was something additional about
Took that rubbed him the wrong way.
"Ah, he wasn't saying anything sir, just that he was delighted to
see you," said Took, giving a little smile. Although Bennett outranked
him, he didn't fear him.
"Can we get on with this?" growled Doctor Farb, hefting a
shoulder bag filled with equipment.
"You have returned," said Ingore, giving Took a broad smile.
"Yes, I-"
Bennett stepped in front of Took. "My name is Captain Michael
Bennett, I'm in command here."
"But Mr. Took is also a Captain, is he not?" said Ingore,
puzzled.
While Bennett was explaining the confusion between spaceforce and
naval ranks, Took whispered, "While the commodore here is making second
contact, keep your ears open."
"Where are you going?" Obe whispered back.
Took gave a mischievous smile and turned to go.
"Yes, you can go too, Lieutenant," said Bennett to Obe, glad to
see them go.
"Afraid not," said Took, turning back. "Lieutenant Obe is a
trained diplomat, having spent decades in the foreign service before
joining the navy."
Obe barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"I am ordering you both to leave. You're dismissed!" said
Bennett, a glare burning in his eyes.
Took stared back, giving an irritating smile. "You're very good
with that, you should get that look patented."
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please, no arguing," said Ingore gently.
Took gave Bennett a sarcastic salute and headed off.
He checked in first with the agro workers. "What do we have
here?" he asked, pointing to one of the fields.
"Looks like potatoes," said one of the techs.
"Ha ha, very funny," said Took. "Have you learned anything
useful?"
"Other than the fact that from our readings these are common
sixty day potatoes, and that they were planted two weeks ago, no."
Another tech approached from a field down the road. "Same thing
there," the second tech said. "It looks like they all did their
plantings two weeks ago."
"Anything unusual in that?" said Took.
"No," said the first tech. He scanned the soil. "That's odd,
though."
"What?"
"This soil is very rich."
"Meaning...."
"Either there's something unusual about the soil, or this is the
very first crop that they've planted on this spot," said the tech.
Took raised an eyebrow. "Scan the surrounding area. They may
rotate among different fields. See if you can spot any areas that have
been plowed before. And don't go anywhere without a marine guard" He
turned, and spotting Doctor Farb looking annoyed, walked over to him.
"What's up, doc?"
"These fine farmers won't permit me to conduct a medical
examination."
"We're fine," said one farmer.
"We're all fine," said a second farmer dully.
"Why not let the doc check you out?" said Took. "You should
always get a routine physical once every 50 years, just to be safe."
"No," said the farmer. "No electrical equipment. He can examine
us, but no scanners. It's our beliefs, you understand."
"I'm beginning to," said Took.
Took wandered around for the next hour, checking out the farming
community. Everything seemed completely ordinary. So this is the life
that Captain Bennett wanted them all to live. To homestead and become
simple farmers. Really boring. Personally, Took would rather take his
chances with the Insects in space.
As he wandered around the outskirts of the village a small
building caught his eye. Small, but clearly, unlike the others, made of
metal. Using his hand scanner, he tried to see what was inside of it.
But whatever was in there was shielded.
"What are you doing?" said a farmer, smiling pleasantly as he
walked up to Took.
"Just looking around," said Took.
"No electronics, please," said the farmer, looking disapprovingly
at Took's scanner. Took took one more look at his scanner that gave him
a small surprise, then set the save button to record his readings, and
then reluctantly closed the scanner down.
"Better?"
"Much," said the farmer placidly.
"Mind if I ask what's inside there?"
"That's the building containing the only electrical device in the
colony," said the farmer. "Our camouflage device."
"Mind if I take a quick look?"
"Entry is forbidden."
"All right," said Took. He would've been really interested to go
inside, but at this point, it wasn't really necessary, not after the
readings he had obtained on his scanner.
Took walked back to the council hut, where the elders were just
breaking up after what looked like a big meeting.
"It's decided," said Ingore, smiling graciously. "We approve."
"Approve what?" said Took, unsure whether to ask Ingore, or turn
to Obe, who was trying to get his attention. Bennett was ignoring him
entirely.
"We will permit you to settle here, in the valley several miles
to the south," said Ingore.
"Really? Only yesterday you were telling us you didn't want us
here," said Took.
"Forgive my manners," said Ingore. "I wasn't entirely aware of
your plight. Your Captain Bennett has told us the touching story of how
you have been hunted by these insect creatures, and how many of you
have been wounded and killed. As it is a matter of life or death, we
will permit you to have refuge here. You must establish settlements of
your own and do your own farming, you understand, and respect our ways,
but we will accept you and use our camouflage shield to protect you, so
that you may live in peace."
"We can start bringing down transports with supplies and crew
almost immediately," said Bennett.
"Ah, Captain, aren't you forgetting one little thing?" said Took.
Bennett glared at him.
"The chain of command? Doesn't the War Admiral have to approve
any general disembarkation?"
"You let me worry about him, little man," said Bennett. Nodding
to Ingore, he said, "We'll speak again." And he turned and left for his
shuttle.
"I'm five foot ten inches tall, and that's without my boots,"
said Took. "That's plenty tall. Why does everyone taller than six feet
feel they have free license to call me "little man"?"
"Took, don't you think we have bigger things to worry about?"
"You're right, buddy," said Took. "Let's collect the crew and get
back to the shuttle." Took spoke into his wrist comm and ordered the
others to gather at the landing site. "I remember, though, what
happened to the last guy who called me 'little man'."
He was referring to the ex-farming director, Odusk, who was
currently enjoying a comfort suite in the Glory's brig, as he had the
past few years.
"Very interesting," said the War Admiral. "Very interesting
indeed. A farming community that's been on the planet for forty years
and yet has only been farming for two weeks. A community with not a
single sick person and all refuse to have a routine medical scan." He
turned to Took. "And most interesting of all, a metallurgical analysis
of the building containing their precious camouflage field shows that
the building was forged sometime in the last year."
"Obviously a trap," said Captain Dulin.
"Obviously, a trap," said the War Admiral. "The moment we leave
our ships and settle down, that's when the Insects will come for us."
"We should leave immediately," said Wren.
"There's no hurry," said the War Admiral. "I'm sure that the
fleet that's waiting for us will suddenly appear if we head out of
orbit."
"But... there's no purpose in staying," said Dulin.
"There just might be one," said the War Admiral calmly.
The holographic image of Captain Shang looked thoughtful as he
sat in Captain Bennett's office on the Amory Til. "I don't know,
Captain."
"This could be our last chance!" said Bennett. "Think about it,
Feng. Every time we've proposed settling down somewhere, the War
Admiral has always thrown his 'they will hunt us down and shoot us'
argument at us. But for the first time he doesn't have this argument to
use against us. We'll be well protected by the camouflage shield."
"We don't know that for sure."
"Nothing is for sure!" Bennett thundered. "But this is the best
chance we'll have to settle down! A hospitable planet, friendly allies,
and technology to protect us. What more can you ask for?"
"It's not that simple," said Shang. "You're asking me to mutiny
against the War Admiral." He looked sharply to the side. "Is this line
still secure?"
"Scrambling every tenth of a second," said Bennett, checking an
instrument pad. "It's not mutiny--we're not taking over, and, strictly
speaking, we're not properly under his command. We're Directorate
officers, and he's League, you know that, Shang."
"But the Alliance-"
"The Alliance died ten years ago at Vitalics," said Bennett.
"What we're talking about is a chance to live! Do you want to spend the
rest of your life on the run from the Insects! Every time they engage
us, we lose more and more ships and men. You know it's just a matter of
time before we're all dead. This is your last chance--will you take
it?"
Shang nodded reluctantly. "All right. I'm in."
"Good. I'll be in touch soon." Bennett terminated the signal, and
then called the next officer.
Captain Harkness of the Blue Luna.
Bennett generally preferred to contact Directorate officers who
he knew would be sympathetic; but there were a few League officers who
he thought might also join up. Harkness has never shown much sympathy
to the homesteader movement, but neither did he openly attack them; and
Bennett remembered that he was among the first officer to request that
the War Admiral step aside during the imposter incident several years
back. Whatever he was, Harkness was a free thinker, and might be open
to persuasion. And the Blue Luna was the third biggest ship in the
fleet, after the Amory Til and of course the Glory. It would be worth
the risk to try and swing him over to their side.
"What are you talking about?" Harkness frowned.
It wasn't going well from the start. Bennett decided to try one
more time. "This may be our only chance for survival."
Harkness grunted. "I'm a soldier. I don't think I'd be much of a
farmer."
"At least you'd be alive," Bennett pointed out. "And not everyone
will have to farm."
"Ok, but how can you be so sure this is on the level? The War
Admiral thinks it's a trap."
"He thinks anything that will dilute his power is a trap," said
Bennett. Then, seeing the expression on Harkness's face, he changed
tact. "He's a brilliant soldier. But he's not empowered to make this
kind of non-military decision."
"Are you saying we should mutiny?" said Harkness.
Obviously, Harkness would not be persuaded. Time to back up and
obfuscate. "Of course not," said Bennett soothingly. "I was only
thinking of presenting a united front to the War Admiral, to try and
persuade him otherwise. I would never consider taking action without
his approval."
"Hm," said Harkness. Bennett couldn't tell if he believed.
"All right," said Harkness, not giving anything away. "Let me
give it some thought."
"You do that," said Bennett, relieved, signing off.
Harkness did think about it, for a full hour, which was a long
time for him. He was a free thinker, but one who came to quick
decisions. Then he called the War Admiral.
"They're obviously plotting some kind of mutiny, War Admiral,"
said Harkness. "Just thought you'd like to know."
"I appreciate the warning, Captain," said the War Admiral, acting
totally nonplussed.
"What are you going to do?" said Harkness.
"We'll talk about it at the fleet meeting tomorrow morning," said
the War Admiral.
"A fleet meeting tomorrow morning? Admiral, this has gone way
beyond-"
"I appreciate your concern," said the War Admiral. "North out."
"He's right, sir," said Dulin, standing out of range of the image
North had been transmitting.
"I second that, sir," said Wren.
"I appreciate your opinions," said the War Admiral. "Please
return to your posts."
Dulin and Wren filed out of his office. "He's really keeping his
cards close to his chest on this one," said Wren.
"I'm sure the War Admiral knows what he's doing," said Dulin. "I
hope," he muttered, mostly to himself.
Everyone was in attendance at the fleet captain's meeting North
had called the following morning. "And this evidence should prove, I
think, that this is an elaborate trap set for us by the Insects. I
propose now that we move on-"
"Just a moment, War Admiral," said Captain Bennett.
The War Admiral permitted himself to look surprised. "Yes
Captain?"
"We haven't finished discussing this topic," said Bennett. He
took a deep breath, and launched into a speech. "I have seen this
settlement firsthand and met with their leaders, and I can tell you
all, this is no trap. In fact, this may be our best hope to live the
rest of our lives in peace. I think you see a trap because you want to.
I think you are so headstrong in favor of this fruitless quest you've
had us on for the past ten years that you can't take a step back and
realize that there's another alternative. We haven't found any useful
Monumental technology and we never will. All we've done is lose lives
as we've been hunted down by the Insects. This may be our only chance
to save the rest of our remaining lives."
He looked at the War Admiral, waiting for an explosion.
But the War Admiral took it calmly. "What do you propose?" he
asked.
"A choice," said Bennett, surprised that the War Admiral wasn't
putting up more of a fight. "Let the ships that want to disembark,
disembark. Those that want to go on, can go on."
"And how will each ship decide?" The War Admiral asked.
"By each captain, of course," said Bennett.
"Of course," said the War Admiral. "And if any of the crew have a
different opinion?"
"Well, they can transfer to another ship, I suppose," said
Bennett. He hadn't considered that point.
"I respect your opinion, Captain," said the War Admiral. "But
it's just that--your opinion."
"Not just mine, War Admiral," said Bennett.
"Really?" said the War Admiral. "Who else shares your view?" It
was as if they were debating an abstract, scholarly subject. "Don't be
shy," said the War Admiral. "Stand up!" he said, his voice hardening.
A few fleet captains stood up, and then a few more, some of them
very hesitantly. "Is that all?" said the War Admiral. "What about the
merchant captains?"
"We have convinced some of those as well," said Bennett.
"Well, by all means, let's bring them in and hear what they have
to say," said the War Admiral, looking annoyed. It was obvious that he
was going to try to use the force of his personality to browbeat them
into submission, but it wouldn't help, this time.
There was an awkward silence while the merchant captains were
patched in. When their images materialized in the war room it was
positively crowded. "For those of you who just joined us lately-" began
the War Admiral acidly. He quickly explained the situation, and ask
those who supported Bennett's position to stand up as well. And a
number of them did.
"You see, War Admiral, it simply isn't my opinion," said Bennett.
"Yes," said the War Admiral. "Your dangerous opinion is shared by
many." He turned to the captains whose holographic images were
standing. "You still want to embark on this, even though you know it's
almost certainly a trap? You heard the report about the potatoes;
they've only been farming for two weeks! You heard the metallurgy
report; that building is only a few months old! Can't you see that this
is clearly a trap!"
"You present this information as if it's conclusive," said
Bennett. "We haven't done conclusive studies of the soil; it may not
lose as much nutrients in each replanting as ours does. As for the
building, that's not conclusive either; they could have built a new
building to replace an old one that they tore down. Maybe you can
explain, War Admiral, how likely it is that the Insects would pore an
incredible amount of resources into creating a phony colony, and how
likely it is that they'd be able to convincingly brainwash fifty
people, and furthermore, how likely it is that they'd know exactly
which planet we'd stop by."
"We've already see them put an incredible amount of resources
into hunting us down, that's not new," the War Admiral responded. "As
for brainwashing or mental control, it's been done before. Don't forget
that none of them would let Doctor Farb examine them. As for the last
point, I don't know how they knew we were coming here, but it's obvious
that they did."
He looked at each of the wavering fleet captains, pacing back and
forth among them. "At the end, it all comes down to trust. You all know
I have saved each of your lives countless times. You have trusted my
judgment, my instincts, for years, putting your lives in my hands. I
say once more, trust me again! If you leave us here, we will not be
able to return to protect you. The Insects will come and slaughter you
not in weeks, or months, but days." He stopped, standing nearest the
captains he thought might be wavering the most. "I can't tell you what
will happen if you stay with us. But if you leave the fleet, I am
certain what your fate will be. You will die. Period. I ask you, one
last time, trust me now!" He turned to one captain standing up. "Will
you trust me?"
That captain, looking chagrined, slowly sat down.
"Will you trust me?" said the War Admiral, moving to another--who
also slowly sat down.
He went down the row, fixing each of them with the stare, asking
each the same question. In the end seven sat down, leaving 16 standing-
-16, out of 71 captains in the fleet.
"All right, you've had your say," said Bennett. He had been
nervous that even more captains would back down.
"What are your intentions?" the War Admiral said.
"We're going down to the planet," said Bennett. "We've decided."
The War Admiral looked down for a moment. Then he gave Bennett a
dark look. "And you expect me to sit back and let you do it?"
Bennett said nothing.
"I did that once," said the War Admiral. "Sat back and let things
happen. The result was tens of thousands, perhaps millions dead, and
the whole of humanity enslaved. I don't think I will let that happen
again."
"What are you going to do?" Bennett said. "You're not going to
fire on us."
North said nothing for a moment. Would he fire on them, or even
threaten to? A majority of the military ships were on his side, but
would they fire on their own ships, even if the War Admiral ordered him
to?
But they would never find out. "No, I will not fire on your
ships," said North, his head bowed in apparent defeat.
"Then I think we've finished our talk," said Bennett.
"I agree," said North. He raised his head and spoke into the air.
"NOW, Major Fortran!"
The holographic images of the fleet captains who were standing up
could be seen looking sharply to the side, and then, one by one, they
were pulled off-screen, to be replaced by a marine.
"Renown secured, sir," said one marine.
"Crawler secured, sir," reported another.
"Ratara secured, sir," said a third.
One by one they reported in.
"No, you can't do this!" said Bennett, as he was yanked from
view.
"Actually, I can," said the War Admiral. "You are all under
military arrest. You and your senior officers will be put under
preventative detention. You will not be allowed contact with any of
your crew, pending your transfer to the brig on the Glory."
One of the merchant captains who had stayed loyal muttered, "Was
this really necessary?"
Surprisingly, it was another captain who answered. "Of course it
was, you fool," said Captain Harkness. "If we lost a third of the
fleet, what do you think that would do for our chances of survival?"
North, nodding, said, "I'm going to be quite busy for the next
few hours, gentlemen. I'll be in touch soon," he promised.
"I understand now," said Wren. "You wanted Bennett to approach
the other officers first, so you could see who was loyal and who
wasn't."
"And you prepositioned Major Fortran's men on the ships most
likely to go over to his side," said Dulin. "Masterful job, War
Admiral."
"Thank you," said the War Admiral. "But now we have a mess on our
hands. Where do we find 16 loyal captains to replace them? We know
about the disloyalty of these men, but what about their bridge
officers? How far down does the trouble go? Right now I have a handful
of marines on each ship's bridge and engineering section, but if the
trouble spreads, they could easily be overpowered."
"I suggest we not worry about the crews for now, War Admiral,"
said Dulin. "We couldn't replace them even if we wanted to."
"Quite right," said the War Admiral. He paused a moment, making a
decision. "Set up interviews with the senior officers on each ship. Try
to get a sense of who is loyal and who isn't."
"And what do we do with each group?"
"The disloyal officers, those who won't recommit to their oaths,
will be stripped of their rank and sent to perform civilian duty on the
merchant ships. If they like the idea of farming so much, they'll get
their chance. Then leave about half of the so-called loyal officers
where they are, and arrange a schedule to have them swap positions with
officers on loyal ships. We're going to have to promote some first
officers on the loyal ships to become captains on the vacant ships, so
there will be some openings."
"So you hope by integrating the potentially disloyal officers,
you can limit their ability to do damage."
"Precisely," said the War Admiral. "If they're on a ship with a
loyal crew, there's a limit to what they can do. We don't have time for
anything more. In fact, I want this done in eight hours."
"Eight hours?" said Dulin. "Impossible!"
"Any more than that and we risk bringing the Insect fleet down on
us," said the War Admiral. "If we don't take the bait soon they're
going to come anyway. And when they do we're going to need trained
crews in place."
"And what do we do with the disloyal captains?"
"Leave them to me," said the War Admiral.
"Yes, we're really excited about coming down to the planet," said
Took, over the comm.
"Where's Captain Bennett?" came Ingore's voice.
"He's busy, uh, packing," said Took. "We have a lot of equipment
to bring. The first shipment should start coming down in twelve hours."
"All right," said Ingore. "But I'd like to hear from Captain
Bennett soon."
"I'm sure you will," said Took. He closed the comm, and received
a nod from the War Admiral.
"Is there any way we can help them?"
"Assuming they're under some form of mind control or
conditioning, the minute we went down to the planet to grab them, we'd
spring whatever trap is waiting for us," said the War Admiral. "There
could be whole battalions of Insect troopers waiting below the
surface." He looked thoughtful. "No, their fate was sealed, like
everyone else's, the minute we agreed to meet the Insects at Vitalics."
The interviewing process proceeded quickly. Captain Dulin
reported in to the War Admiral. "Only a handful have refused to retake
the oath. I'm afraid a number of disloyal ones will slip through."
"Well, there's nothing we can do about that right now," said the
War Admiral. "Perhaps their attitudes will change after the events of
the next two days unfold." He didn't elaborate further. "Do you have
the duty lists and transfers ready?"
"Here's a rough draft," said Dulin. Normally, high level
transfers were considered for hours, by a committee. Here they were
proposing to transfer dozens of senior officers to dozens of ships with
just a few minutes of consideration.
"That will have to do," said the War Admiral, studying the pad
Dulin handed him. "But this won't work," he frowned, pointing at one
entry. For the new captain of the Amory Til.
"She's the logical choice, sir," said Dulin. "In fact, there is
no one else suited to command a half-carrier."
The War Admiral said, "I can think of someone else, Captain. If
you're up for it."
"WHAT?" said Wren.
"It's not polite to yell at your commanding officer," said the
War Admiral mildly.
"You want me to take command of the Glory?" said Wren. "You only
promoted me to full commander a few years ago!"
"I agree under normal circumstances that this wouldn't occur for
another two decades, but circumstances aren't normal. Experienced ship
officers are rare; Experienced ship officers who know something about
command carriers number only two. Yourself, and Captain Dulin."
"Then why not keep Roger here and put me in charge of the Amory
Til? The Amory Til is a smaller ship, it's like a demotion for Roger."
"A smaller ship filled with smaller, more rebellious minds," said
the War Admiral. "It's a much more difficult assignment, which is why
we need the more experienced officer there."
"Is that all?" said Wren.
North didn't answer, didn't even pretend not to understand what
she was talking about.
"Is that all?" she whispered.
North turned away, looking out the window. "I don't know," he
said slowly. "My decision definitely makes logical sense, and yet,
where you're concerned..." he slowly turned and looked back at her. "I
warned you something like this could happen when we became...
involved." He paused, then said, "Would you really prefer to go to the
Amory Til in Roger's place?"
Wren didn't say anything. Then, in a small voice, "No. No, I
really wouldn't."
A stunned silence broke out in the Glory's brig when the War
Admiral entered. The 16 former captains and handful of other senior
officers glared out at the War Admiral behind a forcefield.
"I really wish it hadn't come to this," said the War Admiral. "If
the fate of the remainder of the human race hadn't been at stake, I
might have let you have your own way." And then his voice hardened.
"But it wasn't just a matter of letting you go to your deaths, but your
crews, too. What shall I do with you now?"
"We're entitled to a trial, War Admiral," said one Captain.
"We're under martial law, I and I alone will chair any tribunal,"
said the War Admiral. "I ask again, what should I do with all of you?"
His only answer was silence.
"The penalty for mutiny is still death," said the War Admiral.
"I'm not a military officer," said one of the captains, who had
been in charge of one of the merchant ships.
"But you're under military command," said the War Admiral. "Where
was I? Yes, the death penalty."
"If you're going to kill us, just get it over with," snapped
Shang. The others spoke up in a babble of voices.
"Quiet!" the War Admiral thundered. "Or are the rest of you as
eager to die as former Captain Shang?"
The cellblock was silent again.
"Good," said the War Admiral. "As I said, the traditional penalty
for mutiny is death by firing squad. However, the military penal code
does permit me to commute the sentence in the case of mitigating
circumstances." He hardened both his voice and his gaze. "Are there any
mitigating circumstances?"
"What do you want?" said Captain Bennett, speaking for the first
time since the War Admiral entered the cellblock.
"A message to each of your crews, assuring them you're all right,
telling them you accept the full blame for what happened, and advising
them to cooperate with us," said the War Admiral.
"In return for?"
