by James Rosone
McKee shook her head in dismay as she reviewed the battle that had just taken place. The enemy vessels had jumped into the middle of the fleet, slashing and dashing as much as they could before her task force of battleships and cruisers could stop them.
“Ops, how many ships did we lose?” McKee asked, dreading the answer as she knew it would be high.
Before her Ops section could answer, the video display next to her captain’s chair popped on, and Admiral Halsey’s face appeared. “Captain McKee, that was some quick thinking and good shooting. I’m ordering the fleet that hasn’t jumped away to continue with the landings. We need to get our forces offloaded as quickly as possible. Please disregard my previous order about screening for the fleet. Intersperse your task force as best you can to prevent another raid like that. I’ve sent a message to the Altairians as well. They said they’re dispatching two cruisers to assist us. We should expect them to show up within the next hour.”
McKee nodded in acknowledgment. “Yes, ma’am. Do you still want my air wings to support the Deltas and the RA landings?” she offered. “I’d like to send some medical shuttles down to pick up their wounded if possible. Many of them have already been waiting hours for help.”
A short pause ensued as the admiral gazed off in another direction, calculating her response. Finally, she replied, “That sounds like a good plan, Captain. Proceed. Halsey out.”
The screen went black.
Seeing her bridge crew intently focused on their tasks, McKee stood up and walked over to her operations section. “Ops, send a message down to Flight Ops,” she said. “Tell them to reposition our fighters and bombers to support the Deltas and the RA as they land. Tell the medical transports to start picking up the wounded down on the surface and bring them back to the GW.”
“Yes, Captain, right away,” Arnold replied.
McKee used her communicator since she was out of range of the neurolink, pinging her chief engineer. “Commander Lyons, how bad is the damage?” she asked. “How soon can you complete repairs?”
A minute went by before she got a response. “Captain, we took some hard hits. The starboard launch tubes on the flight deck are offline. Deck five has a hull breach in section H. I’m trying to get that area sealed up and repaired. We also had five more primary turrets go down, along with three more secondary turrets and the starboard torpedo tubes. It’s going to take some time to get everything back online.”
McKee sighed before she replied. “OK, Commander, keep me posted on that hull breach.”
“Will do, Captain. But please do keep in mind, this is going to take days to repair, not hours. Lyons out.”
Before he signed off, McKee could hear a lot of shouting and alarms going off in the background. Lyons was clearly busy, and a lot was going on. She knew he was probably deploying his small army of synthetic repair workers to the hull breach. The team of Synths could operate on the outside of the ship and throw together some temporary patches. Those humanoid repair workers had saved many ships during this war.
Using her communicator to contact the medbay, McKee asked, “Dr. Michaels, what’s the situation like down there?”
“How do you think it’s going, Captain?” the doctor responded sharply. “We’ve been in a battle. I’ve got casualties. People are dying down here.”
Dr. Lane Michaels was the lead doctor on the George Washington. He was a brilliant surgeon and medical practitioner, but he was also a staunch pacifist. After being drafted a couple of years ago, he’d begrudgingly accepted a posting to the GW. He’d been selected to be the lead doctor on the ship because of his experience as an attending physician at the University of Chicago Hospital. Despite his position at the famous teaching hospital, his prominence within the community, all the work he was doing in Chicago, and his position as a pacifist, he had been unable to avoid the draft. He was often unable to hide his bitterness at the position he’d been placed in.
“It’s bad up here too, Doc,” McKee answered calmly. “How many casualties are down there?” she pressed.
A moment went by before he replied, “Roughly two hundred and thirty injured. Another three hundred or so were either killed or spaced during the hull breach. I was just told we have six medical transports inbound with more than two hundred wounded humans and Prims from Intus.” Dr. Michaels paused. “Are you evacuating the wounded from the planet already?” he asked. “We’re not ready to receive them yet.”
Trying to maintain her composure, McKee responded, “Dr. Michaels, we have thousands of soldiers down on the surface battling the Zodarks for hours. Many of them require trauma care. They’re inbound, and you’re going to treat them.”
She then cut off the transmission, not wanting to argue with him further. He had a job to do, and so did she.
Chapter Four
New Allies
Planet Altairius
After months of traveling across the galaxy, Rear Admiral Miles Hunt and his small entourage had finally arrived in Altairius, the Altairian home world and the center of the Galactic Empire.
Hunt stood in awe of the beauty of this new planet, admiring the view from the windows on the observation deck of the ship. In orbit around Altairius were several orbital stations and space elevators, while hundreds of smaller commercial spacecraft darted between the stations and the planet below. The planet had several vast continents surrounded by bodies of water. Even from space, one could see massive cities dotting the coasts of the continents.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Miles?” Lilly asked as she wrapped her arms around her husband.
He smiled as he turned his head to his wife. “It sure is, but not nearly as beautiful as you.”
Lilly blushed. “Oh wow. That was cheesy, mister. Tell me you didn’t stay up all night working on that one,” she joked as she poked him in the ribs.
Miles chuckled. “Oh, I was up all night all right, but it wasn’t working on some corny joke,” he joked back.
