by Andrew Beery
When the doors finally swished open, I was surprised by what I saw. There were five J’ni working at various stations around the bridge. A couple of the J’ni had access panels open and were digging through and reconfiguring the hardware. I could see the flashes of light as they used engineering lasers to fuse and un-fuse various connections and components.
Two other J’ni were seated at the helm and weapons stations. They appeared to be testing the controls.
Finally, and perhaps most startling, the J’ni engineer Lieutenant Commander Sa’Mi was sitting in the captain’s chair. He was scanning a tablet and appeared to be checking items off a list. If we had been at a space station undergoing repairs the scene would have been completely expected.
I stepped out of the turbolift. On cue, Gil shimmered into existence. As the door swished shut, Sa’Mi slid off the command seat. The chair was much too big for the raccoon-like creature, so the image was a strange one. I’m sure at another time the sight would have amused me.
I’m not sure what I was expecting at that moment. The ship’s AI seemed to intimate that there was something larger going on. What I was seeing did not seem to be especially nefarious. On the other hand, the ship had been commandeered and a series of unapproved… apparently a series of many unapproved… modifications had been made.
I needed answers, and I needed them quickly. I had every expectation that my home system was already under attack and the most experienced ship and crew seemed to be sidelined by a force or forces unknown. I needed answers and the J’ni climbing awkwardly out of the command chair had those answers.
Sa’Mi walked over to me and, in a surprise move, executed as good a salute as a badger-like raccoon could pull off. Their arms really weren’t made for it.
“Admiral,” the engineer began, “I hereby respectfully return command of the Galactic Order Dreadnought Gilboa over to you. I, also, surrender myself and my staff to you. We are guilty of numerous infractions including but not limited to: mutiny, sabotage, and kidnapping.
“If you would like, we will report immediately to the brig. I would ask however that you consider the extenuating circumstances. We believe we have acted in the best interests of the Galactic Order.”
I looked at the J’ni for a moment without saying a word. My head roiled with emotions. On the one hand, I wanted nothing more than to toss this creature and his entire clan into the brig and forget I ever had a key. On the other hand, I needed him… and to be fair, I was beginning to suspect that… personal feelings aside… there was much more to what was going on than I was privy to.
“Tell me why you did what you did and why I shouldn’t flush the lot of you out the nearest airlock?”
This last statement elicited a number of profoundly nervous chitters among the other J’ni. I think the little buggers thought I might actually do it.
Sa’Mi turned and chittered back at them. They quieted down.
“We would prefer you not ‘flush’ us,” Sa’Mi said simply.
The J’ni looked over at Gil. His eyes seemed to plead with the ship’s avatar.
A deep voice filled the bridge. It seemed to emanate from everywhere.
“Do not hold the J’ni responsible. They acted under my compulsion until I was able to communicate with them. The need for assistance was critical for the survival of countless lives including your own.”
I turned to survey the bridge as the voice spoke. It seemed I was about to get some answers. In one sense, I had a good idea who it was that was speaking. If my guess was right, I was either the luckiest guy in the known universe or in one hell of a lot of trouble. I decided to be optimistic because I tended to be a ‘glass half full’ type of guy.
“I assume you are somehow connected with the Ancestors,” I said more as a statement than a question. “Perhaps the spheroid that was recently unearthed?” I added.
There was a brief and muted chuckle, and then a surprisingly humanoid figure materialized between Sa’Mi and Gil. It appeared human in every respect except for an unusual gradation in skin color. His cheeks and eye ridges were darker than the rest of his features. What I could see of his hands, they were darker on top and lighter on the palms.
“I am Arquat… or at least I was at one point in my existence. My essence was compressed and stored in the archive that your brethren recently retrieved from its repository. Such was the degree of what you would call ‘data compression’ that it took more than ten days to reach the point where I could communicate effectively using a spoken language. Even now much of my programming is unavailable. Your backup bridge is being reconfigured to accommodate my immediate needs.”
The thought that this powerful AI who had effectively stolen my ship was just going to get stronger did not give me a warm and cozy feeling inside. I like to think of myself as an optimist, but I was beginning to think the deck was well and truly stacked against me on this one.
“I remember the Tas speaking of a race known as the Mahanaim,” I said to the holographic creature calling itself Arquat. “Are you somehow related?”
“Yes and no, Admiral. The Mahanaim are a… political and ideological faction within the Jabesh.”
I looked at the holographic projection and said nothing. I wanted him… it… whatever… to continue.
Arquat seemed to understand and continued his explanation.
“The Jabesh is… or more to the point ‘was’… an advanced race that migrated over countless eons from the interior of the Milky Way to the outer arms. We are the race you think of as the Ancestors.
“As is often the case, our race was not homogeneous especially with regard to our ideologies. I was a member of the largest faction. We were the Followers of the Way. Ours was a people who were beholden to the uncreated Creator. Compassion and love for all of creation was our most cherished belief. Science and technology used for the furthering of such goals was the only true justification for technological growth. Healing, aesthetic arts, exploration, and planetary seeding were our motivators.