The War Admiral stared at Bennett. "20 years for the others; 30
for you."
"30 years? In here? Forget it!" said Bennett.
The War Admiral shrugged. "You each have two hours to prepare for
your executions." He turned to leave.
The first cries came before he had taken his first step. In the
end, no one was executed.
The War Admiral entered the bridge.
"Captain," he said by way of greeting.
Captain Stacy Wren nodded, looking self-consciously for a moment
at the additional full strip on her shoulderboards and sleeves. "War
Admiral."
"Are the crew readjustments complete?"
"Yes sir," said Wren. "The fleet is ready and awaiting your
command."
"Activate holomap."
"Yes sir," said the newly promoted Half Commander Fletcher. The
three dimensional map appeared in the center of the bridge.
"There are three neighboring systems where the Insect fleet may
be waiting for us," said the War Admiral. No one even thought to
challenge his assessment that the Insects were waiting for them.
"Naturally, the Insects have us under surveillance, so the
instant we break orbit, they will attack," said the War Admiral. "But
it's important we don't move towards the system where their fleet is
waiting for us." He stared at the screen intently, and then pressed a
button, causing one of the solar systems to flash. "They're waiting for
us there," he said quietly. "And that means we have a chance to escape,
at least for now, if we plot this course," he added, drawing a path
with an electrowand.
"Set a course, Captain, and engage," said the War Admiral.
"Aye sir!"
The fleet moved out along the trajectory the War Admiral had set
forth. Less than an hour later, they detected movement, from the very
solar system the War Admiral had warned them of.
"Long range detects several battleships... battlecruisers...
heavy and light cruisers... destroyers... several carriers," said
Lieutenant Shishman.
"We'll be able to elude them in the NG-149 gas cloud we're
heading for," said the War Admiral.
"How did you know they weren't waiting for us in NG-149? And how
did you know which system they were waiting in?" Wren asked.
"I guess," said the War Admiral, "It comes down to a matter of
trust."
The briefing was projected to the rest of the fleet the next day,
when they were safely inside the nebula and had eluded their pursuers.
It was broadcast to every holoprojector of every ship of the fleet.
"As far as we could tell there were 68 ships in that attack
fleet," said the War Admiral. "Including a large number of heavy
battleships, flat tops, and other support ships. For years many of you
have been asking the question, 'what if we just settled down on a
planet? Would the Insects come after us'? I think now you have your
answer. They are so desperate to destroy us that they fabricated an
entire colony at tremendous expense to themselves. One thing I think we
can all agree upon; if we stop, we die. We have no choice but to go on.
I hope this, once and for all, finishes the debate about homesteading."
Later, in his quarters, Wren said, "That was a masterful speech."
"Half of being an officer is giving masterful speeches," said the
War Admiral. "But I think this will prove to anyone except the most
hardcore of the homesteaders that settling down on a planet is
impossible now. Ironically, the Insects have made us stronger, by
removing this as an issue of debate."
"Have they?" said Wren. "We have an awful lot of new captains
with unhappy crews."
"The crews will settle down, now that they realize that there
isn't another viable option. Once you defeat an opposing ideology, the
followers tend to drop away."
Wren smiled at him, pouring herself another drink. "All except
the ones in the brig, of course."
"Of course," said the War Admiral. "It still pains me though that
two of the eighteen, two League captains, two of my people, defected to
the other side."
"You always tend to look on the dismal side of things," said
Wren, snuggling up to him in bed. "What about the overwhelming majority
of your captains who didn't desert you? After all they had been
through, it's amazing they haven't all mutinied or gone AWOL by now.
It's only been the force of your personality that's held them all
together."
"Very flattering," said the War Admiral, always unable to take a
compliment. "But-"
Puffy, sitting in a corner eyeing them, barked approvingly.
"See? If you don't believe me, believe your pseudo-pet," said
Wren.
"I can't counter an argument like that," the War Admiral
admitted.
Chapter 9: Peace, Love, And Happiness
From the Log of War Admiral Norman North, 12 years and 10 months after
Vitalics
We continue in our search for Monumental artifacts. We have come across
a few promising leads but have not found anything substantial yet. We
continue along the path set fourth
by the latest large cargo vessel we found. As I indicated in my earlier
entries, the first large cargo ship led to a second one, and now the
second one has led to a third one, which we found last year. This too,
was filled with supplies and spare parts we sorely needed, and this
too, came with a set of another coordinates.
Obviously, our benefactor wants to keep us well supplied. Equally
obviously, our benefactor wants to keep us at arms length. I have not
been content with the situation and have been investigating leads to
determine the source of these large cargo ships, but it may take one or
two more rendezvous with additional cargo ships before I am able to
track their source.
The Insects continue to track us, using what we now know is their
particle cannon technology to launch new fleets from Alliance space to
hunt us down. We try to evade their ships as long as we can before
fighting them, knowing that any fleet we destroy is replaced by
another. But they have so many fleets hunting for us that we have to
fight a battle every few months, and slowly but surely that's taking a
toll on ships and crew. That's why it's vital we locate the source of
these cargo shipments, and I'm fairly confident of being able to do so
within the next shipment or two.
In the meantime, we barely eluded an Insect fleet last week.
They're pursuing us, and we have to try and avoid contact as long as
possible. To that end, I've launched long range scouts in every
direction.
"Bank left," said the Ken Pilot. "Now right. Left, left, right."
They tried to copy his maneuvers in their Wildcats, but he was
going way to quick for them.
"Aren't Graftonites supposed to lose their reflexes after they've
been off-planet for a while?" Took said.
"We do," said the Ken Pilot. "But even my slowed reaction times
are still faster than your pitifully slow ones."
Took sighed. Captain Wren had "suggested" that the Ken Pilot
attempt to teach them some of his piloting skills, but so far the only
thing rubbing off was resentment. What was even worse was the fact that
were it not for this little class he'd be out on point patrol right
now. Took knew they were coming up on a system with planetary bodies,
their first in over a week. He wished he could be out there.
Captain Chang-Wha of Wildcat "G" checked his sensors. "You
getting that, Baker?"
Baker, his wingman, nodded. "Habitable planet. We should check it
out for monuments."
The thought of homesteading no longer even occurred to them, or
anyone else in the fleet. Their experience with the Insect "farming
community" had convinced them all of that.
They orbited the planet. "Looks habitable," said Chang-Wha. "I'm
reading vegetation, lower level animal life, but no-"
Suddenly, a powerful feeling gripped him. Baker felt it too.
"I think we should check out the planet," said Chang-Wha slowly.
"Let's go down."
"Captain?"
"Yes Colonel?" said Captain Wren.
"Patrol 4 is overdue," said Colonel Darley.
"What was their last report?"
"They were closing in on system S-12897, had found a habitable
planet, and were going to check it out," said Darley.
Wren bit her lip, wondering if this was worth bothering the War
Admiral about. They were so short-handed now that she was forced to
take one watch in three, running two other watches with relatively
inexperienced officers--Half Commander Shishman and Half Commander
Kearse. The War Admiral didn't take a watch, but instead popped in on
all three watch periods, observing and occasionally making helpful
comments. Biting her lip, she made a decision. "War Admiral?" she said,
pressing the comm.
The War Admiral emerged from his office. Wren filled him in on
the situation.
"So they were either intercepted in space or something happened
to them on the planet," said the War Admiral. "Any signs of other ships
in the sector?"
"None," said Wren. "But they could be hiding behind that planet
in S-12897. And we're heading in that direction."
"Hm," said the War Admiral. He pressed the comm. "Fleet command,
this is War Admiral North. All stop." He turned to Wren. "Deploy a
rescue shuttle. Send a squadron of fighters to back them up."
"Do you want me to send Wildcat "A"?" said Wren. "They're still
in training."
The War Admiral considered. "Who's on standby right now?"
"Ben Hunter with Wildcat "B"."
"That will do fine," said the War Admiral.
"Where are they going?" Took grumbled, watching the squadron take
off as it escorted the shuttle.
A low powered laser burst exploded near his ship.
"Hey!" Took yelled.
"Don't let yourself be distracted," said the Ken Pilot. "Now, are
you going to even attempt to copy the maneuver I just performed, or
need I show it to you yet again?"
"Closing on the planet," came the shuttle pilot. "No sign of
debris."
"This is Hunter," came a different voice. "We've circled around
the planet. No sign of the enemy. I don't think they had any problem in
space."
"Picking up their ships on the planet," said the shuttle pilot.
"Descend," said Colonel Darley. "Hunter, have your squadron take
up position in orbit."
"Roger," said Captain Hunter.
"Patch me through to the shuttle commander," said the War
Admiral.
Lieutenant Fletcher nodded and pushed a button.
"Kirby, this is the War Admiral," said North.
"Sir."
"I want you to wear a surveillance brace when you land," said the
War Admiral. "I want to see everything you do."
"Yes sir."
In the shuttle, Kirby put on the wires and clippings that would
secure the small holocamera to his shoulder.
The shuttle touched down near the two Wildcats. They watched the
image on the main bridge holoprojector. It was expanded to maximum
size, so whatever Kirby was seeing twenty feet in front of him also
appeared in full three-dimensional color on the main bridge.
The image jerked slightly as Kirby walked in the field towards
the Wildcats. When he and his squad of marines got there he reported,
"They're empty, sir."
"Any signs where they may have gone?" said the War Admiral.
Kirby looked down. "I see footprints leading down into that
valley yonder. Squad! Form up!"
They walked down a moderate incline into a beautiful valley. It
was filled with flowers and trees and bushes and plants. Beautiful
birds chirped from the trees. A small stream winded its way through the
lush natural surroundings.
They found the two pilots sitting in the grass.
"Chang-Wha! Baker!" Kirby yelled, while keeping his eyes open for
an ambush.
Chang-Wha and Baker just sat there, oblivious to the approaching
marines. Their eyes were open, but it was as if they were asleep. They
were clearly gazing into the distance, with goofy smiles on their
faces.
"They seem to be drugged or hypnotized, sir," said Kirby. He put
an arm on Chang-Wha's shoulder and shook him; Chang-Wha's expression
didn't change in the slightest.
"Get them out of there and withdraw," the War Admiral snapped.
Something definitely wasn't right here.
"Don't be in such a hurry," said a soft, feminine voice.
Kirby, and the camera on his shoulder, turned to see a woman in a
green gown. The woman was slim, attractive, with long brown hair
flowing off her shoulders.
"Who... are... you...." said Kirby, finding his voice slowing
down.
"That's bet-ter," said the woman, smiling directly into the
holocamera.
"Get out of there, now!" said the War Admiral.
Through the camera they could only see two of the marines, but
they were on their knees, and they were smiling.
"Kirby, get out of there!" said the War Admiral.
"Nice...." they heard Kirby say. And then he must have laid down
on the ground, because the holocamera was showing the sky.
The War Admiral turned to Colonel Darley. "Get the squadron out
of there now!"
Rey turned to his sensors. "Squadron leader, Wildcat B, withdraw,
repeat, withdraw."
"They're not in orbit around the planet anymore," said Shishman,
checking the sensors.
"They're going in for a landing," Darley confirmed. "I can't
reach them."
"Or maybe you can, but they're just not responding," said the War
Admiral, a sick feeling in his stomach.
"Why all this unhappiness?" said the sweet voice.
They turned back to the holoimage, which was still projecting the
clouds and the sky.
And now also a face, looking down at the camera, the face of the
young woman. "Pretty pretty," she smiled.
"Who are you? What do you want?" said the War Admiral.
The woman smiled at the War Admiral, and he felt a chill run down
his spine. "I want to bring you joy and happiness." She reached out an
arm, and on the bridge her holographic arm reached out as well. The War
Admiral was too far back to be touched, but Shishman wasn't, and she
actually reached beyond the edge of the holographic field to touch him.
Shishman sighed, gave a goofy grin, and slumped in his chair.
"Terminate transmission!" the War Admiral barked.
"No effect!" Wren shouted, jamming the key repeatedly.
The holograph of the woman reached out to another officer,
touched him, and he sighed and slumped to the ground.
The War Admiral pulled a blaster out of a marine guard's holster.
Wren wondered if he were going to shoot the hologram. But the War
Admiral aimed and fired at the holographic projector instead. The
image of the woman flickered for a moment, and then disappeared.
"Red alert!" said the War Admiral. "Turn the fleet around, full
reverse! And get Doctor Farb and additional security up here, on the
double!"
Wren scrambled to keep up with the War Admiral's orders. "What
about the men on the planet? The marines, the entire squadron-"
"They're lost," said the War Admiral. "And if we don't get out of
here quickly, we will be too."
It was only two hours later, when the fleet was turned away and
heading in the opposite direction, and there was no sign of pursuit,
that the War Admiral allowed himself to breathe a little more easily.
He and Captain Wren sat in the war room, watching a holographic
projection of Doctor Farb from sickbay.
"We've had no luck in waking Lieutenant Shishman and Ensign
Opeg," said Doctor Farb. "I say "waking" but they're not really
sleeping. They're in some kind of deep dream state, but it's not like
any kind of dreaming condition I've never seen."
"Explain, doctor."
"When the body is normally asleep, certain parts of the brain are
active in certain ways. These same parts of the brain are active in the
same way, but incredibly active. Hyperactive. Whatever they're dreaming
about, it's very vivid to them."
"From the looks on their faces it looks like they are happy
dreams," said the War Admiral dryly.
"Yes," said Doctor Farb. "And you said a hologram did this? One
originating from millions of miles away?"
"Yes, doctor," said the War Admiral. "Keep evaluating their
situation. Try to work out a course of treatment to wake them. My hope
is that once we get far enough away from that planet, that they'll wake
up on their own. North out." He touched the terminate button.
"Those beings must be very potent, to affect us over such a
distance," said the War Admiral. He looked at Wren, who seemed to be
lost in thought. "Stacy?"
"Huh?" she said. "Sorry, I was lost there."
"Are you all right?"
"Of course," said Wren. "I was just thinking about the planet."
"What about it?"
"It seemed like such a nice place...it's a pity we can't visit
there."
The War Admiral frowned. "That nice planet just sucked up over 20
of our finest marines and pilots, as well as two bridge officers."
"Yes, yes, of course," said Wren. "I don't know what I was
thinking."
"Neither was I, but I know why you were thinking it," said the
War Admiral. He touched a button. "Commander Fletcher!"
"Sir," came the voice from the bridge.
"You are taking over the rest of Captain Wren's shift. I'm going
to get some sleep and join Half Commander Kearse on his shift."
"Yes sir."
"Really, that's not necessary," said Wren.
The War Admiral pressed another button. "Doctor Farb?"
"Yes, War Admiral?"
"I'm sending Commander Wren down to see you. I want you to give
her a thorough checkup."
"What am I looking for?"
"Signs that others of the crew may be infected with... whatever
this is."
"Yes sir. Farb out."
Wren looked up at North. "What are you making a big deal about?
I'm all right, I tell you."
"Of course you are," said the War Admiral. "It's just a
precaution. Now, I'm going off-duty myself; why don't I walk you to
sickbay?"
North yawned. It had been a long day. Hopefully he could grab a
few hours of sleep before the next shift. He would have to keep a
careful eye on Kearse to make sure he was unaffected too. Probably they
were all ok; probably they were already out of the influence of that
planet.
The War Admiral let himself be lulled into a sense of security as
he went to bed. Something told him that everything was going to be all
right. In fact, he was so complacent, that he forgot to set his alarm
and dropped right off to sleep.
War Admiral Norman North awoke with a jerk, as if breaking out of
a spell. He checked the chrono. Over ten hours had passed. They were
well into Half Commander Kearse's shift by now.
Quickly he dressed and made his way to the bridge. The corridors
were emptier than usual, but he didn't notice anything wrong.
It wasn't until he reached the bridge that he noticed something
wrong. There, on the viewscreen, loomed the planet large before them.
They were in orbit!
"What's going on here?" The War Admiral barked.
"Sir?" said Half Commander Kearse.
"What are we doing in orbit around this planet?" the War Admiral
demanded.
"Sir, I'm just following the same course you left for Commander
Fletcher when you went off-duty."
The War Admiral touched the comm. "Commander Fletcher, Commander
Wren, get to the bridge, on the double."
Kearse looked puzzled.
"We shouldn't be here!" said the War Admiral, glaring at him.
"Why not, sir?" said Kearse.
And then the War Admiral noticed it. The first sign that
something was wrong with him. Kearse spoke a little slowly, as if he
were in a daze. Kearse recognized him, and could hear what the War
Admiral was saying, but couldn't quite connect the dots.
Fletcher and Wren appeared on the bridge.
"What's going on here?" said the War Admiral. He turned to
Fletcher. "I told you to head away from this planet!"
"Sir?" said Fletcher, confused. "That's what I did."
"Then why are we in orbit around it?"
Fletcher frowned. "I don't know, sir."
North went forward to Lieutenant Shishman's station and checked
the logs. "It says here that the change in course occurred on your
watch. Are you going to tell me you didn't know-" and then North
stopped, in midsentence. It was all clear now. All so clear.
The alien had been manipulating their minds. It didn't matter
what Fletcher said, the alien had controlled him, and made him change
course. In fact, the alien had probably controlled North too, making
him suddenly sleepy, taking him out of play during the time in which
the fleet were heading for the planet.
"Well, let's try it again," said the War Admiral. He set the
controls himself, not trusting anyone else. Then he hit the comm.
"Fleet command, this is the War Admiral. Adjust your course to follow
us."
He set the engage button... and nothing happened.
"Engineering, what's going on?" said the War Admiral. He checked
the settings.
His heart skipped a beat.
The engines had been shut down.
The War Admiral entered engineering accompanied by a squad of
marines. Chief Engineer Arkasian was standing there in a daze. So were
his men. The War Admiral didn't bother to demand an explanation. He
simply went to the instrument panels and attempted to restart.
He started the series of actions required to restart. Press here,
turn there, calibrate there... it became more and more difficult to
think. What was he doing? What should he press next? The War Admiral
looked around. Engineering was so dark! They should get more lighting.
The War Admiral looked around again. What was he doing here? He
looked at the consoles. He had been doing something with the consoles,
but what? He stared at them, but just could not figure it out. The
marine guards stared curiously at him.
The War Admiral took a few steps away from the console. His mind
started to clear. He took a few steps more, and then some more, and
finally, at the very entrance to engineering, he remembered. He was
there to restart the engines.
Bracing himself, he took a few steps back into engineering. Must
restart engines. Must restart engines.
But by the time he got to the console again he was lost. What was
he doing here? It was as if he had come there for some purpose, but
couldn't figure it out now.
When the War Admiral stepped out of engineering, he figured out
what had happened. He marched down the corridor, seeing crewmen
standing there in a daze, smiling like idiots. They were obviously
overmatched here, dealing with something they couldn't fight. Not with
conventional weapons, anyway. And then a thought struck him. He called
several crewmembers on his wristcomm, and told them to meet him in
sickbay.
Doctor Farb was a little foggy but wasn't totally zoned out, much
to the War Admiral's relief.
"Some sort of mental attack, of course," said Doctor Farb,
jerking to alertness when the War Admiral questioned him. "The entire
crew is coming down with it. The most severely affected ones fall into
that dream state I was telling you about. The less severely affected
become dazed, or slow-witted.
"I know in the psionics war we developed mental shields," said
the War Admiral. "Do we have any of those aboard?"
Doctor Farb nodded. "A few. Let me get them."
"See if you can find five," said the War Admiral.
The Ken Pilot and Iday Took showed up while the Doctor was searching.
"War Admiral, what's going on?" said Took. "Why is everyone
acting so funny?"
The War Admiral should have known that Took would be one of the
last to be so affected. He held up his hand for a pause as he watched
Farb search for the shield helmets. Periodically the doctor would sort
of freeze up, and the War Admiral would have to yell "Doc!" to get him
moving again. Finally he got the helmets and the War Admiral grabbed
them out of his slow-witted hands.
"Put these on," he said.
The War Admiral strapped one on. He didn't feel any different,
but then, he didn't feel affected, except when he had been in main
engineering. "Where's Captain Wren?" said the War Admiral. He had
called her too, but she hadn't come.
Took shrugged. "I didn't see her on the way here. You want us to
look for her?"
"No," said the War Admiral. "You'll come with me" He turned to
Doctor Farb. "Doctor, how many more helmets do we have?"
"That's all," said Farb.
"Then put this one on," said the War Admiral, fitting it on
Farb's head.
Farb blinked. "That's much clearer. What was I doing?"
"Figuring a way to defeat telepathic interference," said the War
Admiral. "Can you manufacture more of these helmets?"
"Not likely," said Farb. "We don't have the facilities."
"There must be some way to stop this telepathic interference,"
said the War Admiral.
"Just a minute, let me think," said Farb. He paused a moment, but
he didn't look dazed like he did before. Then he got up and went to a
scanner, and touched a few keys.
"There it is," he said, showing a loopy wave on the screen.
"That's what's going through all our brains?" said Took, looking
repulsed.
"In a matter of speaking," said Farb. "If we can use our sensor
array to generate a counterwave to disrupt this one on the same
frequency, we may be able to free our people."
"Sounds like a plan!" said Took. "What's the frequency, Kenneth?"
Farb wrote it down on a pad and handed it to the War Admiral.
"Let's get to the bridge, men," said the War Admiral. "It's time
to retake the ship."
They started off at a brisk military pace set by the War Admiral,
with the War Admiral in front, then Took and then the Ken Pilot. Doctor
Farb stayed behind in sickbay.
But something caused them to stop just a few dozen feet outside
sickbay.
"What is THAT!" said Took.
A glowing, transparent, almost holographic image of the brown
haired alien appeared. She touched one of the crew, the crewmember
smiled, sighed, and then he vanished. She turned towards the War
Admiral, and gave him a knowing smile.
"Let's take a detour," said the War Admiral tightly, backing up
and turning down another corridor.
But the next corridor didn't prove much of a better choice. Now
there were several holographic aliens, some male, some female, each
touching crewmembers, who all gasped, smiled, and then faded. One of
the holograms started to float towards the War Admiral. Knowing it was
futile but also knowing he had to try, he grabbed Took's blaster from
his holster and fired.
The shot went right through the "hologram". Whatever it was, it
wasn't solid enough to be affected. But its touch had real effects.
"Don't be afraid," said the hologram, and North, Took, and the
Ken Pilot turned and ran for their lives.
They ran down another corridor, which took them to a main
junction. North turned one way.
"The shiptube is that way," said Took.
"Do you want to get caught inside a shiptube with one of those
things?" said the War Admiral. "We take the stairs."
But the stairs were blocked off by the brown haired alien. They
turned around; their exit was cut off by the hologram of two equally
attractive but different alien women. Because they had nowhere to turn,
they stood back to back as the holograms approached.
"We're not going to harm you," said the brown haired women, who
was approaching from the War Admiral's side.