Lilly shook her head and laughed, then suddenly turned very serious. “I suppose this is the part of the trip where you’ll be gone a lot?” she inquired softly.
Miles squeezed her as he replied, “I think so, but I’ll do my best to keep that to a minimum if at all possible. I also talked with Handolly about the spouses on board. He’s arranging for some day trips and other activities for everyone. It’s part of their cultural exchange program.” Hunt couldn’t completely conceal a hint of jealousy at the spouses’ itineraries—touring the Altairian worlds sounded like more fun than his schedule.
“What will you be doing while I’m gone?” Lilly inquired as she stared out the viewing window.
Miles shrugged his shoulders. “Probably drinking from a firehose. It sounds like us Earthers have a lot of catching up to do if we’re going to be a serious spacefaring species and member of this Galactic Empire.”
Lilly kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sure you’ll do fine,” she responded.
The two of them stood there taking in the view a little longer before going back to their room to pack their few belongings in preparation to leave the ship.
*******
A few hours later, Hunt stood next to Handolly as they prepared to teleport to the surface, the transportation method preferred by the Altairians over shuttles or space elevators. Hunt mentally prepared himself to spend the next few days being awed by the Altairian technology and advancements.
Though he did have some doubts about the new alliance, he kept them to himself. He’d had to prioritize preserving his species and their way of life. Despite many attempts to speak with the Zodarks, the only peace terms the Zodarks would agree to were Earth’s complete surrender. That wasn’t something Miles or the human race could ever accept.
When Hunt and Handolly materialized on the surface, they appeared in a promenade or gathering place. Hunt was taken aback, for the first time seeing multiple races of aliens walking about freely like it was normal for many alien races to interact and live amongst each other.
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Handolly saw the astonishment on Hunt’s face. “It is different to witness so many races in person. It is a lot different than seeing them in videos and pictures, is it not?” he asked in his normal emotionless, formal way of speaking.
Hunt didn’t respond right away. He just nodded slightly. He found himself watching, and then staring at, an unfamiliar type of alien. It had a long face with large lavender eyes that had catlike black pupils. It didn’t have any hair. Instead, its skin appeared reptilian, covered in what weren’t scales but were more like a tough, leathery version of a lizard’s skin. The alien stood roughly the height of a shorter human and scurried past him like it hadn’t even noticed him.
Without any eyelids, it was always hard to tell Handolly’s mood, but Hunt thought he detected a hint of amusement in his voice as he explained, “That is a Prodigal. They are a trading race. Terrible warriors, but exceptional traders and shipbuilders. They are actually the species building your new flagship right now.”
Miles just shook his head. Everything here was so different, so foreign to everything he’d known up to this point.
“Come this way, Miles. We have much more to show you,” Handolly said as he escorted Hunt.
The two of them continued to walk across the promenade until they came to the entrance of a building several hundred meters tall. Despite the height of the building, it was still tiny in comparison to the buildings surrounding it. Miles used to think the towering buildings of New York City were big—these buildings dwarfed those. They went right up into the clouds.
Hunt and Handolly came upon two doors that were three meters wide and ten meters high. Several guards inside the building snapped to attention as Handolly approached. Once inside, Miles’s eyes went wide as saucers. He barely kept his jaw from falling to the floor. On either side of the interior walls were enormous columns made of marble or a similar material. It reminded him of ancient Greek columns he’d seen in pictures. The bases of the columns stood at least a meter tall and two meters wide before the columns reached up to the ornate ceiling, reminiscent of a baroque exhibit Miles had studied in a museum back on Earth. The columns reached at least fifty meters to the ceiling and the decorated arch beams that held the ceiling up.
Realizing that in his moment of awe, Handolly had strolled ahead of him, Hunt walked briskly after him to catch up. The long corridor continued for over a hundred meters before it opened into an even larger room.
“Handolly, what is this place?” Hunt asked in wonder as he continued to take in everything around him. Periodically, he spotted a door or two between the columns, presumably leading off to another room.
Handolly turned to his human guest as he replied, “This place, Miles, is our palace: the seat of government for the Galactic Empire.” He paused before adding, “The rooms you see on the sides are offices for different departments in the GE. The room we are about to enter is the Grand Hall. It is where we host celebrations and parties for Galactic Empire members.”
Hunt let out a soft whistle as they entered the Grand Hall. “What are we doing here?” he asked.
The two of them walked over to what Hunt assumed to be an elevator. “I am taking you to your first Galactic Empire meeting,” Handolly said as he gestured for Hunt to get on the platform.
Moments later, the glass tube moved skyward. As they moved up, the tube lifted out of the lower portion of the building, giving them a full panoramic view of the city as they traversed upward.
When they reached their destination, Hunt had to chuckle when he heard a chiming sound before the door opened. Millions of light-years away, and elevators still make a familiar ding when you reach your floor, he thought. I guess some things transcend species.
The two of them walked off the elevator and down the corridor, which was equally grand as the corridor on the ground floor. They eventually came to the entrance of a large room at the end of the hall. As they approached the door, Hunt heard voices—many types of voices speaking many languages. Then he saw a large round table in the center of the room.