“Another faction, the Mahanaim, also sought the advancement of science and technology. Their desires were somewhat ignoble. They sought advancements solely for the purpose of mastering the universe. Social and ethical concerns were irrelevant.
“At a certain point, the two ideologies became incompatible…”
I shook my head. “You controlled powers almost beyond comprehension, and you went to war. It’s amazing the universe survived.”
“Sadly, some of this galaxy did not. What you refer to as the Horsehead Nebula is a result of our conflict. We knew at that point that our race had grown too powerful. Our very existence was antithetical to our core beliefs. We sought and were granted access to the heavenly realms… but not until we had eliminated the threat from the Mahanaim.
“Ultimately, the Followers of the Way dominated the Mahanaim, and they were forced to flee. A small surviving fraction sought refuge in a single star system. A system called Jabbok.”
I had been walking around the bridge while the Jabesh, Arquat, spoke. I was intent on seeing what the J’ni had been up to. Also, walking helped me think and digest what I was being told. When the phrase ‘heavenly realm’ was uttered, I stopped and turned to face the hologram once again.
“You need to explain those last two points. What do you mean when you said your people went to the heavenly realms. Are you saying you spoke to God and he invited you to ascend to heaven?”
Now it was the Jabesh’s turn to shake his head.
“Yes and no. It is true we believe in a divine creator. Our science forces us to accept this conclusion. That said, it is not to this entity to which we appealed. Our technology allows us to work extra-dimensionally. Just as there is sentient life in our four-dimensional reality, the same is true in the higher dimensions. It is to one of these that we sought refuge.”
I nodded. Heavenly realms referred to higher dimensional space. Why this was a solution to the problem of being too powerful to safely co-exist with others w
ithin the universe was apparently beyond my pay grade or ability to understand, I thought to myself.
“Tell me about Jabbok.”
2100.1207.2068 Galactic Normalized Time
The reconnaissance force slowly moved forward. Technology far beyond that used by humanity and even the Galactic Order began to scan the Sol system...
Chapter 24: Dog Fight
The bridge of the Gilboa reminded me of those first days Lori, and I had found ourselves onboard the great ship. Vast, powerful and… empty. True, the J’ni were occupying some of the stations, but the low-level banter that was always present when the ship had a full crew was nowhere to be heard.
Whether this was because the J’ni were just not a chatty people or because of what we were doing and where we were going… I could not tell. The Gilboa was heading into a fight she would very likely not survive… even with all the enhancements that the Jabesh AI had managed to put in place.
My role on the ship was to add that unquantifiable component of skill, luck, and unpredictability that, sometimes, won battles in the face of overwhelming odds.
I finally understood the sequence of events that had occurred to get me to this point. The Mahanaim had been destroyed but not before they put technological minions in place that would see to their survival… or more to the point… their resurrection as a civilization.
Genetic code, in the form of ‘junk DNA’ had been hidden among a vast number of primitive races. The Mahanaim knew that the highly ethical Jabesh would not even consider the euthanasia of such races. In addition, the technology necessary to resurrect the ancient race had been secreted in hidden caches around planets orbiting distant stars.
All that remained to put their plan into motion was to create an artificial intellect capable of reassembling the pieces at some point in the distant future… a future that was now.
The very same AI would share with the resurrected Mahanaim all the knowledge stored within its massive memory banks. While even that was not the sum total of all the knowledge the Mahanaim had amassed over the millennia, it was enough to establish their genetic descendants on the same path and drive them towards technological supremacy.
The Jabesh, recognizing the threat to the future, countered by secreting their own caches of technology and an AI in the person of Arquat. The Tas were recruited to locate and guard the Ancestor technology. The Jabesh knew that simply attempting to destroy them would not be possible. The Mahanaim had been too thorough, and the technology was too dangerous for the Tas or any of the lesser races to handle.
I still wasn’t completely sure how Humanity fit into the puzzle. Arquat had made it clear that we were not a repository for the Ancestor DNA. Humanity was unique in the scheme of things. The fact that the Saulites, Jabesh, and Humanity all shared a common appearance and a surprisingly similar genetic makeup only added to the puzzle.
“Admiral we are approaching the interdiction zone,” Sa’Mi said from his navigation station.
“Understood. Slow to zero-point-zero-zero-one c. Signal the Ticonderoga and Faqqa that we are in position and are preparing to delay the Defiler advance. Extend my compliments and encourage them to make best possible time to our position.”
“Acknowledged Admiral. Reducing velocity to zero-point-zero-zero-one c. I’m updating the Ticonderoga and Faqqa on our position and requesting they join us using best possible speed.”
I turned towards the Gilboa’s avatar.
“How long until our friends have a firing solution on us?”
“Three minutes and forty-two seconds, Sir.”
“And how long until they are within range of our weapons?” I knew the answer already, but I wanted to hear the confirmation.
“They will be in effective range of our enhanced weapon systems in four minutes and twenty-six seconds.”
I sat back in my command chair. Those forty-four seconds, the time between when they could hit us but before we could hit them back, would seem like an eternity. The situation was made worse by a revelation shared by the Ancestor AI that currently resided in systems occupying the entire backup bridge.
