by C M Benamati
“If you show us where, we will do our best to take you there.”
The hangar erupted with cheers and cries of relief.
“If,” said Mog.
The cheering quieted down somewhat.
“If Earth can help us. We need your weapon, what you used when you split the Ta’Krell command ship in half. This is an Earth weapon, yes?”
Del Toro stiffened. “Weapon? I don’t know what you are talking about. Our engines malfunctioned, and we ended up here, in a pocket of space with no stars. I don’t even know where here is. As to that ship being split in half, our best guess is that we hit it just as we dropped back into normal space.”
“It was their drive!”
Kremp, the engineer, was jumping up and down excitedly. He was speaking to the other Maurians, but the earbuds translated indiscriminately. “I was looking at the data. It makes sense now! It wasn’t a hyperdrive. Mog, it was a distortion drive.”
“Warp drive,” said Del Toro. He glared at Morgan and Victor before continuing. “This ship was a top secret experiment. It failed.”
“No,” said Mog. “It succeeded. You have developed a weapon of unimaginable power. We must form an alliance to stop the destroyers before they complete their genocide. Will you help us?”
For the first time since the conversation had started, Del Toro looked uneasy. “That might take some work,” he said. “I’m not authorized to speak on behalf of the nations of Earth, but the ISF, the military arm of the United Nations, would perhaps be interested in a technological exchange. I…can’t promise anything here. However, a good faith gesture on your part would go a long way. Perhaps as we are currently stranded here—”
“Of course,” said Mog. “We will go to Earth, and we will speak to your nations and to your military. We will bring you home as a gesture of good faith.”
We’re going to Earth! He’s done it! Morgan had to refrain himself from running to del Toro and hugging him. Calm down. It’s still not going to be easy. What’s going to happen when we all show up and knock on Earth’s door? Total anarchy, most likely. Riots in the streets. “Riots, in Blairsford,” he whispered, and giggled.
The Maurians turned to look at him. His stupid translator had amplified everything he’d said.
“Blairsford,” he said, catching Jason’s eye. The lieutenant smiled and winked at him.
“What is this Blairsford?” said Mog.
Morgan grinned. Hey mom and dad, I just got an alien to say the name of our town. First time ever! “It’s my home town. It’s where I’m from.”
The big alien flashed what might be a toothy smile. “Blairsford,” he growled.
“Yeah, that’s right,” said Morgan. Funny. Now that I’ve got the big guy saying it, it doesn’t sound so strange anymore.
Chapter 32
After the Maurians left, Del Toro called all of the thirty-six Sagitta survivors together. They sat huddled in a circle in the center of the bay. Morgan was tired, and his muscles were shaky in the absence of the adrenaline rush that had come with the encounter with Mog.
To Morgan’s surprise, Victor had joined them.
“I don’t see what the problem is,” said Victor. “I mean, assuming for now that these aliens are actually the good guys, and that they’re bringing us back to Earth.”
“They want our help, that’s the problem,” mumbled Jack through a mouthful of the disgusting stew that the creatures had brought. “They expect us to help them fight a war.”
“But it’s their war, not ours,” said Victor. “We’re not obliged to do anything.”
“I don’t know about that,” said a man Morgan didn’t know. “Like it or not, we’re involved now, and we can’t expect them to bring us back to Earth without asking for something in return.”
“A military alliance is asking a lot,” said Jason.
“Not if the Ta’Krell are heading for Earth.” said Jack.
They were all quiet for a moment. The Sagitta had picked sides the moment it dropped out of warp. What if the Ta’Krell had learned the location of Earth from the ship’s computers?
“There is one thing I don’t get,” said Jack. “Why did the Sagitta slip back into normal space at the exact spot of the hellcat’s command ship?”
Morgan looked at Ensign Blake. She was the only surviving member of the Sagitta’s engineering team. She was young, perhaps fresh out of engineering school. Pretty, in a shy sort of way. She was biting at her nails, her face partially hidden by her light brown hair.
“What do you think, Ann?” said Del Toro.
Ensign Blake looked uncomfortable. “I’m no physicist, and I don’t claim to understand Dr. Fowler’s research. I was assigned to this mission because I worked with Lasky Spaceworks on the Firefly design. I’m not too familiar with the Sagitta’s engines.”
“That’s alright,” said Del Toro. “You worked with Roland’s crew, and you must have overheard something. You’re certainly more qualified than the rest of us. Please, share your thoughts.”
Blake nodded. “Roland and Boyle thought it had something to do with the hellcat’s command ship, and by hellcats I mean the Ta’Krell. We only have a few milliseconds of sensor data to go on, but they seemed to think that the command ship was generating some sort of strange energy wave. It affected the fabric of space somehow. We went really fast. The distance we travelled would normally have taken us months, and that would be with the EnGineus drive working at maximum theoretical output.”
“They pulled us across space,” said Del Toro.
“Yes,” said Blake. “I think so. It was some strange interaction with the EnGineus drive, and for some reason they thought the ship’s computer might also be involved. I do know it burned out the computer core, at the end. Roland was trying to get the drive working manually, at the end, but there was just no way without an AI to modulate the field. Even if Sagitta hadn’t been destroyed, we would have been stranded.”
Something stabbed into his palm. Morgan looked down at his clenched fist and realized it was his own fingernails. EnGineus. Liz’s mother had died because of her own invention, and now her daughter had died too, thanks to him.
He felt the tears coming, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. He stood, excusing himself, and went quickly to the other side of the bay towards the latrine. Once out of sight, he sat down with his back against a stack of barrels, pulled his shirt collar over his face, and sobbed.