"Yeah, vaporizing us won't hurt a bit," said Took.
"You won't be vaporized," said a hologram approaching Took.
"We're simply going to bring you happiness. If you like it, we will
take you down to our planet."
"So the others aren't dead?" said Took.
"No," said the hologram, now standing so close that she could
easily touch Took. "We do not harm anyone. Never. We are here to help
you."
Here to help you. That phrase jarred something in the War
Admiral's memory. Where had he heard that phrase before?
The hologram reached out to touch Took. "No thanks," said Took.
"I'm happy enough as it is."
While the hologram was focused on Took, the Ken Pilot used the
distraction to bolt aside from the hologram and attempt to run past it
without touching.
But his incredible Graftonite reflexes were no match for the
other hologram, who only had to reach out a few inches to touch the Ken
Pilot. Instantly he stiffened, then relaxed.
"There, isn't that better?" said the third hologram.
"Bet-ter," said the Ken Pilot. He gave a smile, and, holding the
hand of the hologram, started to fade.
"I would have thought if anyone could resist, it would have been
David," muttered the War Admiral. His back was against the corridor
wall now, in an effort to avoid the slowly advancing touch.
"He was the easiest of all," said the brown haired woman. "Only
we have what he so desperately wants. To be with his wife again."
"Well, I don't have a similar weakness," said Took. "And you
better watch out, because I'm shielded, and your mind control won't
work on me."
The second hologram smiled, and touched Took gently.
"Took! Took!" said the War Admiral. "Fight it!"
Took stood in a daze, smiling slightly. "I... ah..."
Suddenly, he shook his head. "I'm fine, War Admiral. They can't
affect me!" he glared triumphantly.
The woman touched him again. Took stiffened, and the goofy smile
started to return.
"He will just need a few moments more," said the brown haired
hologram.
"Take all the time you need," said the War Admiral. At that
moment, he made his move. He dodged past the hologram, and ran for the
stairs. He realized his chances of getting past her were slim, but he
had no other option. He winced as he ducked around her, waiting for the
touch. But for whatever reason, it didn't happen, and he made it to the
stairwell.
After two flights he realized he couldn't run anymore, and
settled for walking fast. He kept looking behind him, but again, for
whatever reason, the holograms couldn't or didn't follow. Eight flights
later he had made it; deck five, the bridge. He exited into the
corridor leading to the main bridge. A number of crewmen were standing
there, looking dazed, with little smiles on their faces. No doubt they
would be collected before long.
As he marched down the corridor he saw someone, waiting for him.
"Norman," she said, in a dreamy voice. It was Stacy Wren, and she
smiled seductively at him in her full dress uniform. The War Admiral
walked up to her. "I've got to get to the bridge."
She put an arm around his shoulders, and looked closely in his
eyes. "Not even time for one kiss?"
Her lips looked seductive. Something made her irresistible, more
than she had ever been before. One kiss, just one.
They kissed and embraced for more than a minute. Then North
steeled himself. "I have to go. I have to get to the bridge."
"Don't you love me?" said Wren, giving soft little kisses all
over his face. "Don't you want me?"
"Stacy, I...." Gone were all thoughts of the bridge. Now all
North could think about was being with her. She started to pull him
down to the ground, fumbling with his uniform.
"What about everyone else in the corridor?" he mumbled. But then
he felt a light touch on his shoulder, and he could feel the heat in
her mind, and it infected him, and all thoughts of the bridge or even
the other crewmembers in the corridor were drawn from his mind. All he
felt was pleasure.
"Resist resist resist." It was like an echo.
"Resist resist resist." And the voice was familiar. It was a
memory, a memory that was attempting to burrow its way to the surface.
No, the true memory wasn't simply the word "resist", over and over
again, it was part of a sentence, part of a larger thought.
"You can resist," said the familiar voice.
"But how can I resist?" said North. It was a like he was
detached, watching himself in a memory. There was someone else in the
room with him, in his office.
It was Inspir!
The memory jumped back a few seconds.
"You may encounter others out there who will want to "help" you,"
Inspir had said. "But unlike me, they won't take no for an answer. The
precious gift, the choice of choosing, will be denied you."
"If they have your mental power, how can we resist them?" the War
Admiral said.
"You can resist them," said Inspir. "They do have tremendous
power, but it is the power of a wave against a beach. It is a power to
hurl a force outwards, to drag millions of grains of sand into the sea.
But the sea cannot drag in a hardened rock, attached to the earth. You
must be that rock."
It didn't or hadn't seemed to make sense. "But how can I match my
mind-"
"You must tap into your inner strength and resolve. Believe in
who you are and what you do," said Inspir. "It won't be enough for your
crew, but it may be enough for you."
Resist.
I must resist, North said to himself. My job is too important. I
can't let go. I can't. I can't. I-
North blinked, suddenly aware his eyes had been closed. He was
lying down in the corridor outside the main bridge. Suddenly the memory
of what had happened came back to him, and his face colored.
Cautiously he looked around. The corridor was empty. Had it all
been a dream?
North looked down at the articles of his clothing still on the
deck. One of them was a captain's jacket, another was a pair of pants,
several sizes too small for him. The War Admiral looked down. He
himself was only partially clothed. North sat up, found his own
clothes, and quickly got dressed. Standing up, he saw the shield helmet
on the ground. He gave it a resounding kick. "Great job, shield
helmet!"
He made his way onto the bridge.
Empty.
How long had he been unconscious? He checked the ship's chrono.
Four days.
FOUR DAYS? Was that possible? His stomach growled. Yes. perhaps
that was. He didn't have any facial hair, but like most men he had
stunted his facial hair..
Well, first thing first. He went into his office and broke out
some emergency rations. Still chewing, he reentered the bridge. They
were still in orbit around the planet.
He activated the ship comm. "This is War Admiral Norman North. Is
anyone out there?"
Silence.
"This is the War Admiral. If anyone is still onboard, please
respond."
Silence
North opened the interfleet channel, and repeated his message.
He waited, and he waited.
Silence.
"Then it's just me, then."
A bolt of memory struck him. The pad with the frequency of the
telepathic activity that Doctor Farb had analyzed. Where was it? The
War Admiral went back into the corridor, looking frantically. Did the
aliens recognize its importance? Had they destroyed it?
North looked around frantically, but it was gone. Then his foot
swiped the discarded Captain's jacket, and he felt something solid.
Underneath it was the pad. He lifted it up with trembling fingers
The frequency was still there.
"What are you doing?" the hologram of the brown haired woman
asked pleasantly.
North was frantically working the controls, setting up the
counterpulse. "Knitting."
"I think that highly unlikely," said the hologram. "I think you
are going to attempt to use your primitive electronic devices to
deprive your crew of their happiness."
"Like I said, knitting," said the War Admiral, moving to another
control. There, the frequency was set. Now to set the direction of the
signal. He turned to another console... only to find the hologram
sitting on it.
"We haven't been formally introduced," said the alien. "My name
is Aneala."
"That's nice," said the War Admiral, wondering how he could get
to the console without touching the hologram. Then he realized he could
do the same thing from Lieutenant Shishman's station, and he went
there. He calibrated the transmission, aiming it to the planet.
Now all that was to be done was to activate it. He turned towards
his command chair-
And the hologram of Aneala materialized in front of him. "I think
we're going to have to do something about you." She raised a hand to
touch him.
North jerked back, pulling away. There, on the power console, he
could activate it from there. He ran to the console, but Aneala got
there first, materializing in front of him.
"I think it's long overdue that we brought you some happiness,"
said Aneala, smiling. "Wouldn't you like to be happy?"
North gave no response. He ran to another console, but again
Aneala got there first. North gave a false smile. "All right, you win,"
he said.
Giving up, he started walking away at a slow pace, casually
walking along the bank of panels along the wall, going nowhere in
particular. But when he got near the panel he was secretly aiming for,
Aneala materialized in front of him.
"Your mind is an open book," said Aneala. "You cannot deceive me.
And now I think it is time we brought you that happiness we were
talking about." She reached forward with an outstretched hand.
"No!" said North, recoiling again. He attempted to back away, but
she floated forward relentlessly. He turned to run, and-
Ran right into her outstretched hand.
The War Admiral immediately froze. A goofy smile started to form
on his face.
"There," said Aneala. "Happiness is nice for the good."
Then the War Admiral started tremble. Slowly, as if working
against a strong current, he clenched his fist, matching Aneala with a
stare, as if their wills were competing. His fist started to unclench,
and he started to smile, but something inside of him persisted. "No!"
he cried to himself, clenching again and banging it down on a console.
Panting, exhausted from the mental exertion, he collapsed into a
chair.
"That was very unwise," said Aneala. "You could have injured
yourself."
"That's why you didn't touch me before," gasped the War Admiral,
taking deep breaths. "That's why you had to use Stacy. You knew I could
resist you."
"You cannot resist us," said Aneala. "Your mental strength is
inconsequential compared to ours."
The War Admiral regained his breath, and sat up straight. "Oh?
Who just won that contest?"
"We did, I'm afraid," said Aneala. "We let go. We could have
taken your mind any time we wish."
"Then why don't you?" said the War Admiral.
"Unlike your companions, you seem to have a limited ability to
resist. We could take your mind, but in resisting, your mind might be
permanently damaged," said Aneala.
"Right," said the War Admiral. He got up now and went to the
command console by his chair. Aneala didn't materialize in front of
him, but she did say, "You realize I can't permit you to do that."
"Afraid of what our 'primitive electronics' will do for your
happiness?" said the War Admiral, pressing the TRANSMIT button.
The moment he pressed the button there was a shower of sparks
from one of the consoles, and red warning lights were flashing on other
indicators. The War Admiral ran to the console, but it already
confirmed what he already knew. The sensor array had been burned out.
They still had long range scan, but that wasn't configured to do what
the short range sensors could have.
"As I said, the outcome was never in doubt," said Aneala. "But I
feel your disappointment. Perhaps you'd like a relaxing massage?"
North, without a word, left the bridge.
He made a visual inspection of key parts of the ship, deck by
deck. The corridors were completely empty, the silence almost eerie. He
didn't really expect to find anyone, but he needed time to think.
Aneala's power didn't work on him; he didn't believe she was holding
back out of fear of hurting him. Something must make him immune. But
what? If only Doctor Farb was here....
Doctor Farb was down on the planet.
Dare he go down there himself? Could Aneala overpower his mind
down on the planet, where she would presumably be stronger? He had
barely managed to survive a test of strength with her hologram. But he
had no other choice. He couldn't run the Glory, much less the entire
fleet on his own.
In Bay One the War Admiral wet his lips as he eyed an idle
Wildcat. But if he were going to bring Farb back, he'd have to take a
shuttle.
"There's no need to take a shuttle," said Aneala, materializing
by his side. "Your Doctor Farb will not be returning to you. He's found
happiness."
"Maybe I can help him find some unhappiness," the War Admiral
muttered, sitting down at the controls. The hologram of Aneala sat down
in the copilot's seat, giving him a mocking smile as she strapped
herself in even as the War Admiral did.
A hologram, capable of moving physical objects? Well, she did
have the powers of teleportation. North idly wondered why Aneala didn't
teleport him to some barren corner of the planet, or even out into the
vacuum of space. Obviously, she didn't see him as a threat. Hopefully,
he would still have an opportunity to disappoint her.
North checked the shuttle's sensors as he penetrated in-
atmosphere. The crew was spread out over many miles. He could spend
days looking for Farb.
"I'll give you directions," said Aneala brightly, pointing to
spatial coordinates on the map. "He and your other senior staff are
there. We put them there so they could be happy together."
North gave her a wary glance. But at this point, he had nothing
to lose
The War Admiral wasn't sure what he would find when he landed, so
he wasn't really prepared for what he saw: hundreds, even thousands of
the fleet's crew, sitting or lying in the grass, giving giggly smiles
and looking vacantly into space.
But that wasn't all. Around every 40 or 50 crewmembers was an
alien--a man, or a woman--sitting in what looked like a wooden chair.
They were just sitting there, looking content. What was going on here?
"They're happy," said Aneala. He suddenly noticed she was real,
solid looking, not a hologram.
"Thanks for the subtitles," said the War Admiral. "Are those your
people?" He said, indicating the chairsitters. "What are they doing?"
"They're being happy," said Aneala.
"A common theme," said the War Admiral. The aliens must require
close proximity to maintain their spell. But there was also something
else... something in the looks on the aliens' faces. As if they were
getting something in return. Interesting. But the War Admiral focused
on the matter at hand. "Which way is Doctor Farb?"
Aneala smiled. "This way. But it won't help you."
The War Admiral felt devastated as he walked past his crew,
recognizing the faces. He looked down in the valley. There were
thousands of them, just lying there. They all looked like...
vegetables. They kept walking, the War Admiral doing so gingerly to
avoid stepping on the bodies. They were just laying there, with
dreaming smiles. All of them had their eyes opened. They blinked only
sporadically, as if it weren't really necessary.
And then they came upon Stacy Wren, and the War Admiral was
especially sickened. She wasn't even fully clothed--just wearing a long
officer's undershirt that went down to her thighs.
"You could at least have let her wear pants," said the War
Admiral.
"She wasn't wearing any at the time we took her," said Aneala.
"If you recall."
North bent down, caressed her face. "Stacy! Stacy! Snap out of
it!" He snapped his fingers in front of her face.
There was no reaction, at first. But a few seconds later she came
alive. "Norm?" she breathed.
"Yes, it's me!" said the War Admiral. Could the alien's control
only be temporary.
"Oh Norm, how I've missed you," she said. She reached out to put
her arms around him, and he hugged her in return, feeling a great sense
of relief. She started to kiss his face. "I missed you so much!" Once
again the War Admiral could feel the heat in her mind affecting him.
She started kissing him more profusely.
With great effort, he pushed her away. "What are you doing?" Wren
said, looking hurt..
"That's not my Stacy," said the War Admiral, getting up. He
looked at Aneala. "Don't think that's going to work twice."
"She does genuinely love you."
"But that's not her expressing it," said the War Admiral. "That's
you, using her as a puppet."
"The emotions are genuine," said Aneala. "We're simply helping
her access them."
"Thanks," said the War Admiral. "But some how the idea of
performing in front of hundreds of crew members doesn't help me access
mine."
"That didn't stop you before," Aneala said.
"Shall we just move on?" said the War Admiral.
Stacy, no longer serving any use, slumped back on the ground, her
eyes staring at the sky.
They walked a few dozen yards. "Is Farb really here, or were you
just guiding me to Stacy in the hopes of snaring me again?"
"Both," said Aneala. "He's right there." She pointed to a tree.
The doctor was sitting with his back to the tree. North went to
him, gently slapped his cheeks. "Doc... doc... snap out of it...."
Farb mumbled something, but his goofy grin remained intact.
North shook him. "Doc! Wake up!" He shook him again, more
violently.
But Farb just lay there, grinning up to the world.
"It is no use," said Aneala. "You cannot help them."
"No!" said the War Admiral.
"Perhaps you'd feel better if you took a nap," she said, reaching
out to touch him. Even before feeling her touch he started to get
sleepy... the ground looked so soft....
"No!" said the War Admiral again, smacking his fist into his
palm. Aneala took a step back and gasped.
The War Admiral took off at a run for the shuttle. Aneala, the
real Aneala didn't follow. But the holographic version of herself met
him at the shuttle entrance. "We'll have to work on getting happiness
for you." She was blocking the entrance.
The War Admiral, taking a deep breath, walked right through her.
He felt no ill effects. In moments, the ship was in space.
"I sense your unhappiness, your sense of loneliness and despair,"
said the hologram, sitting in the copilot's seat. "I thought bringing
you your woman would give you happiness."
"Then it's obvious you don't know very much about me or humans,"
said the War Admiral, lining up an approach for the Glory.
"I now know all the dreams and hopes of humanity," said Aneala.
"As for you, we will have a lot of time together to teach you the joys
of happiness."
The wheels in his head were turning even before he returned to
the Glory. What could he do now? What choices did he have?
First things first. The War Admiral was hungry. And tired. But if
he went to sleep now, would he wake up again? It was a chance he'd have
to take. He'd have to think of a plan to free the crew, and he couldn't
think when he was tired.
He ate a quick meal in the officer's mess. It was all so quiet.
He tried, during dinner, to think of a course of action. Something he
could do to rescue the crew now, without having to risk going to sleep.
Then, reluctantly, he went back to his quarters. He set his alarm
to wake him in eight hours. He hoped that would be enough. He was
getting ready for bed when he heard a noise.
It was like a scuffling sound, coming from nearby. Was someone
else out there? Was someone else onboard? Was it Aneala, coming back to
try to make him "happy" again?
A familiar seaside fresh air smell filled his quarters. In
seconds a semi-solid yipping dog filled his arms, licking his face.
"Puffy!" said the War Admiral, as the pseudo tongue licked his
face. "All right, all right, down boy, down!" He had totally forgotten
about Puffy. Whatever was happening, it didn't seem to affect his
"dog".
"Puffy! Sit boy, pay attention." For an animal, Puffy was very
smart, smarter than a typical mutated dog.
Puffy sat back on his "hind legs", puffing contently. He had
watched enough holos of the real Puffy perspiring with his tongue to
know how to do it.
"Look at the chrono, boy."
Puffy turned to the clock. "I've set the alarm for 0800. Don't
let me sleep past it, ok?"
Puffy stuck out his tongue, smiling.
"Ok?"
Puffy nodded vigorously.
"Good dog," said the War Admiral, petting his head
affectionately.
He dropped his head back on the pillow and immediately fell
asleep.
The alarm was only ringing for a few second before he heard
barking as well. Deactivating the alarm he checked the time. 0801. He
checked the date too, just to be sure. It seemed either he was immune
to Aneala's sleep trick when he was off the planet, or else she had
simply stopped trying.
Aneala may have stopped trying to put him into a deep sleep, but she
didn't stop trying to convince him to seek "happiness." She appeared
from time to time during the day, everywhere he went.
In the officer's messhall.
"Are you really happy eating the same rations, day in and day
out?" said Aneala.
On the flight deck.
"So big, so quiet, so silent," said Aneala. "Don't you want to be
with your crew?"
Even in the shower.
Aneala slowly looked North up and down and gave him a knowing
smile.
"If you think you're intimidating me, you're quite mistaken,"
said the War Admiral, reaching past her to get the soap.
But Aneala only showed up for a few minutes at a time. Most of
the day he was alone, alone, that is, except for Puffy. Puffy floated
along with him as he did the rounds, checking over the ship. His
inspection was mechanical; as he walked about he was trying to think of
possibilities.
He knew what frequency the aliens were transmitting on; to block
their signal, he could repair the short range sensors. But what was the
point? Aneala would simply sabotage them again.
Unless Aneala could be distracted. How could North distract her?
It would be nice if he had someone to help him.
Puffy barked, staring at the War Admiral as his dog sat in
Captain Wren's chair. The War Admiral had always told Puffy to stay off
the bridge, but Puffy understood that the rules had changed now. How
smart really was Puffy? North wasn't sure. Puffy couldn't speak, or
communicate. He seemed to have the intelligence of a very smart animal.
But his thoughts was getting off topic. As long as Aneala was
watching him, reading his mind, there was no way he could surprise her.
Therefore, a distraction was out of the question. Therefore, there was
no way he could attempt to use the sensors to jam the telepathic
signals, or do anything that would threaten their control over the
crew. Aneala would simply stop him in his tracks.
Well, that wasn't quite true. Aneala could deactivate a
mechanical device, but she couldn't stop him. Oh, maybe, as a last
resort, she'd kill him, but she couldn't control his mind like she
could control the ship. That was an important distinction, but not one
that gave him an obvious advantage.
Several days passed. The War Admiral knew that each passing day
increased the danger. An Insect fleet had been tracking them. Sooner or
later, it would show up here, and have little difficulty destroying the
empty, unmanned ships. If he were still here, he'd be killed too.
And then another thought struck him cold. Something he should've
realized from the beginning.
His crew on the planet hadn't eaten or drunk anything in days. If
he didn't act soon, they'd all die of starvation.
"They will not die of starvation," said a soft voice coming from
behind his Admiral's chair.
"Do you monitor all my thoughts every waking moment of the day?"
said the War Admiral, not bothering to swivel around to face her.
"And your sleeping ones too," said Aneala. "You acutely feel the
loss of your captain."
North reddened but kept his tone calm. "What did you mean when
you said before that they won't starve?"
"We are sustaining their bodies," came Aneala's voice from
behind. "They will not perish through lack of sustenance."
The War Admiral considered for a moment. Aneala's statement
seemed oddly constrained. "You just said they won't die through lack of
sustenance," said the War Admiral. "Will they die another way?"
"Yes," came Aneala's response. "Their primitive minds will burn
out in a handful of your years, despite our best efforts."
The War Admiral jumped in his chair. He turned sharply to face
the Aneala hologram. "Your best efforts will cause them to burn out!
Don't you feel any guilt over the murder of thousands of people?"
"We are not murdering them," said Aneala. "We are bringing them
happiness. It is true that their lifespan will be shorter than it was
otherwise, but it will be many times richer."
The War Admiral tried to contain his anger. Then he remembered
something Inspir had said. Something about aliens who would want to
"help" them, but would only be using them for their own purposes. What
purposes could the dreamers be serving?
"Your people, on the planet," said the War Admiral suddenly. He
remembered the aliens, sitting in chairs, surrounded by groups of
crewmen. At the time, he thought the purpose was to extend the alien's
control over his crew. But what if there were also another equally
important purpose? What if the aliens were getting something in return?
"You're using them," he said.
Aneala, looking into his eyes, said nothing.
"You're stimulating their brains to produce dreams of
unimaginable pleasure," said the War Admiral. "And you're living on
that, feeding on that."
"Feeding is not the most precise term," said Aneala. "We do not
get direct sustenance from their thoughts. We do, however, derive
pleasure from helping others."
"Now I begin to understand," said the War Admiral. "You need
others to provide your "pleasure" for you. You live off the dreams of
others!"
"But in return we make them happy," said Aneala. "Come, let us
make you happy as well."
"No thank you," said the War Admiral, heading for the exit.
"You don't have much time," said Aneala. "On the planet, we can
protect you. But in a few days, the ones you fear and call the Insects
will come. If you are on your ship, we cannot protect you."
The War Admiral turned back.
"Yes, we know all about them. They will be coming soon," said
Aneala. She changed tactics. "We do not want to see you hurt. If you
will not join us, you should do as you are considering." She closed her
eyes momentarily as she probed the War Admiral's mind. "Take one of
your... what do you call them? One of your fast attack destroyers, and
leave. Yes, it will be difficult for you to maintain it yourself, but
it will be possible."
The War Admiral raised an eyebrow. "You appear very concerned. Is
it because you truly care about me, or because you're afraid that I'm
close to finding out a way to rescue my crew?"
