Ep.#14 - The Weak and the Innocent (The Frontiers Saga)

by Ryk Brown

  “But why attack the ground forces?” Kata wondered. “Surely they presented no threat to the people of Earth?”

  “Of that we cannot be sure. There may have been comm-drones hidden within each system that could have been used by those forces on the ground to communicate with the nearest Jung forces, or the Jung homeworld itself. Such calls for help could result in renewed attacks against Earth.”

  “But innocent people died during those attacks. Civilians, in addition to military.”

  “How is it that a civilian population of a world that hosts, and possibly even supports the Jung empire’s actions, holds no responsibility for those actions?” the admiral countered. “If you tell me you are planning to murder your cameraman, and I do nothing to stop you—perhaps warn the authorities, or the potential victim himself—am I not considered culpable in the eyes of the law?”

  “What if those people were unaware of the Jung’s actions outside of their system?”

  “Is it not their responsibility to know what those they allow to reside upon their worlds are really doing, especially if they are helping them by providing resources?”

  “Some of those worlds were taken by force, were they not?” Kata answered. “How are they ‘culpable’, as you put it?”

  “They are not. However, those worlds have welcomed their liberation, haven’t they?”

  “Couldn’t you have warned the populations of those worlds prior to invasion in order to reduce or eliminate the deaths of innocent people?” Kata asked.

  “We are outnumbered, and outgunned, by a substantial margin. Our two greatest weapons thus far have been our ability to instantaneously jump between the stars, and surprise. Had we alerted the worlds we intended to attack prior to doing so, we would have lost the element of surprise, and quite possibly might have lost the battle as well.”

  “But you could have conducted a surprise attack against the ships in space, and then issued a warning to the civilians on the surface that you intended to attack the Jung forces on the surface as well. That would have given them time to get out of harm’s way.”

  “Had we done so, the Jung forces on the surface would have either taken the civilian population as hostages, using them as a shield against attack, or simply executed them to punish us for daring to attack them.”

  “Admiral, I find it hard to believe that the Jung would murder the entire population of a world just to send a message to the Alliance…”

  “I must remind you of the Kentarans,” the admiral interrupted. “They had no foreknowledge of our attack against those forces, and we did not even attempt to attack the Jung forces on the surface, for exactly the reasons that you seemed to be so concerned about. Yet, the Jung had no problem driving a battleship loaded with more than twenty antimatter cores on board, with their containment fields in the process of collapse, into that world, utterly destroying it, just to send us a message. The Kentarans did not rebel or revolt against the Jung, despite the fact that their world had only recently been occupied…by force.”

  “But…”

  “Miss Mun,” the admiral continued, not allowing her to get a word in just yet, “are you aware that the Jung have been rounding up anyone on Kohara they suspect of being an Alliance collaborator, and executing them on the spot? No investigation, no evidence, no trial…”

  Kata Mun glanced at Karahl behind the porta-cam, wondering if he had heard anything about the executions on their homeworld, but he only shrugged his shoulders.

  “…And why might they do that,” the admiral continued, “if not to send a message to either your people, mine, or perhaps both? Are those the actions of a just and benevolent ruler, or are they the actions of a totalitarian regime bent on galactic conquest, regardless of the human cost?”

  Kata took a moment to regain her composure before continuing, obviously affected by the admiral’s revelation about the continued suffering on her homeworld at the hands of the Jung. “If the Alliance is outnumbered and outgunned, how do you expect worlds with no space-borne military to resist Jung occupation? You yourself said the Jung are willing to destroy entire worlds just to send a message. How can Kohara, who has never had any military forces, let alone ones in space, fight such a force?”

  “They cannot,” Dumar replied. “And I do not expect them to. That is why the Alliance takes the actions it does… To protect the weak and the innocent from those who would prey upon them.”

  Again Kata had to stop and think, as none of her remaining questions seemed relevant. After a heartfelt sigh, she finally continued. “Admiral, why now? Why not years from now, when the Alliance is stronger, the Earth is stronger…”

  “The Earth did not start this war,” Admiral Dumar replied, “and neither did the Alliance.” Dumar paused a moment. “Earlier we spoke of destiny…of events falling into place, a string of opportunities that when seized led to bigger things. This is such a string of opportunities…or, if you prefer…destiny. Could it have been avoided? Yes. In fact, the unified government of Earth was building the Aurora for the very purpose of reaching out diplomatically to the Jung in order to explore ways to coexist in peace. Unfortunately, the Jung were not interested, and chose to attack the first ship that attempted to leave the Sol system. Did they do so because of its jump drive, or because they wanted to destroy it before it could be put into use, for they knew it would lead to their downfall? We will never know. However, I do know this. We must all deal with the Jung now, while it is still possible to do so. For if we chose to turn our backs, eventually we will have no choice, and by then it will be too late.”

  * * *

  “Launch speed in three minutes, Captain,” Mister Chiles reported from the Aurora’s helm.