The sixteen-plus ships we were facing were far more powerful than anything we had faced before… and they were only a probing force for a much larger armada.
Normally all of that would be cause for concern… and to be honest… it still was. We had one factor in our favor. We had me… and if I didn’t like the rules… I changed them.
“Commander Sa’Mi… make my day. Tell me my little surprise is ready to go.”
The raccoon-like engineer turned slightly in my direction while keeping his paws on the controls he was actively adjusting.
“Please consider your day made, Admiral. Our profile is shifted zero point zero one six degrees relative to the enemy’s position.”
I know what you’re thinking. How much difference can less than two one-hundredths of a degree make? Perhaps you’re even asking yourselves, selves… ‘What’s the Dog’s game here?’
The answer is actually quite simple. Rather than creating a complete sensor ghost of the Gilboa… something the bad guys could probably detect… we were creating a slight shift in our position. Two one-hundredths of a degree of apparent displacement may not sound like much but when you are dealing with distances on the order of two light-seconds. That’s about six-hundred thousand kilometers for those of you keeping count. Those two one-hundredths of a degree really add up. It's literally the difference between a solid hit and a clean miss.
Of course, this Dog was not a one-trick pony. Does that even make sense? Never mind. This Dog was not a one-trick pony because I had actually released a boat-load of neutronium-tipped kinetic missiles just a few minutes before. By boat-load I mean forty-eight of them bad boys.
The missiles had been tied to an exterior rack on the outside of the Gilboa. When I ordered the Gilboa to slow to point-zero-zero-one c, the KEWs were released. As we had been traveling at nearly twenty percent the speed of light… those neutronium-tipped puppies were booking along at roughly sixty thousand kilometers a second.
The beauty of the plan was that as we slowed, we changed course slightly. The KEWs we dropped faithfully continued to obey Newtonian physics and remained on course to intercept the bad guys… assuming we did the math right and the bad guys were good enough to remain on their current heading and speed.
Since there was no exhaust plume to track, the missiles were cold. Cold is always harder to see than hot. Also, since we were moving away from where we had released our KEWs, I was hopeful they would not be spotted until most of our missiles had had a chance to get up close and personal. The nice thing about KEWs once they got ‘up close and personal’ to the enemy… was that they tended to ruin the enemy’s day. Call me selfish, but I liked it when that happened.
I tapped the comm on my command chair.
“Arquat how are those shield adjustments coming?”
“The shields are fully modulated… within the limits of what this hardware can deliver. I estimate they will withstand one or perhaps two direct hits.”
“Understood. Try not to let them hit us. How long will it take to regenerate them? I…”
Sa’Mi interrupted me before I could finish.
“Detecting launches. The Defilers have fired their first round of kinetics. Estimating fourteen seconds until impact. Twelve seconds before they attempt to target us with energy weapons.”
“Evasive beta two. Get some distance between us and those inbound kinetics.”
“Roger that, initiating evasive pattern beta two. A second round of kinetics just launched.”
“Beta 3. How long before our stealth KEWs hit them?”
“Beta 3, roger. It seems most of our KEWs missed the targets… wait! We have one… correction make that three hits. Their shields have overloaded, and they have gone critical.”
I would have celebrated, but I was too busy flying head over heels across the bridge. The ship felt like it had hit a brick wall. The fact that it
was a marble-sized piece of collapsed matter that weighed as much as three Gilboa’s was simply incidental.
As I crashed into the side of a bulkhead, I felt a momentary pulse of a forcefield. It prevented me from hitting the wall as hard as I might have. It was one of the myriads of small enhancements my J’ni friends had built over the last several days. It was a small thing, but often it’s the small things that matter most.
“Status?” I barked.
“Shields are down to thirty-eight percent. All other systems nominal,” Gil answered.
“How long before we have a viable firing solution?”
Sa’Mi checked his board before answering. “Twenty-nine seconds, Admiral.”
Twenty-nine seconds might as well have been twenty-nine days. With each passing second, the enemy’s accuracy was going to improve. One thing was certain, we couldn’t take many more hits like the one we just did. Without the recent upgrades, the Gilboa would not have survived that first hit, much less anything else she was likely to have to deal with.
“Gil hit our first jump. Move us out a full light minute. We have to rethink what we’re doing here.”
“Jumping now…”
Nothing happened.
“Gil?”
Arquat answered instead.
“Admiral, the Defilers have deployed a Skip drive inhibitor. I did not think they had access to that level of technology. Clearly, I was mistaken.”
“Clearly,” I repeated with just a hint of sarcasm. Time for Plan B.
“Fire a spread of nukes and detonate at five hundred kilometers. Follow them with a full spread of kinetics… followed by another round of nukes set to detonate at one thousand kilometers.”
“Beginning firing sequence now, Admiral,” Sa’Mi reported. “Admiral,” he continued after the briefest of pauses, “I wish to point out that none of those nuclear warheads will be anywhere near the enemy when they detonate. It is unlikely in the extreme that they will damage the attacking vessels.”