Aneala laughed. "There is nothing you can do for them, War
Admiral. I have scanned all the possibilities in your mind. None would
work. But we do not want to see you harmed. If you will not join us,
you should leave. If you are still here three days from now, we will
not be able to help you." And she faded.
The War Admiral spent the next day in deep thought, pacing back
and forth in Bay 1, back and forth past the long rows of silent
Wildcats, with Puffy following silently to the side. Aneala was
obviously afraid of something. But what could he do against them? It
was true she could anticipate anything he could think of. So what did
she fear?
Then the War Admiral remembered something.
"She can control the ship, but she can't control me."
Puffy barked, keeping up as he paced.
"But what can I do?" said the War Admiral. "I can't use
electronics to jam their signal, Aneala could sabotage it."
Puffy barked again.
"Is there anyway I can go down to the planet and personally
destroy or disable these aliens?"
Puffy gave a small whine.
"Unlikely," said the War Admiral. "So what is it she fears?"
He paced some more. "Maybe I'm thinking of this from the wrong
angle, maybe I should be thinking more about the crew."
Puffy barked once in support.
"They're asleep, right? Deep dreaming, but essentially dreaming,
right?"
Puffy barked affirmatively, or so it seemed to North.
"So how do you wake up people in a deep sleep?"
Puffy barked.
"Of course!" said the War Admiral.
He raced to the sickbay and punched up the medical database; he
spent the next few hours reading up on medications, copying down drugs
on his pad. Then he went to the dispensary.
"That won't work," said Aneala.
North said nothing, but secured the shoulder pouch. He went back
to Bay One and boarded a transport.
"A transport," said Aneala, sitting in the copilot's seat.
"That's ambitious. Do you really believe you're going to rescue enough
crewmembers to fill a transport?"
The War Admiral said nothing.
"You could just as easily taken a singleseater Wildcat," said
Aneala.
"You've gotten awfully talkative, all of a sudden," said the War
Admiral. "Worried?"
"Not at all," said Aneala. "In fact, I'm looking forward to your
return. This time you won't be leaving."
The transport touched down near the location where the War
Admiral had visited the last time. While he was prepared for it, the
eerie site of his dazed crewmen littering the landscape was depressing.
The aliens sat among groups of them in their wooden chairs, smiling
contently. Well, now he knew what they were so happy about.
The War Admiral headed straight for Doctor Farb. Like the others,
he was just lying there with that dazed look and goofy smile. The War
Admiral took out several injectors from his pouch. What should he try
first?
"I wouldn't advise it," said Aneala. "You are not a trained
physician. Your medication could harm your crewman."
The War Admiral decided to try the stimulant first. That might
wake him up. He pressed the injector into Farb's arm, heard the
releasing hiss, and waited for a reaction.
Farb's smile grew deeper.
"Ahhh," said Aneala. "You have excited him, bringing him more
pleasure."
"In his dreams," said the War Admiral woodenly. Maybe stimulants
were the wrong way to go. He decided to go to a fresh patient. Turning,
he saw Lieutenant Shishman lying nearby. Going to him he took out a
depressant and injected him. Maybe if Shishman weren't so happy it
would break the spell.
Shishman started to convulse and shake.
Aneala, the real Aneala, appeared. "You're hurting him!" she said
accusingly. She reached down and touched Shishman. His struggles
ceased. "I have removed your toxins from his system. Please do not do
that again."
The War Admiral looked about desperately. If she could remove the
drug almost as fast as he could inject it, what was the point? He was
beaten again. He gathered up his gear and turned to go, when movement
caught his eye.
Captain Took was lying on the ground nearby, muttering
unintelligibly. This was somewhat remarkable in and of itself, as he
was showing more signs of life than any other crewmember on this
planet. And then the War Admiral flashed back to the scene in the
corridor. The aliens had had difficulty taking over his mind. Maybe he
was still resisting them.
What was there to lose? The War Admiral took out another
injection, a neural blocker. It might only have a few seconds to work
on him, but that might be enough.
"Please do not do that," said Aneala. She didn't move to stop
him, however.
The War Admiral injected Took. Almost instantly, he started to
blink rapidly. "Whaaaa?"
"Wake up, Took!" said the War Admiral, shaking him.
"What?" said Took, looking dazed, but less dazed than before.
"War Admiral?" he said groggily. "Where am I?"
"A long story," said the War Admiral. "Can you stand?"
"I think so," said Took. He got to his feet, blinked in the
direct light of the sun as he took in the situation around him. "Oh oh.
This doesn't look good."
"It's going to get better," said the War Admiral, smiling grimly.
The neural blocker worked. He only had enough for a few dozen
injections, but that would be enough to start with. He went over to
another crewman and injected him.
"You can't have him," said Aneala, from behind him.
The crewman started to sir, groaning. Then, as if another force
were pulling him back, his goofy smile and dazed expression returned.
And Aneala hadn't even touched him.
North tried the injection on another crewman. The results were
the same; the beginnings of a recovery, and then nothing more.
"It will not work on anyone else," said Aneala. "We are
neutralizing the drug seconds after you inject it."
North, ignoring her, went over to Stacy Wren. She was still in
the long undershirt she had been wearing the last time. If he didn't
rescue her, she'd be wearing it for years. He injected her. She started
to stir.
"Norm?" she said groggily. But then her eyes became vacant again,
and the goofy smile reappeared.
"No!" said the War Admiral. "Snap out of it!" He shook her. No
response. He shook her again, harder. "No!" he cried.
"You cannot have her," said Aneala.
"No!" said the War Admiral again, drawing his blaster.
"That cannot hurt us," said Aneala. "Remember the last time you
tried using it?"
"That was against a hologram," said the War Admiral. "Let her go,
now!" he yelled.
Aneala cringed slightly. "We are bringing her happiness-"
The War Admiral fired at point blank range. The bolt struck
Aneala square in the chest. She made a face and covered her ears.
The War Admiral fired again, and again. But while Aneala looked
uncomfortable, she obviously wasn't harmed. When he stopped firing, she
snapped her fingers, and the War Admiral's blaster spontaneously broke
apart into several pieces.
"We do not want to harm you," she said, stepping closer. "But you
had better leave. While you still can." Her expression was grave.
The War Admiral slowly backed away, not saying a word. He helped
Took, who felt weak, back to the transport. "What was that all about?"
said Took.
"I'll tell you later," said the War Admiral.
"So the Insects are coming in two days," said Took, polishing off
a second dinner.
"According to Aneala," said the War Admiral. It was a relief to
have someone else to talk with.
"What are our options?"
"We could take off in a fast attack destroyer," said the War
Admiral. "Now that there are two of us, we stand a better chance..."
his voice trailed off.
"What?"
"It just occurred to me that the aliens may have released you on
purpose," said the War Admiral.
"Why?" said Took.
"They knew that it would be very difficult for me to manage a
destroyer on my own," said the War Admiral. "Maybe they released you to
make it possible for me to escape."
"Very considerate of them," said Took.
"Yes," said the War Admiral, looking distracted.
"Sir?" said Took.
"What?" said the War Admiral.
"Don't go dazing out on me, sir."
"No," said the War Admiral. "I was just thinking of something."
The next day, one day before the Insects were due to arrive, Took
found the War Admiral pacing in Bay One.
"I've done a quick checkover of the ship," said Took.
The War Admiral continued pacing.
"Everything's ok," said Took, keeping up.
The War Admiral continued walking.
"Since there are only two of us, does this mean I get to be first
officer?"
The War Admiral said nothing, his eyes focused on the deck as he
walked.
"I mean, I'm not looking for a promotion, or anything, but I
think it would be to your benefit-"
The War Admiral grabbed Took by the shoulders, and for a moment
Took had thought he had gone mad. "Of course!"
"Of course," said Took. "Of course what?"
"For my benefit!" said the War Admiral. "Don't you see?"
"See what?"
"All this time I thought the aliens were fearful of me, fearful
of something I can do to rescue the crew," said the War Admiral,
smiling broadly. "But they're not."
"And this is a good thing?"
"Think about it," said the War Admiral. "If they're not fearful
of me, why did they release you?"
"Well, I put up a fight, I resisted them-"
"Why didn't they just kill me?" said the War Admiral. "That's
surely within their power." And then he remembered something else that
Inpir had told him.
"You may encounter beings more powerful than yourself," Inspir
had said. "But they all have an ideology. If you can figure out their
ideology, you can use it to your advantage."
"Don't you see?" said the War Admiral. "They care, they really
care!"
"Huh?" said Took.
"They don't want anything to happen to me because they don't
believe in killing," said the War Admiral. "That's why they want to
help me escape."
"Very nice," said Took. "But even if it's true, how does that
help us."
"Because now I have a weapon I can use against them, and now I
know they can't stop me from using it. Come on!"
The War Admiral was in the control room for forward turret #1,
the home of one of the three sets of massive 34 inch laser turrets.
Took came in, carrying a coil of metallic wire.
"You've got the cable? Good," said the War Admiral. "Help me open
this panel."
They opened a panel behind which were guide conduits.
"Uh, War Admiral."
"The power is sufficiently low, don't worry," said the War
Admiral. He attached the cable to several of the conduits. Then,
sitting down in the firing station, he tied the other end of the cable
to his wrist.
Aneala appeared. "What are you doing?"
"Don't you know?" said the War Admiral. He targeted the turret on
the planet below, aiming carefully.
"It won't work," said Aneala. "You'll only kill your own
crewmen."
"Who said I was going to fire on my crewmen?" said the War
Admiral, targeting the exact spot he wanted.
"What do you think this will accomplish?" said Aneala.
"We'll see," said the War Admiral, getting ready to fire.
"I can easily sever your connection," said Aneala, looking at the
cable.
"That's ok," said the War Admiral. "I can simply have Took take
my place at the firing controls, and put my hand inside the panel."
"You think we will not stop you if it means hurting you," said
Aneala.
"I think that if you short out the controls, I'll be
electrocuted," said the War Admiral.
"We do not want to hurt you," Aneala began to say.
"That's what I'm counting on," said the War Admiral, pressing the
FIRE button. Four powerful laser bolts shot out from the Glory,
streaking down to the planet, down, down, until with a thundering roar,
they detonated in the countryside, only a few hundred yards from the
edge of the encampment where the crew were lying, unconscious.
"No!" said the Aneala hologram, putting her hands to her ears.
"Fire two," said the War Admiral. Another powerful set of bolts
ripped out, landing along a different edge of the perimeter, creating
an enormous explosion but not harming the people in the encampment.
"No!" said Aneala, covering her ears more tightly. "You must stop
at once!"
"Release my crew," said the War Admiral coldly.
"No!" said Aneala. "We do not like it, but if you do not stop, we
will destroy you!"
The War Admiral looked into her blazing eyes. He cast a quick
glance at Took, who was mouthing, "Don't do it", and then back at her.
"The way I see it, I don't have any alternatives." He spun around,
pressing the fire button again.
"No!" Aneala screamed, a few seconds later. "Stop!"
"Release my crew," said the War Admiral.
"What if... we release some of them?" said Aneala.
"All of them," said the War Admiral.
"But we need beings-"
"Beings to keep you entertained, I know," said the War Admiral.
"Don't you have any other beings you've trapped?"
"No," said Aneala, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It has been
a very, very long time."
The War Admiral considered. "What if I were to get you some
replacements?"
"What?"
"The Insects. An entire fleet of them. They should be able to
keep you entertained for years, before you burn out their minds."
"Their dreams are not the same as yours," said Aneala.
"And ours are not the same as theirs," said the War Admiral. He
fixed her with a stare, for a moment. Then he turned back to the firing
console, his finger hovering over the button.
"No!" said Aneala.
The War Admiral didn't look back. "Release my crew."
"Your crew will be released."
The crew started to return. First in one's, then ten's, then
hundreds, popping in much the same way they had popped out. The War
Admiral stayed in fire control for several hours, until a head count
was conducted and it was confirmed that everyone had returned. The
crews were confused, and weary, and not capable of battle, but when the
first signs of the Insect fleet appeared on the edge of the system,
they were at least able to get underway. The Insect fleet followed them
into the system, battle ready, fighters launching, and then... they
just stopped, when they reached the planet.
"Sweet dreams," said the War Admiral.
Two days later, when it appeared they were safely away, Captain
Wren was reflecting on all that had happened. "How did you know, sir?"
"When I was on the planet, Aneala cringed when I shouted at her,"
said the War Admiral. "More so when I fired on her. I realized that the
sounds of explosions were unpleasant to them. It didn't kill them, or
injure them, but it did make them unhappy. And that's what they were
all about, being happy. So when I targeted the perimeter with a few
laser volleys, that must have really shook them up. There was no way
they could be happy with the sounds of explosions all around them."
"That's not what I meant," said Stacy, frowning as she sat down
in a chair in front of his desk. "How did you know she wouldn't kill
you to stop you?"
"I didn't," said the War Admiral. "But all indications pointed
that way. At first I thought they were holding back because they feared
something I could do against them. The first clue to the contrary came
when they simply didn't try harder to take over my mind. They said they
didn't try harder because they feared they could hurt me. I just
thought that meant they tried and couldn't, but they obviously had
great mental power--it was only later I realized they were telling the
truth. They really didn't want to hurt me. And then they let Took go to
help me escape, again so I wouldn't be hurt. They actually did care,
in their own way. They didn't want to hurt us."
"Unless you count burning peoples' brains out slowly over several
years."
"That's not murder to them," said the War Admiral. "They believe
so strongly in the code that they would do nothing to violate it, even
if it meant letting us go."
"But you didn't know that for sure," Stacy persisted.
"There was no alternative," said the War Admiral. "What was the
alternative, Took and I taking a fast attack destroyer? I never
seriously considered it."
"Because you would never leave the crew behind," said Stacy. She
looked down as she changed the subject. "There were a few things left
out of your official report."
"Such as?"
"I remember a certain... incident in the corridor...."
"That wasn't very pertinent to my report," said the War Admiral.
Wren leaned over his desk. "Do you think anyone saw us?" she
whispered. "I don't remember very much, but I do know there were a
bunch of people in the corridor...."
"They were all staring into space," said the War Admiral. "I
doubt they could see a hand in front of their face."
"That's a relief," said Wren. "I know that we've tried to keep
things discrete. But the thought of... performing in front of a dozen
crewmembers..." her face reddened.
"Don't give it a second thought," said the War Admiral, his face
unreadable. "And now, shouldn't you be on the bridge?"
"Aye, sir," said Wren, turning to leave.
The War Admiral stared out his window for a long moment. Then he
turned to his pad, which contained a long report from Doctor Farb. He
keyed in on a paragraph he had already read several times before.
"Once firmly in this dazed state, individuals do not report being
away of their surroundings or the passage of time. However, during the
transition to this condition, some crewmembers do report memories of
the events around them as they transpired-"
The War Admiral pressed the archive button and moved on.
Chapter 10: Assassination
From the Log of War Admiral Norman North, 15 years and four days after
Vitalics
We encountered another ship filled with supplies last week. It seems
obvious now that our benefactor is content to resupply us, to keep our
fleet going, but does not wish to reveal his identity. Even with the
resupply, however, we are still critically short on spare parts and
proper maintenance. Being resupplied once every two years simply isn't
sufficient. Furthermore, the troubling attacks by the Insects have
continued.
Some of my fleet captains have suggested that this is all a ruse,
that the series of resupply ships have been put there by the Insects,
so they can keep track of where we are and where we're going. Feelings
are especially high after a skirmish last week that inflicted heavy
casualties on one of our fast attack destroyers.
For my part I feel the resupply ships are not part of a trap. I
think the Insects are able to track us because they have so many fleets
searching for us. Now that we know about their particle cannon, we know
that once they construct a new fleet they can bring it all the way out
here in a matter of days. With more and more fleets after us, it's
inevitable that we will face more and more battles.
But some of the captains feel we should stop following the route
of the resupply ships. They aren't advocating homesteading. After our
encounter with the false colony planted by the Insects, they are
realistic enough to understand that we can't settle down on a habitable
world. Their argument, now, is that we simply must change direction. I
am not convinced it is time for a change. I am also getting closer to
finding out the origins of our benefactors. I just need a little more
time.
***********************************************************************
*
"Our carrier group have reported a probable location of the human
fleet," said one of the Insect officers in Queen Zsst's command
chamber.
"Excellent," said Queen Zsst. "Order them to attack !"
Admiral Stay cleared its thorax. "Respectfully, noble one-"
"You have a reason for interrupting?" Queen Zsst said coldly.
Admirals had been dismembered for less
"Sorry, noble, one," said Stay, bowing low. "But we have seen how
attacking peacemeal has faded in the past. As I mentioned before, we
need to build a large fleet of capital ships and carriers-"
"You mean several fleets, don't you?" said Zsst. "We have no less
than seven fleets searching for the humans in the hopes of finding
them."
"We need a larger fleet before we can take them on," said Stay.
"Respectfully, that fleet consists only of attack carriers. It's
supposed to link up with a fleet of capital ships in a month's time-"
"In a month's time we may lose track of the human fleet again!"
said Zsst. "We have expended a great amount of resources in hunting the
humans, delaying other necessary campaigns and drawing back on others.
It's time to put this at an end. Eight fully armed supercarriers should
be able to make short work of them. Even with the notorious Norman
North in charge."
"Yes, of course," said Admiral Stay.
***********************************************************************
*
"We'll only be gone for a few hours," said the War Admiral.
"Lieutenant Shishman can continue to monitor the patrols in our
absence," he said.
"Yes sir," said Captain Wren. She wasn't especially concerned,
but with the Insects in the area, she would feel more comfortable if he
were in the Glory, the most heavily armored ship in the fleet, in case
of any sudden attack. But the War Admiral and Colonel Darley would only
be on the Amory Til for a few hours. Captain Dulin had requested it,
actually. He thought it would help improve morale if the War Admiral
and the Colonel met with the Amory Til's pilots. As the secondary and
much smaller carrier of the fleet, there was an underlying resentment
among the pilots of the Til that they never got their fair share of
high profile assignments. Part of the purpose of the trip was to mend
fences. It was logical for Colonel Darley, as commander of starfighter
forces, to go, but sending the War Admiral himself was less intuitive.
What if the Insects attacked while the War Admiral was on the Til, or
even worse, in transit between the two ships?
"We'll always have some advance warning of an attack, Stacy," the
War Admiral had said in his office. "And if they do attack while I'm on
the Til, I'll be very well protected."
"Not as well protected as if you were here," Wren had said.
"I've gone on inspection tours before," the War Admiral had said
mildly.
"Not when we were dogged by an enemy fleet," Wren had responded.
The War Admiral's shuttle launched an hour later, escorted by a
pair of 150-B fighters--Took and the Ken Pilot. Wren had selected the
escort herself.
They were met in the docking bay by the ship's senior officers,
including the commanders of Wildcat AA and Lancer BB squadrons. The
delegation was led by Captain Dulin, who had assumed command after
Captain Bennett was arrested, and his first officer, Commander Slurvik,
who had also been Bennett's first officer.
"War Admiral, you honor us with your presence," said Dulin.
The War Admiral gave a friendly nod. "It's good to be here," he
said, noting that the other officers around him didn't look so
friendly.
"Yes, War Admiral, we're happy to have you with us," said
Slurvik. "This way, please," he said, indicating a passageway.
"Aren't we going to meet with your fighter squadrons?" said the
War Admiral.
"Commander Slurvik suggested you might like a tour of the ship
first," said Dulin, giving his deputy a glance.
"Very well," said the War Admiral. They started walking, with
Slavik in the lead, followed by Dulin, the War Admiral, Colonel Darley,
Took and the Ken Pilot, and directly behind them were the other senior
officers.
Took accidentally brushed against one of the officers behind him.
"Sorry," he said, giving his trademark irritating smile.
The officer, one of the starfighter commanders, just glared at
him coldly.
"Friendly, aren't they?" Took muttered to the Ken Pilot.
The Ken Pilot made no response. He simply looked bored; Captain
Dulin had charged him with getting the War Admiral safely to and from
the Amory Til; now that they had safely arrived, his mind was on
autopilot.
They toured the interior of the ship and gradually made their way
to the engineering section. Dulin or Slurvik would make some comment
here or there, and the War Admiral would take note of it, nodding
sagely.
They made their way through a series of engineering compartments,
with Slurvik leading the way. When they came to one door, however,
Slurvik stopped.
"A problem, Commander?" said Dulin, who was right behind him.
Slurvik frowned. "This door won't open. Must be a malfunction.
Let me go around and see if I can't get it open from the other side. My
apologies, War Admiral."
The War Admiral gave him a tight smile.
Slurvik edged past them and exited the way they had entered. It
was a tight squeeze because they were in a room filled with large power
conduits. Suddenly, there was a giant hum, and then a roar. Dulin saw
to his horror that one of the conduits was bulging and getting red-hot,
about to rupture. Instinctively he turned and tried to push the War
Admiral down, but at that moment there was a bright flash and a large
sound-
"What happened?" said Took, coughing. He found himself on the
deck in the corridor just outside the compartment he had been standing
in. Smoke was wafting through the air, and white clad technicians were
scurrying in and out.
"There was an explosion," said the Ken Pilot, who had minor burns
on his arms and face. "I dragged you out, after I finished dragging the
others out."
"Thanks," said Took automatically. "The others? What about-"
Suddenly, a series of stretchers emerged from the room. "This
one's dead," said one of the doctors, pulling a blanket over the head.
"Who?" said Took. He didn't wait for an answer, but instead
pulled the blanket back.
It was Colonel Darley. His eyes were wide open, staring out in
horror.
Then another stretcher came out, this one bearing Captain Dulin.
"How is he?" said Took, wrenching his eyes away from the Colonel.
"Concussion," snapped the doctor. "Get out of the way, we have to
get him to sickbay."
And then another stretcher came out. The War Admiral was on this
one. He was conscious, and moaning, but his uniform was ripped open and
he was bleeding from the chest. "Took," he moaned feebly as he was
carried off.
"War Admiral-" said Took. Suddenly he saw Slurvik in the crowd.
He fought his way over to him. "What happened?"
"Power conduit ruptured," said Slurvik. "We were lucky it didn't
take the whole compartment."
"Yeah, real lucky," Took said.
"I'm sorry about the War Admiral," said Slurvik. "He's getting
the best medical care. I have to get to the bridge." He turned and
left.
Took put his face in his hands. He turned to the Ken Pilot.
"Who's going to call Captain Wren?"
"WHAT?" the Captain yelled.
The bridge crew of the Glory, unaccustomed to hearing yelling on
the bridge, barely noticed it over the shock of the news.
"It was a freak accident," said the holoimage of Slurvik.
"I want this freak accident investigated immediately," said Wren.
"In the meantime, what is the condition of the War Admiral and the
Captain?"