  “Very well,” Nathan replied. He slowly rotated to his left, coming around to check on the utility station in the aft port corner of the bridge. “How’s it looking, Lieutenant Tillardi?”

  “Jump KKV prototype systems all show green, sir,” the lieutenant replied. “We’re ready to raise the device into launch position.”

  “Mister Delaveaga, if you please?” Nathan requested.

  “Raising starboard main elevator pad to launch position,” Luis replied.

  “Shuttle Four has just jumped into the launch area,” Mister Navashee reported.

  “Receiving message from Shuttle Four,” Ensign Souza announced. “The target area and all areas down range are clear.”

  “Very well.” Nathan turned back to Lieutenant Tillardi. “There’s no chance we’re going to send some chunk spiraling toward Earth, is there?”

  “Not a chance,” the lieutenant assured him. “If the weapon even glances that chunk of ice, there won’t be anything bigger than a snowflake left of it.”

  “Just checking,” Nathan replied.

  “One minute,” Mister Chiles said.

  “Starboard pad is in position,” Lieutenant Delaveaga reported.

  “Running final checks now,” Lieutenant Tillardi added.

  “Coming up on launch point,” Mister Chiles announced. “Speed is fifty percent light.”

  “Kill your mains,” Nathan ordered.

  “Mains coming down,” the helmsman replied.

  “Release the device,” Nathan instructed Lieutenant Tillardi.

  “Release the device, aye,” the lieutenant responded. “Device is away.”

  “Translate downward, Mister Chiles… Nice and easy,” Nathan directed. “Put up the pad cameras.”

  The image on the main view screen changed suddenly, showing the jump KKV as it slowly rose from its launch cradle sitting in the middle of the starboard elevator pad at the top of the Aurora’s forward section.

  “Three meters separation, and increasing,” Lieutenant Delaveaga reported.

  “Bring up the deceleration drive, Mister Chiles,” Nathan ordered. �
��One percent only.”

  “Opening outer doors,” Mister Chiles replied. “Decel drive is hot. One percent, firing.”

  The image of the jump KKV rising from the top of the ship appeared to drift forward as well, as the Aurora’s forward speed began to fall in relation to the device.

  “Increase separation rate by fifty percent,” Nathan ordered.

  “Increasing separation rate, aye,” Mister Chiles responded.

  “Device jump point in two minutes,” Mister Riley reported. “Our jump point in ninety seconds.”

  “Running final systems check now,” Lieutenant Tillardi announced.

  “The device is on course and speed,” Mister Navashee confirmed from the sensor station.

  “Decel up smartly, slow us down,” Nathan ordered.

  “Deceleration drive to full power,” the helmsman replied.

  Nathan watched as the jump KKV rapidly shrank, disappearing from view seconds later as the Aurora fell further and further behind it with each passing second.

  “I don’t suppose you’re planning on putting engines in these things?” Nathan wondered.

  “Not at the moment, no,” the lieutenant replied.

  “Seems like a lot of propellant to burn, bringing the whole ship up to half light just to launch a KKV.”

  “It would take a hell of an engine to get them up to speed on their own,” Lieutenant Tillardi explained, “but we are working on a variant of the Scout class, with beefed up engines and greater propellant storage, that should be able to launch them instead.”

  “Thirty seconds to jump,” Mister Chiles reported. “I have the final jump algorithms for the device ready, sir.”

  “Transmit the updated jump algorithms,” Nathan ordered.

  “Transmitting,” Ensign Souza replied.

  Lieutenant Tillardi watched his telemetry screen for a moment. “Algorithms updated,” he finally announced. “We’re good to go.”

  “Clear to jump, Mister Riley,” Nathan ordered.

  “Aye, sir. Jumping in ten seconds.”

  “Forward cameras.”

  The view screen switched back to the main forward-facing cameras again.

  “Jumping in three……two……one……”

  The jump flash briefly illuminated the interior of the Aurora’s bridge with its familiar blue-white light.

  “Jump complete.”

  “Target in sight,” Lieutenant Delaveaga reported. “Twenty seconds to impact.”

  Lieutenant Tillardi turned to face forward. There was nothing left for him to do but wait, and hope.

  “Verify range is clear,” Nathan ordered.

  “Range is clear, Captain,” Mister Navashee replied.

  “Ten sec…”

  “…Jump flash!” Mister Navashee shouted, cutting the lieutenant off.

  “Weapon inbound, impact in five…”

  “Full magnification,” Nathan ordered.

  “…three…”

  Lieutenant Tillardi stood, moving slowly forward as if drawn toward the tumbling chunk of ice on the main view screen.

  “…one……imp…”

  A flash of light appeared on the main view screen where the chunk of ice had once been. The light immediately faded, revealing a spreading sea of tiny particles of ice, reflecting the faint light from the distant star like a glimmering mist.

  “Target is destroyed,” Mister Navashee reported, disappointment evident in his voice.

  Nathan looked at Lieutenant Tillardi, who looked crestfallen. “Something wrong?”