As soon as they entered, everyone stood and acknowledged Handolly. They then collectively turned and eyed Hunt skeptically. He was, after all, the new alien species: the unknown human.
Handolly introduced Hunt to twenty new races of species Hunt hadn’t known existed. They all talked at him in their own languages, leaving Hunt to wonder what they were saying. A second later, an Altairian walked up to him with a small autoinjector device.
“Do not be afraid,” the Altairian said calmly. “I am going to inject a universal translator into your inner ear. It will allow you to understand everything that is being said.”
Before Hunt could ask a question or protest, the Altairian had placed the device next to his right ear and injected something into it. A second later, the process was repeated in his left ear.
Hunt could hear the people sitting around the table clearly now. A few of them laughed at his realization that he could now understand them. A few others grumbled, annoyed that their meeting was held up to greet an inferior species that was being allowed to join their alliance.
Turning to face Hunt, Handolly said loud enough for the others to hear, “Admiral Miles Hunt, this is the Galactic Empire war council. The council meets regularly to discuss the overall war effort and to coordinate our member objectives. It is through this coordinated effort that we have been able to hold the line against the Dominion. This,” Handolly said as he pointed to an empty chair, “is where you will be seated. However, right now, you will accompany me to another room, where Bjork from the Primord Union and I will bring you up to speed on how the Galactic Empire operates, our enemy, the Dominion, and your species’ function and position on the war council.”
A couple of members seated at the table stood and walked over to greet Hunt before Handolly and Bjork walked with him to a room nearby. It was the first time Hunt had seen a Primord—Bjork looked almost human to him, with a few exceptions. He was approximately the same height and had the same number of limbs, with similar hands, but his ears were pointy, his nose was long and angled, and his skin had a light gold tint.
When Hunt and his two minders entered the room, they took a seat at a small circular table to talk.
Bjork was the first to speak once they sat down. “Do you prefer to be called by your military title, your given name, or your surname?”
Hunt smiled as he replied, trying to be as amicable as possible. “My friends call me Miles.”
Bjork smiled. “I am glad the two of us can be friends. My name is Bjork Terboven. I am considered an admiral among my people, but for the purposes of the Galactic Empire, I currently serve as a senator on both the war and political councils.”
“It sounds like you have a busy job,” Miles commented.
Bjork shrugged his shoulders. “Being, as you would say, ‘dual-hatted’ allows me to know what is going on across the Alliance to better serve my people. You should consider doing the same. It will serve your people best.”
“I will have to inquire about that,” Miles replied. “It may not be my decision to make. There are those more senior than I am that may choose to place me elsewhere.”
Changing the subject, Bjork asked, “Do you want to know why our tables are in the shape of circles?”
Miles tilted his head. “I don’t think I had thought about that,” he responded. “Please, tell me.”
Bjork lifted his head up slightly. “The tables are circles to represent each of us as equals. When a species joins the Galactic Empire, they become equal within the Alliance. As you saw earlier, the Alliance has a war council. We also have a senate. Each species is required to send five representatives to serve in the senate. Three of the senators are required to be on Altairius to be a part of the senate while the other two are required to be back on their core worlds. This ensures both the core worlds and the senate are represented by the citizens of the Empire.”
“Is there a leader in the senate?” Miles asked, genuinely curi
ous. “Someone that ultimately governs the Galactic Empire?”
Bjork smiled briefly. “The senate elects a chancellor who serves as the governing head of the Galactic Empire. The chancellor’s term of office is seven years. There are no term limits, though the chancellor needs to be reconfirmed by majority vote every seventh year unless a vote of no confidence is proposed. However, these are political questions you are asking, and what Handolly and I are here to talk with you about are military questions. The ambassador that accompanied you on the trip will handle the political aspects for the Galactic Empire for the humans unless you become dual-hatted like me.”
Miles blushed slightly. “My apologies, Bjork. I’m sure Ambassador Nina Chapman will bring me up to speed on all of this at a later date. This is all new to me, and I’m just trying to do my best to understand. We humans have a saying on Earth, ‘drinking from the firehose.’ It means a person is taking in more information than they can absorb.”
Bjork turned to Handolly. “Perhaps we should give him a knowledge injection,” he suggested.
Turning to Miles, Handolly nodded. “I shall send for one.”
“Whoa—what do you want to inject me with this time?” Miles countered in protest.
“Fear not, Miles,” Bjork said cheerfully. “The Empire has studied and observed the human species for a long time. We know a great deal about your physiology and genetic makeup. We’ve extensively studied the human brain as well. It is actually an incredible neural network. Its ability to learn and absorb information is truly remarkable. The challenge you humans have with your brain is accessing instant recall of all the information you are continually absorbing.
“When your species employed neurolinks and some cybernetic implants like the ones you currently have, you more than doubled the intellectual ability of your species. However, what we are going to inject you with is a chemical compound that will allow you to absorb, analyze, and understand faster. We have a lot of information we need to impart to you, and not a lot of time to do it, I’m afraid.”