"Captain Dulin has a severe concussion. The doctors aren't sure
when he'll regain consciousness."
Or if. Wren swallowed that information for the moment. "And the
War Admiral?"
"He absorbed a direct bolt to the chest. If it had hit his heart
he'd already be dead."
"Prepare to medevac him to the Glory," said Wren immediately.
"It's too dangerous to move him now, it could kill him," said
Slurvik. "We have our best people taking care of him."
"How could this happen?" said Wren, grinding her teeth.
"We've accumulated a lot of damage over the years, Captain," said
Slurvik. "It's more amazing that things like this don't happen more
often. In the meantime I'm assuming acting command of the Til, until
the Captain gets back on his feet."
Wren nodded. "I want hourly updates on their condition."
"You'll get them," Slurvik promised. "Amory Til out."
Three hours later Wren, unable to contain herself any longer,
shuttled over to the Til, leaving Half Commander Kearse in charge. She
knew it wasn't responsible of her to leave such a junior officer in
command of the ship, but she felt she had no other choice. She went to
sickbay and checked on their condition. Not much had changed.
Their chief doctor, Commander Rubgy, briefed her personally.
Captain Dulin had suffered a severe head wound and had gone into a
coma. It was unclear when, or if he would recover. A microcellular scan
showed no specific damage to key areas of the brain, but on a macro
level his brain had absorbed a tremendous shock. "In cases such as
this, if he regains consciousness in the next day or two, he'll be more
likely to recover."
"And if he doesn't?" said Wren.
Rubgy made a face. "If we were on August, with the finest
neurosurgeons and the facilities of the capital, we could do more. But
we can't."
"And the War Admiral?"
"He's lost a lot of blood, and suffered serious internal
bleeding. We had to make extensive repairs to his liver and spleen,"
said Rubgy.
"What's his prognosis?"
Rubgy made another grimace. "The damage was severe. We'll have to
wait and see."
Wren tried to appear calm. "Is he conscious?"
"No," said Rubgy.
"I want to see him."
Wren entered the private chamber where the War Admiral was. Now,
critically injured, his years showed, and he looked weak, feeble, and
pale. She reached out and squeezed his hand. Tears swelled in her eyes.
His eyelids flickered at the touch. He started to say something.
"Stac.."
"I'm here," Wren whispered.
"Status," the War Admiral rasped.
"A power conduit exploded. Roger is unconscious. Darley is
dead."
The War Admiral winced. "I... knew his family," he rasped. Then,
with an effort. "My... prognosis?"
"You're going to get better, you just need some rest," said Wren,
holding his hand tightly.
The War Admiral's eyes grew distant, and then his eyes closed.
"Take... command," he whispered.
Wren blinked. Had the War Admiral just put her in command of the
entire fleet? But there was one thing he was right about. Her place was
on the Glory. Reluctantly, she turned to leave.
"Keep me updated every hour, Doctor," she said, leaving.
Outside Took and the Ken Pilot were waiting for her. Both had had
their burns treated.
"What happened?" said Wren, as they walked down the corridor.
"We were taking a tour of the ship, and the power conduit burst,"
said Took. "We were in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Wren looked down the corridor, saw nobody nearby, and yanked him
down a dark side corridor. She spoke in a low but firm voice. "That's
the official line. I find it an extremely improbable coincidence that
such a thing could just happen when the War Admiral was on the ship,
and in that particular room. Are you following me?"
"Completely," said Took. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. I'm
just telling you what Slurvik told me."
"Well, I don't trust Slurvik," said Wren. "He was Bennett's
number one a lot longer than he was Roger's. I want you to dig into
this and find out what really happened." She turned and gave the Ken
Pilot a glare for good measure. "You too. Report anything you find
immediately. I'll be on the Glory."
She turned on her heels and left.
Took felt his sore shoulder, which hadn't been helped by Wren's
yanking. "What do you think, K? Do you see a conspiracy in all this?"
The Ken Pilot shrugged. "I did notice that Slurvik had a ready
made excuse for getting out of the room before the explosion occurred."
"Yes, the malfunctioning door," said Took. "I think we're going
to have to call in an expert on this."
"Chief Engineer Arkasian?"
"No, he'd be too conspicuous. What we need is something with a
lot of brains but a lower profile, someone who won't stand out," said
Took, thinking of a very specific person as he activated his wrist
comm.
"Gee Mr. Took, it's just like old times!" said Billy Holiday. Obe
had brought him in a shuttle from the Glory.
"Yes, Bill, just like old times," sighed Took. "I need you to
have a look at the scene of the accident." They made their way to the
compartment. It was a mess now, filled with burned out components and
shattered pieces of equipment. "Have a look." He remembered that Bill
had single handedly improved the engines on the Blue Luna; surely this
should be in his area of expertise.
Bill studied the conduit for a moment. Then he said, "Yep! It
looked like it ruptured."
"Can you tell us anything more, Bill?"
Bill started sniffing the air. "That's odd."
"What's odd?"
"The smell."
"There was an explosion here, Bill," said Took.
"No, not that," said Bill. "Where have I smelled that smell
before?" He looked down at the ground, and took a small bag out of his
belt. "Do you mind if I take some samples?"
"Go right ahead," said Took, unsure what Bill was up to. When
Bill had retrieved a few pieces he said, "Now, what about the door?"
Bill went to the door. It shwooshed open. "Works fine for me,"
said Bill.
Not only that, but there was a man standing on the other side of
it. The man, a burly lieutenant commander, entered the compartment.
"What are you doing here?" he growled.
"Investigating," said Took.
"On who's authority?" said the man.
"Captain Wren," said Took.
"You can't do anything here without the Captain's permission,"
the man growled.
"Captain Dulin is unconscious," said Took.
"I mean, acting Captain Slurvik," said the man. "I'm Chief
Engineer Wayor, and nobody's allowed down here without my say-so or
Slurvik's."
"Ah hah," said Took. He looked at Bill, got a slight nod. They
were done here anyway.
"Sorry to have bothered you," said Took, turning to go.
When they were out in the corridor Obe whispered, "What was that
all about?"
"With the War Admiral and Captain Dulin knocked out, the chain of
command has gotten a bit, well, unchained," said Took. "I wouldn't be
surprised if Captain Wren discovers some difficulty in getting our
buddies here to follow orders."
"What do you mean, the Til's starfighter scouts won't talk to
us?" snapped Captain Wren.
"They're telling us that all their intelligence has to be
filtered through the Amory Til," said Shishman.
"That's funny," said Wren. "I was under the impression that we
were all on the same side here. Get me Slurvik on holo."
The holoimage of Slurvik appeared on the bridge. "Yes Captain?"
"Commander, are you aware some of your pilots are refusing to
give us direct access to their scouting reports?"
"Really, Captain?"
"Yes, Commander."
"No, I was not aware of this," said Slurvik.
"Perhaps you can make them aware of standard procedure, and order
them to send their intel directly to us," said Wren.
Slurvik considered. "You have to understand, Captain, that the
pilots are very upset right now."
So he was aware of what was going on.
"The whole terrible bombing incident has shaken everyone up
here," said Slurvik. "That may account for why some of our pilots are
feeling a bit provincial."
Obviously, Slurvik had ordered his pilots not to respond to the
Glory's hails.
"I order you to have your pilots provide us with the necessary
information," said Wren, feeling too short-tempered to waste her time
playing games.
Slurvik raised his eyebrows. "You make a reasonable request,
Captain. I will see that it's implemented." His image faded, even
though Wren hadn't formally dismissed him.
"Uh-oh," said Half Commander Kearse.
Wren looked away.
"He's obviously not accepting your authority," said Kearse.
"He has to accept it," said Wren.
"You have to admit that on a fleet level, the chain of command
gets a little hazy with the War Admiral and Captain Dulin out of the
picture," said Kearse. "Slurvik seemed to be acting like you were
equals, at best."
"At best," Wren muttered, wondering how she could hold the fleet
together.
"Gee!" said Bill, peering into his electromicroscope.
"Your favorite word," said Took. "Can I get the long version,
now?"
"Yep, just what I thought," said Bill. "Traloplasticite. I burned
some by accident, once. Got the same smell. That's what tipped me off."
"What does that mean?"
"This stuff was in the conduit," said Bill. "That's the oddest
thing, because it's rarely used, either as a conduit or an insulator."
"What do you mean?"
"It can be used as an insulator, but not a very good one," said
Bill. "But when you send a certain kind of electrical pulse through it,
the properties change, and it becomes a conductor. They tried using it
in switches, but found it erratic."
"Erratic?"
"Yeah. It would explode, sometimes," said Bill. "I think someone
put this in your conduit. I think someone put it there, and set off the
impulse by remote control to have it explode exactly when they wanted
it to. I think someone tried to kill the War Admiral."
"Slurvik actually left the room right before the explosion," said
Took. "He could've done it. In fact, all his senior officers were
behind me. Safely behind me, it turned out. The only ones injured were
people from the Glory, standing in exactly the wrong place at the wrong
time."
"So we have him," said Wren. She bit her lip as she stared at the
other officers assembled in the war room.
"Ah, not exactly," said Took. "We have a theory. We know this
stuff was in the pipe, but we can't prove that Slurvik detonated it.
He's probably long since disposed of the radio detonator by now." He
looked thoughtful. "I did some more digging. This whole inspection tour
wasn't actually Captain Dulin's idea to begin with; Slurvik had
suggested it to him."
"So he decapitated the chain of command... why?" said Wren. "The
homesteader movement is long gone. Nobody wants to settle down anymore,
not after what happened a few years ago."
"I don't know the why's of it," said Took. "One motive is
obvious; with Dulin out of the way, Slurvik becomes Captain. Maybe
Dulin was the main target."
"And the two of them are sitting right now in the Til's sickbay,"
said Wren. She turned to Major Fortran, "Major, I want you to send a
squad-"
"Respectfully, Captain, I don't think that will work," said Took.
"If Slurvik has thought far enough ahead, he'll be ready for any mass
landings of marines in transports. That would just start off a shooting
war, one we wouldn't win. I suggest a more subtle form of protection."
He nodded to the Ken Pilot.
"Get over there," said Wren. "Get to the War Admiral and the
Captain Don't take a transport going over, that will just tip our
hands."
The Ken Pilot got up and left. A few seconds later Took, figuring
he was better needed elsewhere, also slipped out.
"Now, all we have to do is figure out what to do about our
rebellious captain," said Wren. "If he's ready to stage a revolt the
minute a marine lands on his ship, we'll have to be more subtle about
it. I suggest we-"
Suddenly she was cut off by a comm report from the bridge.
"Captain Wren!" came Shishman's excitable voice.
"Wren here," she said, trying to sound as calm as the War
Admiral.
"The Amory Til and three other ships have stopped moving! They're
falling behind!"
"Get Slurvik on holo, NOW!" Wren snapped.
There was a pause. "I'm told Slurvik is unavailable," came
Shishman's voice.
"Tell them that they have exactly 30 seconds to make him
available," said Wren grimly.
"Sir?"
"Tell them," said Wren. It was a bluff, but at this point they
didn't have anything else to work with.
Slurvik appeared on the holo. "Ah, Captain Wren. Sorry for the
delay."
"Why have you stopped moving?" said Wren.
"Some of us decided it was time to stop and reconsider our course
of action," said Slurvik. "We have been slavishly following the course
of these resupply ships for years, and have been consistently attacked
by the Insects. In my opinion this is a trap, set by the Insects, so
they will always know where to attack. The loss of life we suffered
last week was but our latest example. I propose we keep moving, but in
a different direction."
"Proposing is one thing, taking action is another," said Wren. "I
order you to restart your engines and catch up with the rest of us."
Slurvik smiled. "I am sorry, Captain, but you have no authority
over me. While your command of the Glory is undisputed, you have no
right to give orders to the rest of the fleet."
"I spoke to the War Admiral, he put me in charge."
"In his condition? He's not medically fit to give orders to
anyone," said Slurvik. He paused. "Now, if you're ready to be
reasonable, I think we can deal."
"How do you define reasonableness?"
"I propose we change course immediately to stop these senseless
attacks. The leadership of the fleet should consist of an elected
committee of captains-"
"A committee? Are you serious?" said Wren. "How does a committee
govern in a battle?"
Slurvik licked his lips. "Well, then we can elect a leader, then.
I've called a meeting of fleet captains in fifteen minutes. We can
decide things then." His holoimage faded.
"He's called a meeting!" said Wren. "Not bad for someone who's
only been captain for a few hours." She pressed the comm. "Lieutenant
Shishman, order the fleet to full stop. We're not leaving those idiots
behind."
"What about the Insects?" said Half Commander Fletcher. "If we
stand still too long....."
"Hopefully we'll get this wrapped up quickly," said Wren. But she
wasn't at all sure what was going to happen next. It was all happening
too fast.
The captains all appeared by holo, only this time they were in
the Amory Til's war room and Slurvik was sitting at the head of the
table.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice," said Slurvik.
"You've all become aware of the crisis in leadership. The War Admiral
and Captain Dulin are critically injured and out of the chain of
command. Unfortunately, the War Admiral never formally designated where
the chain of command led below Captain Dulin. He must have figured that
since the two were on different ships, the odds of both being taken out
at once were slim. Unfortunately, this contingency has occurred. I've
called this meeting to discuss electing a new form of leadership,
either a committee or an elected leader."
Captain Harkness of the Blue Luna made a noise of impatience. "A
committee? No military fleet can be run by committee."
"A leader, then," said Slurvik.
"The War Admiral put me in command," said Wren. "You all seem to
be conveniently forgetting that."
"You're in command of the Glory, not the fleet," said Slurvik.
"How long have you even been a Captain? For that matter, how long where
you even a full commander? There are many officers here who have been
captain much longer than the time you've spent in long ranks."
"Seniority is one traditional way of determining rank," said
another captain.
"It's also one of the most idiotic," said Harkness.
"What about by grade? We have several War Captains here. Who's
the most senior captain among them?" asked Captain Perko Gale of the
fast attack destroyer Always Ready.
"That would be me," said Harkness. "Told you it was an idiotic
idea."
"You don't want command?" Gale asked.
"Not really," said Harkness. "Not unless you decide to put an
even bigger fool in charge," he said bluntly. Harkness was a very
straight-talking officer, not very diplomatic; that's what endeared or
alienated him among the other captains.
"We should propose candidates and have elections," said Slurvik.
"Would you propose yourself, even though you've only been an
acting captain for a day?" Wren asked, giving him a jab.
Slurvik gave her an unpleasant look. "There are others more
suited to serve. My only interest is changing the disastrous course of
action we've been following. The Insects know exactly where to attack
us because we always follow the course set by them."
"There's an Insect fleet following us right now, and you've come
to a dead stop," countered Wren. "How bright is that?"
"Let's get back to the subject of choosing a new leader," said
one of the captains. "Does anyone have any nominations?"
They argued about how nominations and voting should take place,
and over who should be nominated, and the arguing only grew louder over
time. Finally they were all cut off in their tracks by the sound of
blaster fire.
They turned to see the holographic image of Harkness lowering his
smoking blaster. "Thank you," he said sarcastically. "I was just trying
to get your attention to make a minor point. Before we start picking a
new top guy, are we all sure that the War Admiral and the Captain
aren't going to be returning to duty? It would be embarrassing to elect
a new leader if these guys are going to recover."
"They're not going to recover," said Slurvik quickly. "Our
doctors just say it's a matter of time before they pass away."
"That's not what your doctors told me!" said Wren, shocked.
The babble of voices started up again.
"HOLD IT!" said Harkness. "I think, prudently, we should wait at
least 48 hours before electing a new leader. If either of them are
going to recover, we should probably have some sense of it by then. Do
both sides agree on that?"
Slurvik and Wren reluctantly nodded.
"But I want both of them transferred to the Glory," said Wren.
"I'm sorry, but they're too sick to travel," said Slurvik. "The
trip could kill them." He turned away, seeing something appear on a
screen that was hidden to them. "I have to go. It's agreed, we'll wait
two days."
The holographic images faded.
"Two days!" said Kearse, from the edge of the Glory's war room.
"We're at a dead stop. The Insects could catch up to us in two days."
"I'm more worried about the War Admiral," said Wren. "I think
Slurvik is going to try and finish the job, and now there's only one
man who can stop him."
"What is it?" said Slurvik, coming onto the bridge.
"Two Wildcats on final approach, one a few minutes behind the
other" reported the Til's comm officer.
Wildcats? Obviously not marines coming to board them. What could
two pilots do?
Wait, it must be those two bodyguards. And one of them was
probably the Graftonite.
"Permission denied," said Slurvik.
The comm officer transmitted the message. Then, "No response.
They're still on final approach."
Dare he shoot them down? No, that would be too blatant, and they
didn't want to cross that threshold, not without allies who could take
on the Glory.
"Allow them to land," said Slurvik. "Have security detain them in
the landing bay."
"And if they resist?"
"Dead or alive," said Slurvik bluntly. He added, "Call Doctor
Rudby to my office immediately."
Took landed his fighter right next to the Ken Pilot's. He had
taken off just a minute behind the Ken Pilot and had gradually lost
ground. Now the Ken Pilot was five minutes ahead of him. He opened his
cockpit and scrambled out.
The bay was quiet. Looking down, he saw the bodies of six
security guards. He touched one of them, feeling for a pulse. They were
stunned.
"Which way did he go?" Took wondered. He didn't have to look far-
-there was a trail of unconscious bodies leading to the exit astern.
"Nice. I guess this is the Graftonite equivalent of leaving a trail of
bread crumbs."
"No," said Doctor Rubgy.
"We have to put them out of their misery," said Slurvik. "They're
suffering, and they will never recover."
"They are being medicated, and we have no idea whether they will
recover or not," said Rubgy. His eyes narrowed. "Why are you asking me
to do this?"
"Doctor, the fleet is in turmoil. We need to elect a new
leadership to restore stability. But we can't do that until the matter
of the War Admiral and the Captain are settled."
"Until they're dead, you mean," said Rubgy. "So that's what this
is all about. Power."
"It's about giving us a chance to survive!" said Slurvik. "We
need to have firm leadership for our fleet! We can't wait! Will you
help?"
"No, said Rubgy. "I will not be a party to murder."
Slurvik took a deep breath. It would have been better if the
doctor had agreed; he could've testified that it had been a natural
death. But now he would have to do it himself. "Security!" he called
over the comm. He would take care of the doctor later. First things
first; to take care of the War Admiral and the Captain.
As he made arrangements and reentered the bridge from his office,
he received a disturbing report from his comm officer. They had lost
all contact with the security team in the landing bay.
The Graftonite.
Slurvik entered the sickbay with four security officers at his
back, all with weapons drawn. The Graftonite was there, waiting for
them, his weapon drawn as well. The War Admiral and the Captain were
nowhere to be seen; they were probably in the back room, behind the
Graftonite.
"Surrender and you won't get hurt," said Slurvik.
"There are only four of you," said the Graftonite, looking at
ease as he covered them. "Surrender and you won't get hurt."
"Perhaps you think you can take four of us, all facing you from
the same direction," said Slurvik. Suddenly, four more armed security
men entered through the far end of the room. "But how do you feel about
being outgunned from two directions? Even you're not fast enough to
fire in two directions at the same time." He gave a satisfying grin. "I
think for once, Graftonite, that you've met your match."
"What's happening?" said Wren, pacing back and forth. "We should
have heard from David by now." She was tempted to launch an all-out
strike against the Amory Til. Each moment she delayed simply gave
Slurvik more time to kill the War Admiral. But if she started a
shooting war, that could trigger a much larger one among the fleet.
Their only chance to prevent a civil war and save the War Admiral was
the Ken Pilot. But he was only one man. Could he really take on the
entire crew of the Amory Til?
"We're getting a signal from the Til," said the comm officer.
"Video, not holo."
"On screen," said Wren, her heart leaping. Was this Slurvik
calling to gloat? Or to shed some crocodile tears and announce that the
War Admiral was dead? If so, Wren wouldn't rest until Slurvik was dead,
whatever the cost.
The scene that appeared was most unusual, to say the least.
Slurvik appeared, standing on his bridge, with one important
additional detail: there was a blaster, aimed at and touching the side
of his head. The Ken Pilot stood to his side. "The acting captain has
something he'd like to say to you," said the Ken Pilot calmly.
Slurvik gulped, perspiring heavily. He matched glances with the
Ken Pilot, and something in that look compelled him to speak. "The
incident... in engineering was no accident. I planned it, along with
the following officers...." he named several names. "We wanted to get
rid of the current command and we decided to do it by killing our
leaders." He looked at the Ken Pilot, as if pleading for his life.
The Ken Pilot nodded. "Captain Wren. I suggest you send a medical
team and a marine detachment here on the double. Acting Captain Slurvik
has invited me to take command in the interim."
Wren nodded. "Of course, Mr. Norman."
When the image faded cheers filled the bridge of the Glory.
Kearse, with a broad smile, looked at Wren, who was still glum.
"What's wrong?"
"They tried to kill him," said Wren. Now they had confessions,
however coerced. "And they may still succeed." She paused, looking
distant.
"Captain?"
Wren looked away. "If he dies, they die."
Two transports filled with marines and a small medical detachment
launched from the Glory. Wren tracked it's progress to the Amory Til.
Just before it arrived, she got a breathless report from
Lieutenant Shishman. "Captain! Enemy fleet detected at extreme range!"
"Put it on holo," said Wren.
At the very edge of sensors six large blips appeared. Even at
this distance the computer warbook database could identify them.
Insect flat tops. Super carriers. Intel indicated they carried
between five and six squadron, and were 25% bigger than existing
carriers. Much of the space was taken up by more powerful engines,
which is why they were also dubbed "chase carriers" by intel.
"Picking up a seventh carrier..." said Shishman.
"Oh no," said Wren.
"No, make that eight, now coming into sensor range," Shishman.
Wren thought furiously. Of the original 250 starfighters they had
departed Orotis with, they had about 180 of them left. Each flat top
carried anywhere from 100 to 120 fighters, five or six squadrons of 20.
Even if each only carried five squadrons, not six, that meant 800
fighters. They would be outnumbered by more than four to one.
There was a babble on fleet comm. Wren couldn't make out anything
being said. She turned to Shishman. "Punch through that and get me the
other captains on holo, immediately." She turned to the war room.
They were under attack by the Insects, they should be preparing
for battle, and instead they would have to waste precious time choosing
a leader. Wren grinded her teeth but there was nothing to be done about
it.
The fleet captains started to appear, one by one; five agonizing
minutes later, most had appeared. Wren started talking, even as
latecomers slowly phased in.
"We're under attack," said Wren. "We have to take action, now."
"Who will take command? Who will lead us!"