  “It was early, wasn’t it?” he replied, turning toward Luis at the tactical station.

  “Only half a second, Til,” Luis replied sympathetically.

  “But it did work,” Nathan reminded them. “The target was obliterated.”

  “Yeah, but it was a head-on shot,” Lieutenant Tillardi replied. “If it had been a side shot at a fast moving target, it would’ve missed.”

  “Mister Chiles,” Nathan said as he rose from his command chair, “continue deceleration and jump us back to Earth as soon as we get down to something resembling orbital velocity again.”

  “It’s got to be something in the jump sequencer,” Luis suggested. “A few lines of unnecessary code, or something?”

  “We went over that code a hundred times,” the lieutenant said.

  “Don’t worry, Tilly, you’ll fix it,” Nathan assured him as he turned to head aft.

  Lieutenant Tillardi looked at Nathan. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because billions of Cetian lives depend on it,” Nathan replied with an impish grin as he patted him on the shoulder in passing.

  Tilly sneered at him. “Oh, thanks. Thanks a lot…really.”

  * * *

  Naralena felt weak. She had eaten only a single piece of flat bread per day for the past three days, and had been given precious little water to wash it down with.

  The last thing she remembered before her prison cell was the burning sensation in her leg, and then falling in the water…

  Then hands. Lots of them.

  There had been voices speaking Jung during her attempt to escape. She remembered that. Odd, though, that she had heard no one speaking around her since her capture.

  She had been locked in a small room, barely large enough for her to lie down. There had been a couple of ratty blankets, a very old pillow, and a large bucket for her bodily waste, of which luckily there had been little.

  There was also a small window—more of a vent, really—that was so high up she could not reach it to see outside. It was her only source of light, as well as her only method to track the passing of time. She had found it oddly amusing that she couldn’t find anything in her cell with which to scratch markings on the wall to count the days of her imprisonment. Then again, it had only been three days.

  Or was it four?

  She had tried to pass the time as best she could. She even tried singing, but by the end of the second day, her spirits had declined so much that she couldn’t bring herself to utter a note. The nights were the worst. In the daytime, she could fold up the blankets and make herself a nice pad to sit upon. Night was different. Night was cold. Not the bitter, frigid cold that eventually knocks you out, but the lingering chill that just keeps you awake.

  The cement floors did not help.

  Her only contact with the outside world was the man who would slide open a small hatch at the bottom of the door and slip the flat bread and a cup of water through to her. She called to him each time, all three of them… Or was it four? She begged him to tell her where she was, who they were, and what they wanted from her. Had they asked, she would have gladly told them anything.

  Shameful, really. Without any real torture, she was willing to tell them everything she knew. Then again, it wasn’t like she really knew anything of value. Not like Jessica. Jessica would have been a gold mine of information, if captured by the Jung.

  Of course, Jessica would never have allowed herself to fall into the hands of the enemy.

  Even worse, the isolation made it impossible for her to not think about things that only served to depress her even more. Sergeant Weatherly, Gerard, Major Willard. The millions who had died on Earth, as well as all the other worlds the Jung had conquered…or punished for not allowing themselves to be conquered.

  Of course, such thoughts only served to boost her defiance. She would not tell them anything, no matter how much they tortured her. Then again, she didn’t really know anything. So why were they keeping her locked up for days on end, without so much as a single question? They had not even asked for her name. But they would, of that she was sure.

  And she was right.

  She had no warning, no footfalls in the corridor outside h
er door, if there was a corridor. The door just suddenly swung open, bright sunlight spilling inside, silhouetting a burly man with a bag in one hand and a rope in the other. She cried and pleaded as he approached her with menacing intent. She thought about trying to get around him, to make a break for the door, but with her wounded leg and her weakened condition she had not the strength to resist.

  So she did not.

  The bag came down over her head, she was pushed to the ground, and the rope was tied painfully tight around her wrists. She was then picked up from the floor and led out of her cell. Where was he taking her? What was going to happen to her?

  All she could do was sob.

  She felt the warmth of the Cetian sun on her shoulders as she was marched, limping, across bare open ground. She could smell the dust, taste it as the breeze whipped it around them. Her foot struck a step and she tumbled forward, her brutish escort roughly grabbing her arm to keep her upright as they entered another building. He shoved her to the left and they walked down another corridor. Another left, and then he pushed her down, into a chair.

  An actual chair, she thought with relief. A silly thing to be thankful for. She heard more footsteps, but still no talking. The man pulled at her hands, but not to untie them. Instead, he bound them to the chair in which she sat.

  Then the door slammed shut.

  She sat there for perhaps a full minute, fighting back the tears, and listening. Listening for the sound of movement. Listening for the sound of someone breathing. Was she alone?

  “Hello?” she asked in Jung. “Is anybody there?”

  There was a rustling of fabric nearby, then the hood covering her head was pulled away. Bright sunlight shone through the open window, blinding her. She had barely seen any light at all, over the last few days, save for that tiny stream coming through the vent in her cell.