"Quiet!" yelled Captain Harkness. Everyone stopped talking. "This
is a carrier battle. We need a carrier officer to lead us. We have one
squadron on the Luna, but I'm not a carrier officer. The Amory Til is a
carrier ship, but has no senior officers left. There's only one officer
alive and capable with experience in directing a carrier. That's
Captain Wren." His image turned to her. "What are your orders,
Captain?"
Wren looked around. The other officers seemed to have been
bulldozed by Harkness's presentation. They were waiting for her to say
something, anything.
"I've analyzed the situation," said Wren, trying not to appear
nervous. "We've never been this outnumbered before." She touched a
button, and a holomap appeared. "We're on the edge of a system with a
large asteroid belt. We probably can't reach it in time before the
carriers reach us." She took a deep breath. "I propose the Glory and
the Amory Til launch their fighters and try to delay the attack force,
while the rest of the fleet retreats to the belt."
There was murmuring among the captains. They all knew what this
meant. The Glory and the Til would risk almost certain destruction to
try to give the rest of the fleet a chance to escape.
"There must be some other way-" one of the captains said.
"There is no other way and there is no time!" said Wren. "The
enemy is advancing on us rapidly. Do as I've instructed. All ships
except for the Til and the Glory set course for the asteroids at top
speed. The Til should prepare for battle; the Glory will do the same.
Any questions?"
The captains looked startled; it was all happening so fast. There
was no time to object.
"Good," said Wren, as she heard the hiss of the door to the war
room open. "You're dismissed." She reached over for the button to
terminate the holograms, when-
"Belay that order," said a deep voice.
The background lights were dim because of all the holography. Out
of the shadows came War Admiral Norman North, limping, on a cane,
supported by Command Captain Idaho J. Took.
Wren's mouth dropped wide open. "Belay that order," the War
Admiral rasped. He coughed, and then winced, clutching his side. "Took,
help me into the chair," he said.
Took helped the War Admiral ease into the chair at the head of
the table.
"War Admiral... War Admiral... War Admiral..." they murmured.
"Gentlemen," said the War Admiral. He started to speak slowly,
haltingly, but his voice was firm. "We don't have much time..... I have
analyzed the situation on the way here, and have been monitoring.....
your communications. Captain Wren's plan is basically sound, but will
require...." the War Admiral coughed and winced "...some modification.
The Til will join the rest of the fleet in the flight towards the
asteroid belt."
"And what of the Glory?" said Half Commander Kearse.
"We will set a course for a different direction, for the gas
giant here.... somewhat outside of the asteroid belt," said the War
Admiral, still speaking haltingly, but pointing to the holographic
display. "At half speed."
Kearse looked startled. "But sir, at half speed-"
"Carry out the War Admiral's orders," said Wren sharply. She
looked at the other officers. "You have your orders!"
"Yes sir," they muttered, and their images winked out, one by
one. The odds were hopelessly against them, but years of experience
enabled them to instinctively trust the War Admiral.
"War Admiral," she whispered. "You should be-"
"On the bridge," said North. "Help me get up, Stacy. If we don't
get through this, no one will."
Admiral Tsor studied the situation on his hologrid. She was
confident she had enough overwhelming force to destroy the human fleet.
The only cautionary note was that she didn't have any capital ships to
back her up. She couldn't allow the human battleships to close on her
fleet. That shouldn't be a problem; if the human fleet closed for
battle, her 40 combined squadrons could make short work of them.
Of course, another factor to be careful of was that human, Norman
North. She studied his strategy. The humans hadn't reacted immediately
with the approach of the carrier fleet, which was unusual. Perhaps
because Tsor hadn't launched starfighters when they reached extreme
range. One of the lessons she had learned from her predecessors'
mistakes was that launching at extreme range reduced the amount of time
her fighters could attack with and left them vulnerable when they
returned to refuel. No, the time of launching would not be hurried, and
it would be dictated by Tsor, not the humans.
Most of the human fleet was heading towards the asteroid belt in
the system. Tsor did a quick calculation. Moving at full speed, her
fleet could intercept the humans shortly before they reached the belt.
Tsor was grateful she had the super-fast carriers under her command.
Normally, they could each carry six squadrons, but space for the 6th
was taken up by the extra engines. No matter, it was a fair tradeoff.
One ship was peeling off from the fleet, heading for a gas giant
in the system. It was the infamous Glory! The ship of the infamous
human, Norman North. The High Command had dictated that the Glory was
to be their primary target.
But Tsor was smart enough to realize that Norman North was
probably using his ship as a decoy, to protect the rest of his fleet.
Tsor did another calculation. They too could intercept the Glory before
it reached the gas cloud. The Glory was traveling at a reduced speed.
Had it suffered combat damage from a previous encounter?
Tsor considered the options. Option one--go after the bulk of the
human fleet. Option two--divide the fleet, with part going after the
Glory, and part after the rest of the human fleet. Option three--go
after the Glory, and tackle the rest of the human fleet after its
destruction.
Tsor rejected option two out of hand. Dividing would weaken her
fleet, which, she was convinced, was just what the human Norman North
wanted. Option one, going after the bulk of the human fleet, was more
tempting. But that would leave the Glory at their backs, where it could
launch attacks, again forcing Tsor to divert or at least hold back part
of her fleet. She couldn't leave such a dangerous enemy unchecked to
the rear.
The only sensible alternative, then, was to go after the Glory.
Even if Tsor only destroyed the Glory, and the rest of the fleet was
able to temporarily escape, it would be a great boon to Tsor's career.
The Glory housed most of their starfighter force, and of course the
irritating Norman North. And even if the rest of the fleet escaped, it
would be in a much weaker condition for a followup attack, and could
always be acquired later.
And yet--Tsor considered whether this was exactly what the human
Norman North expected her to do. Lure her forces into the gas giant,
and then spring some kind of trap. Well, if the War Admiral tried to do
that, Tsor would have a special surprise planned for him.
"It's working," the sensor officer reported to Captain Harkness
on the Blue Luna. "They're not following us, they're going after the
Glory."
Harkness shook his head. How could they have fallen for such an
obvious decoy? More to the point, how had the War Admiral known they
would?
"We should be able to get through the belt with time to spare
now," the navigator added.
"Good," said Harkness. "Once we get there, we'll set up exactly
as the War Admiral directed us to." In the back of his mind, though, he
wondered if even the War Admiral, on the Glory, could take on eight
super flat tops on his own.
The carriers closed until they were almost in range so that their
fighters could launch quickly and pounce on the Glory. Almost before
they reached that mark, however, the Glory speeded up, doubling its
speed to get to the gas giant.
Exactly as I expected, said Tsor. Not so wounded after all. They
think they've fooled us; they think they're going to lure us into a
trap in the gas giant. The human Norman North will be very surprised.
The Glory sped into the gas giant's atmosphere; in moments, it
was lost on sensors. But no matter.
The carriers split into two groups, one group of four which went
into orbit around the light side of the planet, and another group of
four which went in orbit around the dark side. If the War Admiral
expected them to play hide and seek in the gas giant, he was in for a
surprise.
For the War Admiral had tried this technique before; and his
favoring of this tactic was well known to the high command; and,
anticipating such a maneuver, they had an answer ready.
"Launch the first wave," Tsor squeaked with great satisfaction.
Two squadrons from each of the two fleet groups launched. They
had already been armed some time before with a very special kind of
munition--thermonuclear depth charges that had been specially outfitted
to be dropped and detonated in-atmosphere. Tsor watched on the tactical
screen as the first wave launched from his carrier group and headed
towards the planet.
It was only several seconds later, when the image of the Glory
came streaking out of the clouds, that Tsor realized he had made his
first critical mistake.
Much of the problem stemmed from the fact that Tsor, like other
Insect Admirals, thought of the Glory largely as a heavily armored
carrier, much like the ones the Insects used. They didn't think of it
as a battleship, because the Glory was so rarely used as such--to take
the homeship for all your fighters directly into battle was like
exposing your queen to constant risk among pawns in a chess game.
Practically, they knew the Glory had massive 34 inch laser turrets and
sidemounted missile launchers; but, psychologically, they never thought
of it as a battleship.
That error in perception was part of Admiral Tsor's unmaking.
The Glory whipped out of the atmosphere at top speed, having just
used the gas giant's gravity as a slingshot. The Glory shot towards the
nearby fleet of four carriers at incredible speed, launching wave after
wave of heavy missiles as it went. But Tsor's flagship was first shaken
by the initial blast from the 34 inch turrets, which sliced through the
ship's shields amidships and came out through the other side.
Analysis afterwards would show that the Glory's forward guns were
only in weapons' range for ninety two seconds, and during those ninety
two seconds was only able to get off eight shots. But it made those
eight shots count. Only one of them sliced into open space. Three of
them heavily damaged one of the supercarriers; four of them carved up a
second one; two of them hit Tsor's ship, and Tsor didn't have time to
wonder why the fourth carrier wasn't hit, because shortly before the
forward guns stopped firing, the first wave of missiles hit. As the
Glory sideswiped one of the carriers it opened up with its rear 22 inch
turret, scoring a direct hit to the engines of carrier number two.
And then the Glory was speeding away, heading for the asteroid
belt. Suddenly, it all became clear. The Glory had lured them to the
planet so it could spring out and attack without having to face their
fighters. Even now, the fighters that had launched with the depth
charges had aborted their run and were pursuing the Glory, but the
Glory, travelling at top speed, was outpacing them.
The ship rocked with a secondary explosion. Tsor ordered the
other carrier group, which was completely undamaged, to pursue the
Glory.
The damage report was grim. Two carriers had been completely
wiped out. A third was heavily damaged and for now non-operational.
Tsor's carrier was the least damaged, and was still capable of
functioning, though shields were down and several starfighters in
storage had been damaged.
Five carriers left, then. In the space of a few seconds, the War
Admiral had wiped out 3 super carriers.
Tsor ordered his ship to rendezvous with the other carriers that
were pursuing the Glory. An underling asked about rescue efforts for
survivors of the other three carriers. For Tsor, they were all a non-
issue. All that mattered was the Glory.
"The carriers are slowly catching up, sir," said Lieutenant
Shishman.
"But we will make it to the belt first," said Commander Kearse.
"That was some piece of work," said Wren.
The War Admiral nodded. He winced, as if he were in pain.
"Can I get you something? A painkiller-"
"No!" the War Admiral rasped. "I need to be clear headed. I'll be
all right. Time to the belt?"
"Thirty nine minutes."
Admiral Tsor's fleet was pursuing at full speed. Even now, she
could avoid disgrace and dismemberment if she caught the Glory. The
Asteroid belt was crowded and thick; the Glory was maneuvering around a
slightly longer route to find a relatively clear path through it.
Tsor noted that she could cut the Glory off if she sent her
fighters through some of the denser parts of the belt. Those regions
weren't large enough for carriers to navigate, but fighters certainly
could. Tsor resisted the temptation to do so. Once again the War
Admiral was setting a trap. He wanted her fighters to go through this
dense region, undoubtedly where an ambush would be waiting.
Tsor scanned the location of the clear passage where the Glory
was now making its way through the asteroid belt. The natural thing for
Tsor to do would be to follow. Well, Tsor wouldn't do the natural
thing. Scanning the belt, she located the next two closest passages,
and ordered her carriers to close on those locations, two on one, and
three on the other.
The Glory had disappeared into the belt. It was difficult to read
beyond the belt because of the density of the asteroids. That was where
the Glory would spring its next trap. But Tsor would not simply walk
into it.
Tsor ordered all fighters to be launched. The carriers would not
enter the belt region. The fighters would be ordered through the two
clear passages in the belt.
The fighters streaked through the two zones. As the first
fighters cleared the passage to the other side, a series of explosions
rocked the zones.
Mines! The War Admiral had anticipated they would use these
alternate routes and mined them.
Tsor grimaced, as much as an Insect could. She had anticipated
this possibility, which is why she hadn't ordered her carriers in. She
had also ordered her fighters to enter in a very spaced out formation.
There would be losses, but not nearly as many as the humans expected.
The fighters cleared the asteroid belt. Of the original 25
squadrons that had launched, 20 had gotten through. They still
outnumbered the humans by greater than two to one.
Tsor's squadron commanders reported that the human fleet had
retreated to the far side of the belt, but that their fighter squadrons
were engaging them. Tsor decided to have half the starfighters, those
designated as fighter/bombers with standoff missile capability, engage
the human fleet, while the other half cover for them. Tsor had to
admire the human ingenuity. The fighters wouldn't have enough fuel to
close on the human fleet and laser them at close range.
Tsor received a report that the human pilots, at a total
disregard for their own lives, were disregarding the covering force and
attacking the fighter/bomber unit.
"Fellas, we have to stop them before they get within missile
range of the fleet," said Took.
"What about those covering fighters?" said Obe.
"We'll just have to keep them off our backs as best we can," said
Took. "If we pause to dogfight with them, the fleet will be dead."
Many Wildcats were lost in battle simply for concentrating on
taking out the bombers and ignoring their fighter cover. Explosion
after explosion danced near Took's ship, and it was only through
constant shifting of course that he was able avoid being vaporized.
The Ken Pilot was everywhere, it seemed, shooting in every
direction. But even with his help it wasn't enough.
88 bombers got within extreme missile range, and each launched
four missiles at the fleet. 352 missiles. At only 63 ships.
The missiles streaked towards the fleet, reaching the first
defense perimeter, a squadron of Defenders. The War Admiral knew that
the Defenders were too slow to keep up with the Insect fighters, so he
had stationed them at inner point defense; they sat at the edge of the
fleet, unmoving, simply facing the direction the missiles would come in
from, and targeting them as rapidly as they could with their lasers.
But there were only 17 surviving Defender pilots, and even firing
nonstop they could only intercept 90 of the incoming missiles. That
left 262 missiles.
The 262 missiles came in and some were intercepted by the last
form of point defense; small, anti-fighter/anti-missile lasers on each
ship. Some ships, like the Blue Luna, had a number of such lasers;
others, like the merchant ships, had none.
The missiles slammed into the fleet, despite a steady barrage of
laser fire. Over 130 were intercepted; and nearly 100 simply missed, or
were distracted by ECM; they were, after all, fired at extreme range.
But 38 missiles hit, slamming into 11 vessels of the fleet. Two
cruisers, one destroyer, and two merchant ships were instantly
destroyed; later, a third merchant ship would have to be abandoned.
Other ships were damaged to varying degrees; and loss of life was
great. On one of the cruisers that exploded there were no survivors.
The Wildcats turned their rage on the Insect fighters and
bombers, who were now turning tail for home. They shot down wave after
wave, who were no longer intent on fighting back, but simply escaping.
They pursued them to the edge of the asteroid belt and even went
through.
Admiral Tsor was concerned, but not too concerned. She calculated
that the Wildcats had expended a great amount of fuel in the sustained
attack, and would have to turn back before long. Furthermore, it was
unlikely that any of them had missiles, given their fighter support
role. So she ordered her carriers to maintain position on the outer
edge of the belt to recover the fighters.
When she didn't count on was the Glory--coming out from one side
of the belt, and a pocket battleship, name unknown, coming from the
other, closing rapidly.
What could she do? The fighters couldn't protect her; they were
out of fuel and needed to land. But if she stayed there and allowed
them to land, the Glory and the battleship would destroy them.
Tsor gave the order to retreat, at top speed. It meant abandoning
all their remaining fighters, but there was no other choice. The
carriers would be useless without fighters, but more could be sent in
via particle cannon.
As her ships fled Tsor wondered how she would justify the loss of
three carriers and all her fighters. She had no idea how much damage
her missile attack had done; it would be better to "estimate" the human
losses generously.
The Wildcats vented their frustration on the Insect fighters,
many of whom were now adrift without fuel. But even after they had
destroyed the last one, their situation was grim. 20 Wildcats had been
lost; only 2 of the 20 pilots had been recovered. Some of the crews of
the six destroyed ships had been saved, to be cramped into the ever
increasingly crowded remaining ships. What was worse was that two of
the ships that had been lost were agro ships. They would all be on
short rations until further notice.
But it could have been much, much worse and they were all
painfully aware that were it not for the War Admiral, they might all be
dead. He had literally concocted a battle plan on the fly, while he was
enroute from the Til to the Glory, and that while he was still
seriously ill.
The only good news to come out of the turn of events is that
Captain Dulin woke up shortly after the battle, and after a few shaky
days was back on duty. A valuable officer had been saved. But others,
including Colonel Darley, had been lost.
That's what the War Admiral wanted to see Took about. Took walked
into his office. He noticed the War Admiral was coughing.
"War Admiral?"
The War Admiral held up a hand, took a drink, and the coughing
subsided. "I'll be all right," he said weakly. "I just want to thank
you for saving my life."
"K did most if it himself," said Took.
"Yes, I've already spoken with David," said the War Admiral. "But
you were the one who pieced together this conspiracy. As always, your
services was invaluable." He coughed again, and clutched his chest,
where it was still painful. But the coughing subsided.
"Took, we're going to need a replacement for Colonel Darley." He
looked meaningfully at Took.
"Oh, no, sir, not again!"
"I know," said the War Admiral. "We tried this once before, and
it didn't work so well."
"It's positively crazy, sir," said Took. "A promotion is supposed
to be a reward. So how do you reward a fighter pilot? Make him so
senior that he can't fly fighters any more! Thank you, but no thank
you."
"Wait," said the War Admiral. "As you know, we're very short of
fighters. And you are our most experienced pilots. If you see an
opening, or an opportunity, or a danger, I want you to be able to warn
other squadron leaders and be able to rely on their following your
orders implicitly."
"But I can do that from the cockpit," said Took.
"No you can't," said the War Admiral. "At least, not completely.
That's why we're going to split Colonel Darley's job. You'll have the
ability to command starfighters in the field, and I'll make
recommendations from the bridge, Major."
"Major," said Took, taking it all in. "But... won't you be too
busy directing the capital ships of the fleet to direct starfighters on
the bridge? That's why it was a separate job-"
"Major, if you can direct starfighters while you're in a cockpit
fighting for your life, I can certainly do the same thing from the
bridge," said the War Admiral. He coughed again. "I'm feeling tired
now, and I have a lot to handle before the day is out. Was there
anything else?"
"No sir, thank you sir," said Took. He turned to go. "Major," he
said to himself. He turned back to the War Admiral. "Does this mean I
don't have to take orders from Fortran anymore?"
"Took...."
The War Admiral returned to his work. This was the last of the
promotions he needed to make; he had already promoted Dulin to Battle
Admiral (three star), and Harkness to Fleet Admiral (two star) and
Dayja to Light Admiral (one star); never again would they suffer the
same disintegrating chain of command that they had here. Dayja was a
last minute selection, a Directorate officer who was not only competent
but had shown his loyalty during the latest crisis. North had long been
reluctant to give out such promotions, partially because their fleet
was too small (and growing smaller) to justify a set of admirals, and
for another because he felt more comfortable concentrating all power in
his hands. But continuing to operate that way nearly led to their
disaster. And now he simply had one last matter to attend to before he
could rest.
"Ready... aim... fire!"
"Ready... aim... fire!"
"Ready... aim... fire!"
The words were repeated over and over, eight times in all. The
War Admiral held the pad in front of him so the video transcript could
be seen quite clearly. Each time, the serviceman, in uniform but
stripped of his rank, slumped as laser bolts struck his chest.
When it was done, the War Admiral looked up at former Captain
Michael Bennett, who was sitting in a corner of his cell.
"Why are you showing me this?" said Bennett, looking uneasy.
"The late first officer Slurvik didn't implicate you in his
confession," said the War Admiral. "But the logs show he spent a lot of
time visiting you over the past few weeks."
Bennett said nothing.
"We make video records of all visits, of course. Even though you
were speaking in low voices, we picked up on everything you said." The
War Admiral cleared his throat. "The funny thing is, a lot of what you
were saying was nonsensical, as if they were code phrases. And it also
looked, at times, as if Slurvik was passing you something, like a small
data cube, or you passing one back to him."
"You've already had me searched again," said Bennett. "My
personal pad has no incriminating information."
"That's true, it doesn't," said the War Admiral.
"So what are you saying?"
The War Admiral came close. "I'm saying that this is twice, now.
And this time, because of your arrogance, a lot of people died because
of you." He stepped closer.
Although the War Admiral was wounded, and Bennett was able-
bodied, he suddenly feared for his life.
The War Admiral stared eye to eye with Bennett for a moment. Then
he yelled "Guard!" Bennett jumped involuntarily. As the guard
approached to lower the force field, the War Admiral whispered, "If
there is a next time, it will be your last. Do you understand me?"
Bennett, trembling, nodded as the guard lowered the force field,
allowing the War Admiral to exit.
Chapter 11: Last Stand
From the log of War Admiral Norman North, 16 years 10 months and one
day after Vitalics.
We've encountered another supply ship today. It was filled with almost
exactly the precise kinds and amounts of parts we needed, as well as
coordinates for what, I'm sure, will be another supply ship, two years
down the road. These resupply ships are vital as we continue to be
attacked by the Insects, and our numbers continue to dwindle.
Finally, though, after all these years, I think I have figured
out who is sending us these shipments, how they know exactly what they
need, and, just maybe, where our benefactor is located.
The War Admiral had assembled the ship's senior officers in the
war room--Captain Wren, Admiral Dulin, Admiral Dayja, Admiral Harkness,
Major Took, and Major Fortran. Once he was ready to make a full
announcement, he would brief the rest of the fleet officers as well;
but there was still one bit of evidence to unearth.
"You may be wondering why I've called you all here today," said
the War Admiral. "For some years now we've been following the trail of
a series of supply ships left for us." He pressed a button, and a
series of dots appeared on the holomap. "There are some who say, and
have said, that these supply ships are a trap, a way for the Insects to
track our current whereabouts. I have never believed these rumors, and
today I know, almost to a certainty, that they are not true. I can even
prove it."
The officers looked at each other eagerly.
"There are three main questions to consider--who is helping us,
why are they helping us, and how are they getting precise information
on what our needs are. I believe I can now answer all three questions.
Let's start with the first question, who is helping us," said the War
Admiral. "It's either got to be aliens, or humans. If it's aliens, its
no one we know of, and so speculating on their identity would be
useless. If it is aliens, by the way, it would have to be aliens who
have learned to manufacture the kinds of spare parts we need."
"No, I always thought it was humans sending us these giant care
packages in space, or at least humans working with aliens," said the
War Admiral. "And if it were humans, than who? A private group or
organization? Possible, but unlikely. They'd have to have tremendous
resources. What does that leave? An interstellar government or agency.
The League? I was about as highly placed in the military as anyone
except the Chief of Staff, and I never heard of any secret bases or
hidden manufacturing facilities. It's remotely possible a group like
the Agency could have been involved, but they usually didn't involve
themselves in large scale military procurement."
"No, there's a much more likelier source. The Directorate. Our
junior partner in our now defunct Alliance."
"The Directorate?" said Harkness. "They fell to pieces after
Quick died. No offense, Dayja," he added hastily.
"Not the words I would've used," growled Dajya, who was a former
directorate officer. "But we did seem to have more than our fair share
of problems after we lost Director Quick."
"How could the Directorate have been involved?" Wren asked.
"Their fleet was contracting, not expanding, during the years leading
up to the invasion. First there was that explosion that took out a
chunk of their fleet, then all their older ships that were scrapped in
anticipation of their new cruisers, and then the new ships that were
filled with bugs and defects and never came online-"
"Yes, they did have a lot of problems," said North. "But I think
it would be inaccurate to say that their fleet contracted. I would
simply say that it was moved around a little."
"What do you mean?"
"I've reviewed the historical database, and while I can't prove
it, I think it highly unlikely that all those mishaps were really
mishaps. Would the Directorate really have been so foolish as to have
put all those ships in one base? Wasn't it really convenient that when
the base blew up, they lost dozens of their finest vessels?"
"You think the explosion was faked?"
"I think the explosion was real enough, but I don't think there
was anything left there to be blown up, except scrap metal," said the
War Admiral.
"And what about the crews of those ships?"
"They're with their ships right now," said the War Admiral.
"Somewhere out there," he said, pointing to the holomap. "There, along
with the ships that were supposedly decommissioned, and the new ships
that were supposed to replace them, and didn't."
"That doesn't make any sense," said Wren. "Why would they
purposely take a huge chunk of their fleet out of commission, right
before they'd be needed the most?"
"Maybe they saw the ambush at Vitalics coming, and knew that even
with those ships they'd be unable to defeat the Insects," said the War
Admiral.
"So instead they establish a base far off in unexplored territory,"
said Major Fortran. "That's pretty outlandish, to think they'd just
abandon their own people."
"I agree," said the War Admiral. "And that's the part I haven't
fully figured out yet. But keep in mind that our benefactors have also
shown that they have advanced technology, alien technology. The
particle cannon that sends us these shipments, for one."
"So?"
"If aliens, live aliens, are providing this technology, maybe
they have their own agenda. One that may coincide with ours on some
points, but not others," said the War Admiral.
Dayja shook his head. "It still seems farfetched to me."
"When Quick died his handpicked deputy Kalin took over. A
competent man, by all measures," said the War Admiral. "Do you really
think he'd allow your defenses to crumble as they did? Let me tell you
another piece of information. I did a check of the Directorate crew we
have in the fleet. Most of the Directorate sailors have less than 20
years experience, as of the day we left Orotis."
"So what?" said Dayja.
"So before the war I saw statistics showing that the average term
of service for your sailors, like ours, was about 40 years. Just by
coincidence, all the accidents and mishaps stripped your fleet of its
most experienced officers." North tried not to make it sound like an
insult; he was just presenting the facts. "More conclusive was a
private conversation I had with the late Captain Alada. You may
remember him, he was Admiral Zarat's deputy on the day of the attack."
Dayja nodded.
"He told me that Zarat had received orders to withdraw even
before the attack had occurred. In other words, even before the
Directorate knew the attack was coming, or anything about the size,
shape, and composition of the attacking force, they had been the same
marching orders that we have been following--to retreat, and head off
into unknown space." The War Admiral paused. "I admit, this is
thirdhand information--I'm reporting what Alada reported that Zarat
reported hearing from Director Kalin. But if it's true, it supports my
theory that the Directorate knew what was coming, and planned for it."
Dayja tried to absorb all this "But... if this is true... why
don't they come and help us with their ships? They've been letting us
get slowly pecked to pieces for years!"
The War Admiral nodded. "The short answer is I don't know. They
may be waiting for some predefined event to happen before they come out
into the open. They may be developing new technology, as we were trying
to do, or building up their forces. Or there may be another reason
entirely. But I am now reasonably convinced that our allies are human,
or largely human, and that they are Directorate forces."
"And how does the Directorate know exactly what kind of spare
parts we need?" Took asked.
"Someone on one of the Directorate ships has been working for
them as an informer, of course," said the War Admiral. "I've spent a
number of years trying to track this person or persons down. But it's
been difficult. Whoever has been leaking information to the Directorate
hasn't been using any of our comm systems to transmit information about
our status. It's still not clear to me how they're getting the
information out. The only thing I'm able to answer, as of this day, is
who."
"Who is he, and how did you track this person down?" said Wren.
"More interested in the how than the who, eh?" said the War
Admiral, giving a wry smile. "After the first resupply ship led to the
second one, I could see the pattern forming. That was when I created
the 'common list', remember that, Captain? It was supposed to be a wish
list of everything we needed, a sort of 'help wanted' list of spare
parts. The ostensible purpose of the list was to enable ships in the
fleet to exchange parts and function more effectively. The real purpose
of the list was to provide a piece of cheese to attract a rat, or rats,
into our trap."
"For you see, there were different versions of the list. All were
stored in the Glory's database, but if you were on the Blue Luna, and
requested the list, you'd get one version; if you requested it from the
Always Ready, you'd get a second version; if you requested it from the
Amory Til, you'd get a third version. And so on. The actual versions
wouldn't differ by very much--usually there would be one key item added
to each list."
"-And then, when we located another supply ship, you could tell,
just by seeing what parts we were sent, which ship had leaked the
information," said Wren. "Clever! But why didn't you find out the
location of the spy years ago?"
"In one breath you call me clever, and in the next you chide me
for not being quicker?" said the War Admiral, looking mildly amused.
"It wasn't that easy. As you know, our benefactor never sent us exactly
what we needed; that would have been too obvious. Furthermore, as it
turned out there were actually two spies, both requesting slightly
different versions of the list, and it took me time to adjust for that
factor as well. After our last resupply ship arrived two years ago, I
had narrowed it down to two ships--a battlecruiser, and a fast attack
destroyer. But that only helped in limiting it to 500 odd suspects. I
created another set of lists, and this time watched to see more closely
who was accessing the list on those two ships and when. ID's can be
forged, of course, and a number of people on both ships, for legitimate
reasons, accessed the list, but after a bit more detective work I have
deduced the identities of both spies (for there are two)." The War
Admiral pressed a button on the comm. "Come in, gentlemen."
Two directorate officers, both lieutenants, entered the war room.
They were flanked by two marine guards. "Thank you for coming,
gentlemen," said the War Admiral. "You may be wondering why I brought
you here, but, since I called you together, it's much more likely you
have already have figured it out. Let me introduce you to my officers:
Lieutenant Robert Talley, communications officer on the battlecruiser
Charon, and Lieutenant Ulanda Carela, communications officer on the
fast attack destroyer Zebra. These are our spies."
The spies, if that is what they were, blinked. They looked
puzzled.
"You can drop the act," said the War Admiral. "You may or may not
have committed a treasonable offense, but if you come clean, now, I
guarantee you will avoid the death penalty."
"We were not committing treason, sir," said Talley, stepping
forward immediately. "We were operating under the direct orders of
Admiral Zarat."
The other officers gasped. Until now they hadn't been as sure as
the War Admiral about his latest hunch.
"And what were the Admiral's orders?" North asked pleasantly.
"To broadcast, on a monthly basis, our situation report."
"Including the parts we needed?"
"Including those, sir," said the War Admiral.
"Do you know to whom or why you were making these broadcasts?"
"We--there were three of us, although one of us was lost, shortly
after we left Orotis--presumed they were to allied forces," said
Talley. "They have kept us supplied. And the order came from Admiral
Zarat himself."
"So you keep saying," said the War Admiral. "Nevertheless, you
work not for Admiral Zarat now but for this fleet. The organization you
belonged to, the Directorate, no longer exists. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir."
"Now, how did you transmit your information?"
Talley was silent.
"You've already told us almost everything," said the War Admiral
reasonably. "Can you just nod your head, then? Good. Did you use
these?" He lifted up two small green devices from the floor underneath
the table. Part of the device was a flat panel, and part were a series
of complicated looking controls and buttons. The layout and
organization of it made it seem like it was of alien design. "Well, Mr.
Talley?"
Talley nodded.
"Of course I had your quarters searched when I discovered your
identities," said the War Admiral. "We found the secret panels in both
your quarters. How does the device work?"
"I can show you how to send messages, but I don't know how it
works," said Talley. "It must be transmitting, but I've never been able
to detect a signal. It doesn't even require any outside power to work."
"Do you ever receive anything on it?" said the War Admiral
sharply.
"No," said Talley.
"Do either of you have anything else that's helpful to add?"
They paused, considering, and shook their heads.
"You're dismissed. You're relieved of your duties and will be
placed under guard until I decide how to deal with you."
They filed out, and the door hissed shut behind them.
"Incredible," said Wren, staring at one of the alien devices.
"Starting to believe my hunch now?' said the War Admiral.
"I always believe your hunches. Sir," she said.
"I think the next step is to have one of these taken apart. Since
we have a spare we have the luxury of experimenting with one," said the
War Admiral.
"For what purpose, sir?" said Dulin.
"If it is a directional signal, perhaps taking it apart can tell
us where it's directed at."
"But if we can't even detect the signals that that thing sends,
do you really expect to find out where it's directed by its inner
design?"
"No," said the War Admiral. "That's why if it fails, I have a
backup plan."
They met again two days later. The technical team had taken the
device apart but couldn't even figure out how it worked, much less
where it directed messages to. When they put it back together and had
Talley demonstrate its functions, he couldn't even get it to work
again.
The War Admiral had dealt lightly with both officers. His waving
of the death penalty in front of their faces was merely an inducement
to talk. The officers obviously felt they were doing the right thing,
and they were acting under orders, however dubious in nature. Still, if
they had reported what they had known years ago, they might have saved
the entire fleet much hardship and losses. The War Admiral formally
reprimanded both of them and had them reassigned other areas unrelated
to communications. There would be no further unauthorized messages
coming from his fleet. The War Admiral was grateful to have been
resupplied all these years, but he also felt that he, and the fleet,
was being used as a pawn, and that was about to change.
"So now we know how the information is getting out, and we have a
hypothesis on who is aiding us, what do we do now?" said Dulin.
"We track the transmission to its source, of course," said the
War Admiral.
"How?" said Dulin. "The signal that these devices produce is
untraceable."
"We'll have to use some intuition," said the War Admiral. He
pressed a button and a holomap appeared, showing the locations of the
resupply ships. "Notice anything about the location of these ships?" He
pressed another button, and a line appeared connecting all the contact
points. Then it became clear.
"It's like... almost like points on part of a circle, slowly
curving in," said Wren.
"Correct," said the War Admiral. "Which suggests that they are
either trying to keep us away from something outside the circle, slowly
and subtly steering us away from that area," he said, pointing with a
light wand. "Or, they're trying to keep us at a constant distant to the
center of the circle," he said, pointing again.
"Which is it?" said Dulin.
"I've given the matter some thought," the War Admiral smiled. "At
first glance, you'd think they might be outside the circle, trying to
distract us, and keep us away from them. But that only makes sense if
you believe they never want to make contact with us." The War Admiral
paused. "I don't believe that. I believe at some point, at a time that
suits their purpose, they will want to make contact. But if we're many
years away from their base, even at top speed, we won't be able to come
to them in a very prompt manner."
"What about their particle cannon?" said Fortran.
"What about it?" said the War Admiral. "It's a one-way ticket.
They can only use it to send supplies to us, not to send us to them.
No, if you believe that they want to keep us relatively nearby, it
makes sense that they're inside the circle, not outside, somewhere
here," he said, pointing at the rough center.
"But that assumes that is the center," said Dulin. "We've only
found a handful of supply ships, the shape of the path may change over
time."
"And even if that area of space is the center, it would take us
almost two years to get there at top speed, and even then we wouldn't
have a precise location," said Wren. "We could spend another two years
searching once we got there."
"I realize there is a lot of guesswork involved, and once again
I'm asking you to trust my hunches," said the War Admiral. "But we have
no choice but to try." His tone grew more grim. "Each encounter we have
with the Insects causes losses on our side. They have thrown so many
resources at us that we cannot keep avoiding them. It may not suit our
benefactor to help us now, but we can't keep going on like this. It's
the best lead we have so far, and I say we follow it."
At the meeting of the fleet captains later that day, the War
Admiral heard similar objections. But, after all they had been through
together, the captains agreed to the change in course.
"It won't be easy to find them," said the War Admiral. "If I'm
right, they're well hidden. And if I'm wrong, we can say goodbye to
further resupply, since we're not heading towards the area of the next
resupply ship. But I think that's the best chance we have."
*********************************************************************
From the log of War Admiral Norman North, 18 years and 5 months after
Vitalics.
What have I done?
Ever since we changed course two years ago it seems we've been
encountering more and more Insect ships. It seems they've been
quadrupling the resources against us. And then, ominously, the attacks
stopped for several months. But we noticed that there were always enemy
ships on the edge of our sensors. A full battlefleet assembled, but
didn't attack. They simply ghosted us for weeks. We tried to lose them
but couldn't. And then, two days ago, they attacked, only it wasn't one
full battlefleet, but three.
This time, they waited for overwhelming reinforcements. The
attacks have been nearly constant. We've lost four ships in the past
week. Two months ago we reached the general area of space where I
projected our benefactor would be located, but we haven't stumbled
across them; we've been too busy fighting for our lives. Right now
we're trying to-
The War Admiral stood up the minute he heard the klaxon and ran
to the bridge. Captain Wren, wearing a bandage on the side of her head,
walked around the debris from the fallen bulkhead to meet him. "Sir,
they're attacking again."
Without prompting Lieutenant Shishman put the images up on the
holoscreen. Two battleship groups, supported by fighters.
Battle Major Took was just opening his cockpit to get out of his
Wildcat-X fighter when the klaxon sounded. "No, this can't be!" he
cried. "We just finished a battle!"
Casey, his tech, ran to his ship and connected the fuel hose.
"I'll have you refueled in just a few minutes."
"Case, what about my aft sensors, they were fried in the last
attack!"
"Can't help," she said, running to the next Wildcat in line.
Which happened to be the Ken Pilot's. "K, I don't suppose you get
tired," said Took, fighting to keep his eyes open.
"Would it help if I said yes, or no?" said the Ken Pilot.
"I don't suppose you can go out there and handle several carrier
groups while I take a nap," said Took, closing his eyes and resting his
head back.
The Ken Pilot didn't answer. And it seemed like only a few
seconds had passed before Casey was banging on his canopy. "Go! You're
good for go!" she said, giving the thumbs up.
"Wha-What?" said Took, opening his eyes. "Tell me this is a
nightmare, please!"
Now they had them.
Admiral Tsor had patiently waited until her five carrier groups
had been resupplied. She had patiently waited until a battle group
consisting of capital ships came to reinforce and complement her
carriers. She had reacquired the human fleet, and waited further for a
second battle group to join her, and a third, ignoring the demands from
the high command as long as possible.
Now, she was ready. She had more than enough resources to destroy
the enemy's depleted fleet. She attacked in waves; this time she sent
in the battleships, with fighter support. Not only would that keep
those pesky human fighters away from the battleships, but it would help
to wear down their fighter support.
The War Admiral, already exhausted from the last battle, jerked
to attention, issuing orders like rapidfire, ordering this group to
move here, that group to move there, but always speaking in that deep
voice of his, never quite yelling, never losing control. It was
something of a feat that even as outgunned as they were, the fleet
still managed to maintain organization and discipline.
But it wasn't enough. The battleships were too powerful. The
Insects had broken through a defensive screen set up by their heavy
cruisers and were pounding the Amory Til. The ship rocked out of
control as enemy lasers blasted through its shields and hit it
amidships.
"Take us in," said the War Admiral quietly. The Glory was forced
once again to enter the fray directly, taking on two of the
battleships, but even that wasn't enough, as the battleships turned
their guns on the Glory. The Glory took several deep hits. Three of
the fighter bays were hit, as well as one of the main generators, and
part of the engineering section. The bridge crew was shook up as more
explosions hit the bridge. It was only with a concerted push from the
Blue Luna and four of their remaining battlecruisers that flanked the
enemy, hitting them from the rear, that forced them to withdraw.
"They'll be back," said the War Admiral, watching them depart on
the screen. He coughed through the smoke. "Damage report? What's
happening with the Amory Til?" He peered at it, what remained of it, on
the viewscreen.
"They're evacuating," said Wren, steadying herself for support.
"The fires are out of control. Two destroyers are moving in to-"
Suddenly there was a brilliant flash from the viewscreen, as the
Amory Til exploded.
"Roger!" Wren cried.
The two destroyers that had closed with the Til were thrown
about. They went spinning madly for a moment, until they regained
attitude control, one of them, the Suny Blue, barely regaining control
before it hit a merchant ship.
"What's the fleet status?" said the War Admiral woodenly. He
looked over at Lieutenant Shishman, who was bent over his controls.
"Lieutenant?"
Captain Wren went over to his station. There was a large metal
fragment impaled in his chest. She felt for a pulse. "He's dead," she
said in a small voice.
"Lieutenant Kao, assume his post and get me a damage report,"
said the War Admiral.
No one moved, and for a moment all that was heard was the sparkle
of short circuiting.
"Now!" said the War Admiral.
Kao made contact with the fleet. "Three more ships lost... five
more ships heavily damaged... almost every ship has losses."
The War Admiral checked the holoscreen. It was flickering. He
rapidly keyed buttons, and it solidified, only flickering
intermittently. He studied the pattern of the departing enemy ships.
"We have a few minutes, perhaps an hour," he said.. He turned to Wren.
"Make repairs. Prepare for a followup attack."
He went to his office, went directly to his desk, and studied a
readout.
The door had barely hissed shut behind him when it opened again.
North didn't acknowledge the visitor, except to say, "I gave you
an order, Captain."
The door hissed shut behind her. "You can't just order us to get
ready to fight again," said Wren. "We're going to die next time, aren't
we?"
The War Admiral was still studying his readout.
"Say something!" she said.
The War Admiral continued to ignore her.
"Do something!"
"What do you expect me to do?" said the War Admiral, suddenly
standing up and facing her. "You expect me to find some way to save us
all? I can't! There are limits, Stacy, and I've reached them. When we
reach a certain point, where we're outnumbered and outgunned eight or
ten to one, there's nothing anyone, even I, can do." He glared at her.
It was the first time she had ever seen that expression on his face.
"I'm... I'm sorry," she whispered. "We would have been dead long
ago without you." She moved forward; he tentatively held her in his
arms.
"This is it, isn't it?" she said, in a small voice.
The War Admiral said nothing.
"Tell me! You've never lied to me," she said.
"This is it," said the War Admiral. "The Insects chose the timing
and location of their attack very well. We're days away from the
nearest solar system or nebula that we could hide in. Most of our ships
are too damaged to run from the enemy." He looked into Wren's eyes.
"Most of them."
She looked inquiringly in his eyes. North gently disengaged
himself and turned his screen so that she could see it. "38 ships left.
Four of them so heavily damaged that they can barely keep life support
going, not that it matters." He pressed a button. "Only these ships are
undamaged enough and have enough speed to escape. On the screen were
pictures of the Blue Luna, two of the remaining Tiger class
battlecruisers, and two fast attack destroyers.
"The Glory?"
"Normally we'd be faster than the Luna," said the War Admiral.
"But that last attack crippled two of our eight engines. We're still
fast, but they're faster now."
"What do you intend to do?"
"I'm going to order Admiral Harkness, and the captains of the
remaining ships to split up and keep searching for our benefactors,"
said the War Admiral. "There's a chance, by splitting up, that some of
them might escape."
"How much of a chance?" Wren whispered.
"A chance," the War Admiral whispered back.
"And as for us?" Wren asked.
"In the next attack, we'll take as many of them with us as we
can," said the War Admiral.
Suddenly they heard Commander Kearse's voice on the comm. "Sir,
they're gearing up for another attack."
"It's time to issue orders," said North, turning to the door.
"Wait!" said Wren. Rushing up to him, she embraced him in a
bearlike hug. After an indefinite moment, he gently pulled away. "We're
out of time."
"Of course I understand my orders, War Admiral," said Harkness's
holoimage. "I just don't like'm."
"We can't survive another attack," said the War Admiral, fixing
the holoimages of Harkness and the four other captains with intense
stares. "You can stay here and die with us, or flee and have some
chance, at least, for survival."
Harkness nodded reluctantly. "Before we go we could take on some
of your wounded-"
"No, time," said the War Admiral. "They'll be on us in minutes."
"Well, at least one of your fighter squadrons-"
"Coordinate with Major Took," said the War Admiral. "I've got
things to attend to." He softened, for a moment. "Good luck, all of
you."
Suddenly Half Commander Fletcher said, "Sir, one of the
destroyers picked up survivors from the Til!"
"What? How many?"
"A few dozen escaped in lifeboats and escape pods," said
Fletcher. He read a report on screen. "One of them is the Captain! He's
injured, but they say he'll be ok."
Dulin was alive! "What ship-"
"The Suny Blue," said Fletcher.
The War Admiral's heart sunk. The Suny Blue wasn't one of the two
destroyers scheduled to depart. Its power generator had been damaged in
one of the earlier attacks, preventing it from attaining top speeds.
And there wasn't time now to transfer Roger to one of the other ships,
who were already starting to pull out.
"Apparently he was injured, and his first officer got him to the
eject pods," said Fletcher, reading further from the interim report.
That probably saved his life. Roger would never abandon ship
while the rest of the crew was still evacuating. How ironic! So Dulin
had been saved from near-certain death, only to be saved for another 30
minutes of life before the next attack.
The War Admiral took a deep breath. The Insects were throwing
everything they had at the fleet now--battleships, battlecruisers,
heavy cruisers, destroyers, fighters, bombers, and more. Some were
damaged to varying degrees but nearly all of them, especially those in
the lead, were coming in fresh.
The War Admiral ordered the remaining ships to assume a classic
arrow formation with the Glory at the tip. He keyed in fighter command,
attempting to reach Ben Hunter in Wildcat "B".
But Took's irritating voice came alive. "Can't get rid of me that
easily, War Admiral."
"Took, I thought you had orders to report to the Blue Luna. They
can take on your pilots-"
"I don't cut and run from my pilots," said Took. "You made me a
Major, and then a Battle Major, remember? That means I'm in charge of
all my squadrons."
"Took, we don't have time to argue," said the War Admiral. "You
can't do any good here. The Blue Luna might survive, but won't without
your help. Now get moving."
There was no direct response, but they could hear Took, talking
softly on a secondary channel. "-I don't think technically it's mutiny,
Obe? No? Are you sure? Oh, all right, you're always by the book." And
then his voice came back at normal volume, "Yes sir. Heading out, sir."
"Good luck," said the War Admiral.
The enemy fleet closed. They would be in combat range in 25
minutes. He linked up with Ben Hunter, who was now commanding the
surviving 86 Wildcats and other fighters, and ordered him to go on all
all-out offensive once the enemy came into range. There was no sense in
wasting effort on defending the fleet.
The War Admiral's breath was almost taken away as he eyed the
number and size of the enemy fleet. They had never before attacked all
at once before. If he was going to say anything, it would have to be
now.
He activated the interfleet comm. "Attention, fleet. This is the
War Admiral. This is War Admiral, Norman North," he said, pausing after
his title. "In just a few minutes, we are going to be engaged by enemy
forces many times stronger and larger than ours. Many of our ships are
already heavily damaged. I've never lied to you before, and I won't lie
to you now.
"This is one fight we will not win."
"But we can go out with a fight. Every enemy that we damage or
destroy weakens the Insect war machine. Every enemy we damage or
destroy increases the chance that the few ships among us that are
capable of outrunning the Insects will escape. It's for them we must
give the good fight." The War Admiral found he had to fight hard to
keep his voice steady. "I've been proud to be your War Admiral. I
wouldn't want to have spent my life in any other way. We've licked
fleet after fleet of Insects, inflicting tremendous losses on them,
despite the overwhelming odds against us." He paused, almost at a loss
for what else to say. "Just remember, regardless of what happens in the
next few minutes, you are the best, and I'm proud to have served with
you."
There was silence on the bridge.
"20 minutes to weapons range," said Half Commander Fletcher
The War Admiral sat down in his chair, next to Wren's. She looked
over at him. He stared back, with worried eyes. They watched the end
approach on the viewscreen.
Seeing the way she was looking at him, he said, "I still have a
few tricks left. Before we're done, we'll let them know they've been in
a fight."
And then the attack began, but not in the way anyone expected.
Suddenly, there was a flash on the viewscreen, like a line that
had just appeared in space.
"Sir!" said Fletcher.
"What's happening?" said the War Admiral, jumping up and running
the holomap.
Flickers of light were appearing on the viewscreen in the
distance, and dots were forming on the holomap. A long and very precise
line of dots, off of and just to the right of both fleets.
"Where are they coming from?" said the War Admiral. "Scan for
identity!" Then, he realized what it was, even though he had never seen
the effect before first hand.
It was ships jumping in from particle cannon acceleration.
Fletcher checked the display. "Identifying....The Delaware... The
Blue Ridge... The Canopus--Sir, they're Directorate ships!"
A line of Directorate battlecruisers and heavy cruisers appeared
to the right.
Half the Insect fleet turned to engage this new enemy.
Suddenly there was a second flicker of light, and a second line
of ships appeared, just to their left. Fewer in number, these were
battleships, dreadnaughts, and flat tops. Directorate flat tops.
The Blue Luna and the other departing ships were turning around,
heading back to the fleet at top speed.
"I don't know what's going on here, but I like these odds," said
Took, accelerating at full throttle. "Wildcat "A", follow my lead!" His
squadron accelerated to catch up with the rest of the fleet.
Admiral Tsor looked about in astonishment. Where had all these
ships come from? They looked like human ships. How could there have
been so many unaccounted ships? And how did they arrive here so
suddenly?
There would be time to figure that out later. Without firing a
shot, Tsor prudently called a retreat.
The Insect fleet started to turn around and run in an opposite
direction.
At that moment there were more flickers of light, and another
fleet wing, this one consisting of cruisers and destroyers, blocked
their exit from behind.
Directorate ships closed in from three sides, and, at North's
orders, his battered fleet closed in from a fourth. That theoretically
left two avenues of escape, "up" and "down", but by now the Directorate
ships were so close that the Insects had no choice but to give battle.
They had many powerful ships and even with reinforcements, the combined
Directorate-Norman North fleet was about equal in size and strength.
It wasn't until they actually started to engage the enemy that
they noticed something was wrong. They were hitting the enemy, and in
some cases, such as when they hit the smaller Directorate ships, were
penetrating their forcescreens. However, the Directorate ships were
penetrating their shields on EVERY shot, even when their forcescreens
were fully activated.
That gave the Directorate ships a tremendous advantage. While the
Insect ships were pounding away to breach the enemy forcescreens and
inflict real damage, the humans were breaching their defenses from the
start, ripping into weapons systems, power relays, control areas, and
other vital areas.
Battleship after battleship, the mightiest ships in the Insect
fleet, started to flame and explode. One supercarrier after another
exploded, leaving their fighter pilots with only a full fuel tank left
to extract vengeance. Smaller ships, such as cruisers and destroyers,
were being destroyed even more rapidly.
Tsor gave the signal to disengage and retreat. His ship was part
of the inner core that made it to the perimeter of one of the walls of
attacking forces. As he fled beyond it, the other ships gave chase; one
by one, his escorting ships were destroyed. Finally, only her ship and
two others were left. Tsor looked in horror at the image in the rear
scanner view. All that was left of her once mighty fleet was debris.
"Raise comm! We must warn the Queen!" said Tsor.
Two human fast attack destroyers closed on one of Tsor's escorting
battlecruisers. The battlecruisers shields were fully up; but that
didn't matter, the beams from destroyer cut through the drive section
of the ship, leaving it dead in space.
Destroyers using beam weapons? Destroyers favored torpedoes. It
must be some kind of new human weapon! "Hurry!" said Tsor.
"Attempting to establish contact on the ultrawave," said the
alien comm officer.
The other escorting ship, a cruiser, burst into pieces as it was
sliced by one of the human ships.
"Contact established," said the comm officer. "What shall I
transmit?"
"Tell them urgently-"
Four beams from four destroyers lanced out, simultaneously
cutting into the Insect battleship. The lights flickered on the bridge,
and then faded.
"Power loss!" said the comm officer. "I've lost contact. What
shall we do?"
The viewscreen was still operational. Tsor watched as another
wave of beams lanced out, directly at her ship. "I don't think it
matters anymore-"
A beam lanced into the armaments section, igniting it; a half
second later, the ship exploded.
"No losses? No losses?" said the War Admiral.
"Minor damage to two ships," said Wren. "And we don't have a
count on our fighter pilots yet. But the Directorate ships, if that's
what they are, took the brunt of it." She checked the sensors. "A
handful of the smaller ones, a few of the destroyers, seemed to have
suffered some damage, but I don't count any losses on their side."
North tried to absorb the news.
"Sir, we're being hailed!" Wren checked the ID.
"Which Directorate ship?" North asked, wondering if he'd
recognize the name or its captain.
"Not a Directorate ship, a League ship! The Majestic!"
The Majestic, one of the League's super battleships. The Majestic
had been at Vitalics. Captain William Harrison-
Captain Harrison's holoimage filled the screen. "War Admiral?" he
said hesitantly.
"Yes, it's me," said the War Admiral.
"I can barely see and hear you," said Harrison, squinting.
"We've suffered some damage," said the War Admiral. "Switch to
video," he said.
In short order Harrison's image appeared on the screen.
"Is it really you?" said the War Admiral.
"I could ask you the same question."
"What are you doing here?" said the War Admiral.
"I've been designated as your liaison," said Harrison.
"Liaison?"
"A friendly face. Someone you'd know from the League."
"Who designated you?" said the War Admiral.
"They felt things would go easier than if you spoke to one of the
Directorate people, that you'd be more likely to trust us, I mean,"
said Harrison.
"I'd be more trusting if I knew who they were," said the War
Admiral.
"Right now we've got to get out of here," said Harrison. "I think
we prevented the Insects from getting out a distress call, but you can
never be sure. Are your ships capable of travel?"
"Most are," said the War Admiral. "But I think we'll have to
scuttle three or four of them."
"Then do so. Can you take the survivors onboard your remaining
ships?"
The War Admiral said, "It depends; how long are they going to be
there?"
"Two, maybe three weeks, depending on your top speed," said
Harrison. "You have about two hours, then we have to get under way.
We'll be busy doing work of our own--making sure there are no survivors
on the Insect ships, and setting up a false trail, but if you need
help, we'll give it."
"That's quite all right," said the War Admiral. "We'll handle
it."
He closed communications.
"What do you think?" said Wren.
The War Admiral raised an eyebrow. "I think we've found our
benefactors."
Once they were in flight, Captain Harrison and some of his senior
officers came aboard. They grimaced on their way to the War Admiral's
office as they saw all the battle damage the Glory had suffered.
"You really had it bad here," Harrison said.
"Not so bad," said the War Admiral. "It was worse for those who
didn't make it." He gave Harrison a pointed stare.
"You're angry that we didn't come and help you before," said
Harrison. "I know, I would be too. I argued with them, pleaded with
them, to send help. But they said no."
"Who are they, Bill?" said the War Admiral.
"Kalin," said Harrison, with only a slight hesitation. "Director
Kalin, Quick's successor. But he's not the only one running the show."
"No?"
"You'll see for yourself when you get there," said Harrison.
"Where?"
"Our home base, of course," said Harrison.
Harrison visited their ship twice more in the following weeks,
but he wouldn't reveal anything else useful, and he wouldn't allow the
War Admiral or any of his crew on his ship. "Your people haven't been
cleared," he said apologetically. "I don't have orders to let you
onboard."
"You're an Alliance officer, Bill," said the War Admiral, fixing
him with a glare.
"The Alliance has declined in stock lately, War Admiral," said
Harrison. "Trust me, we're all on the same side."
"If we're all on the same side, perhaps you can tell me about
that special weapon you used to penetrate their forcescreens," said the
War Admiral.
Harrison made a lip zipping motion. "Sorry, War Admiral. I'm not
cleared to give you that information. All I can say is that you'll have
your answers in a few days."
Many of the wounded recovered during the trip, including Captain
Dulin, who had been knocked unconscious.
"I always seem to get hit on the head," he said.
"It's your most shielded area," said Wren, half supressing a
grin.
"If you're better, I have a job for you," said the War Admiral.
"I want you to go ship to ship and make sure the repairs are as
complete as they can be by the time we arrive."
"Why, Admiral?" said Dulin. "Don't you trust our new friends?"
"Let's just say I'd like to be careful," said the War Admiral.
Finally they arrived at their destination, though they didn't
know it until they received a message from Captain Harrison via holo.
"Here we are," he said.
They were entering a solar system with four planets. The War
Admiral checked the scan of the second one, which seemed the most
habitable. Nothing. A poisonous atmosphere, with no signs of life.
There were also no other ships in the area, aside from the Directorate
fleet which North was uncomfortably aware was escorting his battered
fleet from the front and from the behind.
Suddenly the Directorate ships in front of them seemed to blur;
and as the Glory passed through the region of space where they had just
been, the space around them blurred. When it cleared, they found a
green and blue planet ahead of them, surrounded by a space dock, an
orbital manufacturing facility, and dozens of ships.
"Amazing," said Wren, letting her jaw drop.
As they ID'd the other ships, many were recognized as ships that
had been "lost" during the explosion at the Directorate military base
on Tentus IV, or ships that had been prematurely "decommissioned" over
the past few years. They were all here, and more, including ships they
didn't even recognize.
"Sir, we're getting a signal," said Half Commander Fletcher.
"You're invited down to the planet."
The War Admiral nodded. He turned to Wren, who matched stares
with him. Almost imperceptibly, he nodded no.
"Have the fleet hold here," said the War Admiral. "If I'm not
back in two hours, take whatever action you see fit."
"Sir, do you expect trouble?" asked Commander Kearse.
"You never know," said the War Admiral, walking to the exit.
He was unsurprised when he got to the Bay One to see that his
pilot was none other than the Ken Pilot himself. Undoubtedly Stacy
Wren's idea. The Ken Pilot had been one of the few unwounded officers
who had survived their recent battles. It seemed that nothing could
touch him. But even the Ken Pilot couldn't be everywhere at once; out
of a once proud corps of over 250 starfighter pilots, they had little
more than 100 left, and not even enough starfighters left for those.
The Ken Pilot didn't initiate conversation and the War Admiral
was glad for it, as he was lost in his own thoughts. As the ship
prepared to touchdown on the outdoor landing pad he noticed the city
around them. A city! A human city! There were civilians here too?
He was met by two officers in Directorate uniform who
respectfully urged him into a ground car. The Ken Pilot sat in back
with him. They were taken to a military headquarters through several
security checkpoints, each more stringent than the next, each one level
below the other. Finally, when they were several levels below the
ground, and it seemed they had reached their destination, the War
Admiral was told the Ken would have to wait outside.
The guards around them looked expectant, but the Ken Pilot merely
looked at the War Admiral, who gave a slight nod. The guards relaxed,
and one of them escorted the War Admiral into another room.
"Please wait here," said the guard, turning and leaving. There
was another door on the far side of the room. That, presumably, was
where his host would come in.
The War Admiral eyed the featureless room; featureless, that is,
except for the plastic sheen along one wall.
"He knows it's one way," said a voice on the other side of that
plastic wall. "He's never even seen this technology before, and he
knows it's one way."
"He can't see you," said the second voice. It was an odd,
definitely non-human voice, although it was as calm and cultured as any
human voice.
At that moment someone stepped into the room where the War
Admiral was. It was a thin, balding man, one who the War Admiral knew
on site. Director Kalin. The War Admiral immediately rose from his seat
to shake his hand.
"War Admiral! It's been a long, long time," said Kalin. "Please,
take your seat. We have much to discuss."
"Indeed we do," said the War Admiral. "Starting with what you're
doing here, and how you got here, and why?"
"So many questions!' said Kalin. "Some of us have been here since
shortly after the tragic circumstances at Vitalics. Others, such as
myself, arrived later."
"Why did you establish yourself so far outside of known space?"
"We needed privacy, War Admiral," said Kalin. "We had to make
sure that we were not discovered."
"Until..."
"Until we have built up our forces," said Kalin. "You saw our
orbiting shipyard? Good. But it is the only one we have, and it takes
time to build quality vessels. Which is why we needed ships to begin
with."
"Which is why you faked the explosion on Tentrus IV which
destroyed many of your ships-"
"and why many new ships with "design flaws" never saw service in
Directorate Space, and why many decommissioned ships were also pressed
into service here," said Kalin.
"And the civilians?"
"When our military base blew up, our civilian population, the
families of our military officials, blew up with them," said Kalin. "It
was necessary to bring them along. Separating them from their loved
ones would've been cruel."
"Cruel," said the War Admiral. "An interesting word. We've been
fighting for our lives for years, and you could've helped us-"
"Now War Admiral-"
"-but didn't, leaving us to slowly be killed by the Insects!"
said the War Admiral. "Explain to me how that's not cruel."
"We weren't ready," said Kalin. "You're not even supposed to be
here yet. Those beam weapons you noticed on our ships? We only
discovered those two years ago, and only started mass producing them
last year."
"You still had a fleet with conventional weapons that could have
helped us," said the War Admiral.
"I'm afraid our priorities are a little different from yours,"
said Kalin. "Our priority is to build a fleet that can retake Alliance
space. If we spent our ships fighting to defend you, the Insects would
have learned about us. In fact, by your ill-conceived detour in search
of us-"
"Ill conceived!" said the War Admiral, his eyes flashing. "We
were on the verge of being wiped out. If you had waited an hour more,
there would've been nothing to rescue." He paused, wetting his lips.
"Even if you couldn't spare ships to help us, why didn't you direct us
to your base immediately?"
"Because the Insects knew about your fleet, and if it suddenly
disappeared, they would keep looking for it until they found it," said
Kalin. "And now because of your premature discovery of our location,
the Insects will be launching new fleets into this area. We have only
weeks to prepare now instead of the additional years we had hoped for."
"I'm sorry to have disrupted your schedule," said the War Admiral
with only a hint of sarcasm. "You seem to have spent your time quite
productively here. I noticed coming in that there's an installation on
your outer moon. The particle projector?"
"Particle cannon, yes," said Kalin.
"Interesting technology," said the War Admiral. "Where did you
get it from?"
"From the Monumentals, indirectly," said Kalin.
"From your mysterious allies, you mean," said the War Admiral.
"Yes," said Kalin. His tone and manner changed abruptly. "I'm
sorry, but I'm not at liberty to reveal more at this time. We'll take
care of you and your crew, give you time to rest and recover, but our
main focus has to be on the coming assault."
"The assault?"
"Because of your untimely arrival, we're forced to step up our
timetable. We plan to retake Alliance space in force in a matter of
weeks," said Kalin.
"Interesting," said the War Admiral. "I'd like to help."
"And we'd love to have your help," said Kalin, appearing to relax
for the first time. "Actually, you're an important part of our plan,
now."
"Sounds great. But first I have to meet the man in charge," said
the War Admiral. "And you're not it."
"I told you, I can't-"
The door on the far side of the room opened. "That's all right,
Kalin; I told you it wouldn't work."
The War Admiral allowed his eyes to slowly drift up, to slowly
view the sight he was certain he would see.
That of Director Steven Quick, former ruler of the entire
Directorate.
"About time," said the War Admiral petulantly.
The End
First Afterwards: "Clip Scenes"
I'm very conscious of pacing and dramatic effect when I write a book.
Sometimes I think of great scenes to put in a book, but even better
reasons not to put the scene in, because doing so will reveal something
that will reduce the dramatic suspense.
Nevertheless, these are good scenes, so I've decided to have it
both ways: eliminate them from the body of the story to maintain the
suspenseful flow or "rhythm", but print them here for the reader's
enjoyment.
FIRST SCENE: Chapter 11, Assassination
(The following occurs when acting Captain Slurvik corners the Ken Pilot
in sickbay, with security guards on two sides of the room to put the
Ken Pilot in a crossfire.
Slurvik watched the Ken Pilot appear to waver slightly as he kept
his blaster pointed at the guards in the front of the room. He knew if
he fired the guards behind him would cut him down. "Even your reflexes
aren't fast enough to enable you to shoot with one pistol in two
directions," he sneered.
"With one blaster, yes," the Ken Pilot.
And then he was moving, even before the last word was out of his
mouth, drawing a second blaster and aiming it behind him even as he was
firing the first. A guard near Slurvik dropped and fell, and then
another; and then the guards on the other side of the Ken Pilot were
firing; but the Ken Pilot, not even looking behind him, fired while
doing a shoulder roll to the side; when he came up, two of the guards
that had been on the other end of the room were down.
The two remaining guards on each end and Slurvik trained their
blasters on the Ken Pilot but he moved too quickly, rolling again to
hide behind an empty bed.
The blaster bolts were firing fast and thick, but the Ken Pilot
wasn't coming out from behind the bed.
"Cease fire!" Slurvik yelled at the other four guards. They
stopped firing, but kept their blasters aimed steadily at the space
above the bed. The minute the Ken Pilot appeared, they'd shoot.
"We have you cornered, you might as well surrender," said
Slurvik. "You won't be hurt," he said, while motioning to the others to
fire the instant the Ken Pilot stood up.
Something popped into the air above the bed and the guards,
already on trigger edge, fired madly for a moment.
A moment was all the Ken Pilot needed. He popped out around the
bottom corner of the bed and squeezed off four quick shots. Four guards
fell.
That left Slurvik, with his blaster half pointed.
Almost as if he were unarmed, the Ken Pilot ignored him, slowly
getting up and dusting himself off. He bent down to pick something up-
And when his back was turned, Slurvik raised his blaster to fire-
-and the Ken Pilot spun around and fired first, sending the
blaster spinning from his hand.
Expressionlessly, the Ken Pilot walked over to Slurvik. It was
only when he came around the bed that Slurvik noticed that the Ken
pilot wasn't wearing socks or shoes on one foot.
"That's right," said the Ken Pilot, holding up the sock. "They
fired 15 shots between them, and couldn't even hit it once."
Slurvik grabbed his hand, which had been scarred by the blaster
shot.
"I stunned your other friends, but I reset my blaster because I
wasn't feeling so charitable towards you," said the Ken Pilot
conversationally. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't just kill you
now?"
"I... uh... due process...." Slurvik babbled, his heart racing.
"Did you give the War Admiral any due process?" said the Ken
Pilot. He looked at an injector in Slurvik's belt. Quick as a flash, he
pulled it out and looked at this. "Was this due process you were going
to give to the War Admiral?" He pressed it against Slurvik's throat.
"Maybe we should give some of this due process to you."
"No! Please! I'll do anything you want!" Slurvik cried.
"A full confession, in front of your bridge crew?"
"Yes! Yes!"
"And you'll give the name of your fellow conspirators?"
"Yes!" said Slurvik.
"All of them?" said the Ken Pilot, jabbing the injector against
Slurvik's throat.
"Yes!"
"Good," said the Ken Pilot. "Because if I even suspect you're
holding back, you'll get some of that due process I promised."
Took skidded into the room at a run, nearly breathless. "I...
hey!" he noticed the bodies. "What happened here?"
"You're just in time," said the Ken Pilot.
"I am?" said Took.
"The War Admiral and the Captain are in the other room. Guard
them while I take out the garbage," said the Ken Pilot. Putting the
injector in his belt, the Ken Pilot jabbed Slurvik in the ribs with his
blaster. "Get going."
"Wait," said Took. Of all the events that had happened, one
struck him as oddest. "Why are you holding a sock in your hand?"
"Because I thought five guys with blasters could shoot a boot."
He stared at Slurvik unemotionally. "Turns out I had nothing to worry
about," said the Ken Pilot. He jabbed Slurvik painfully again with his
blaster. "Get moving."
Second Afterwards: "Author's Notes"
At a bit over 120,000 words, this has turned into one of my longest
books so far. And yet, to get it done, I had to pare down and exclude a
number of story ideas I meant to include, such as
1) The story of a lowly lieutenant who took command of a battlecruiser
2) The story of the interfleet olympics
3) The "fleet exchange program"
4) The story how North & Took got trapped on a WW II aircraft carrier
5) The story of how reality shifting aliens helped bring North and Wren
together.
6) A section on the independent adventures of Captain Harkness in the
Blue Luna
7) A new experimental fighter that Took flew in the two chapters
8) A romance between Took and his mechanic, Casey
9) More of Bill Holliday and the Chief Engineer, Petro Arkasian.
10) Captain Bennett's last chance.
and undoubtedly more.
120,000 words is not a 500 page blockbuster; I could have written
more, but I chose not to. This is only the second book in what I
believe could be a 20 book series. I need to conserve my energy to get
this entire series down on paper. Then, assuming I have the energy, I
can go back in and "fill in the blanks", either by writing companion
short stories, rewriting this book to add additional chapters, or even
writing companion novels. I purposely made it a long, 20 year trek to
leave space for other stories.
The book was actually written quite quickly--on some days I wrote
has many as 12,000 words in a single day. But writing large quantities
for more than two or three days burned me out and prevented me from
writing for the next day or two. Still, the bulk of the book was
written in just a few short weeks. I knew exactly where I wanted to go,
and the story basically wrote itself.
I'm going to start work on the next book "Death to the Insects!"
soon, which will wrap up the trilogy, but at the same time create new
problems and situations along with it. I hope you liked reading the
story as much as I liked writing it.
--Steve Gordon, April 5, 2001.
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