∆∆∆
“Commander Mog, are you awake?” The night shift leader’s voice blurted from the small com speaker next to Mog’s head.
Mog opened his eyes. “Lights,” he said. Groggily, he rolled off of the bed and stood. His quarters were a disaster. He hadn’t bothered picking anything up since the last battle.
“Yes Uir, what is it?”
“I thought you’d like to know that our salvage operation has concluded.”
Mog perked up. “What have you found?”
“Mostly tiny hull fragments. The biggest piece is what looks to be part of a shuttle bay door, but it’s severely damaged. There’s no sign of the Ta’Krell ship that we disabled.”
“They got away?”
“Looks like they got their engines fixed and ran for it.”
“Nazpah. Is Ryal up there?”
“He is.”
Of course he is. He never sleeps. “Tell him to get down here. I want to talk to him.”
“Yes sir.”
Mog stumbled into the small bathroom that adjoined his quarters—a luxury afforded only to himself and Ryal. He splashed cold water on his face. He should be satisfied with their victory. I wanted that ship!
What did the Ta’Krell look like? The young human’s words had disturbed him greatly. The Ta’Krell look just like you.
The door chime sounded. Ah, Ryal. That was fast.
He opened the door. “Oh. Kremp?”
Kremp held a data tablet in his hand. “Can I come in?”
Mog bowed his head and stepped
aside. The engineer entered, stumbled over the toppled book-shelf, and sat in a chair in the corner. He tossed the tablet on Mog’s small desk. “That’s my best guess as to what happened. I’ve added links to all the relevant research papers on distortion drive. There isn’t much though. No one’s worked on that sort of propulsion for hundreds of years, not since the discovery of the hyperspace layer.”
“Thanks,” said Mog. “I’ll read it in the morning.”
Kremp looked disappointed, but didn’t press the subject. “Ryal tells me we’re leaving for the planet of the furless ones—these humans—first thing tomorrow.”
Mog bowed his head. “I think so. I just called him down here to discuss our plans. We’ll have to get the High Council on board first.”
“I thought as much,” said Kremp. “They won’t like losing the Narma Kull. Sledgim’s defenses are weak enough as it is.”
“I’m not talking just about the Narma Kull.”
“Oh?” Kremp’s ears perked up.
“I’m talking about all of us. We’re all leaving. We’ll fill the transports to bursting and leave for Earth.”
“Abandon Sledgim?” said Kremp incredulously.
“The Ta’Krell know we’re here. We can’t fight a full-on assault.”
“But, but, you’re talking about nearly three hundred thousand people.”
“Yes,” said Mog. He’d run the numbers already. They had enough super transports to do it, thanks to the few half-empty ones that had recently arrived from the destroyed colony world of Aso. Those ships will be packed to bursting. “We’ll leave an encoded beacon in the system, broadcasting where we went so that any Maurians retreating here can set course for Earth.”
Kremp looked aghast. “We don’t even know where Earth is!”
“Drakmara and Meela are working on that. There were star charts in the computers of their fighter ships.”
“The High Council won’t like this,” said Kremp. “Sledgim has been our most closely-guarded asset.”
Mog snarled. “It’ll be obliterated when those scouts come back with reinforcements. If the council doesn’t like it, then they can go to the dark place. I’m the Supreme Fleet Commander, and this is war. They’ll do as I say. Besides, mar-Ruba ordered it himself.”
The door chimed. “That will be Ryal,” said Mog.
“Do you want me to leave?” said Kremp.
“No.” Mog stood to let his first officer in. “Stay. I want to hear your thoughts on my other plan.”
“And what is that?”
“Getting these humans invested in our cause. A token of good-faith. Perhaps a demonstration of what we have to offer. Something that we can present to them when we arrive at Earth.”
“And by that you mean what, exactly? Ship drives, reactors? Surely not weapons?”
Mog tipped an ear. “I don’t know yet. I guess I’m talking about whatever it takes.”
∆∆∆
Morgan returned from the tour of the Narma Kull in a daze. The ship was huge! The pulse rifles and the personal defense shields in the armory had most impressed Del Toro. Jack couldn’t stop talking about the automated fabrication unit, which even now was printing a squadron of Maurian fighter ships from raw materials excavated from the planet’s surface. For Morgan, it had been the gravity plating, especially as applied to all sides of the shower stall. The dirt and grime being sonically massaged and then tractor-beamed off of you made for an exciting bathing experience.
Ensign Blake’s verdict was that the Maurians were technologically equivalent to the humans, if you averaged everything out. How had she put it? They’ve got better military hardware, materials, and engines, but we’ve got repulsors, which they seem to have entirely missed somehow. As to computing technology, the Maurians hadn’t suffered an AI revolution, but they seemed wary of it all the same. Mog had hinted at sentient computers, but hadn’t told them anything concrete.
“We have a proposition for you,” said Mog, as they all filed back into the bay. Someone had pushed all the cargo to one side while they had been gone. Bed rolls and new clothing had been laid out, and warmer light fixtures installed in the ceiling. Maurian workers were installing a pump and partitions for a proper toilet.
“I’m listening,” said Del Toro.
“You’ve seen our ship. We have technology that you lack, and you have technology that we lack. Your fighter craft, for instance. Their shields are weak, and you rely on projectile weapons and feeble light emitters. You have no inertial compensation systems, so you cannot perform hard maneuvers.”
“You seem to know a lot about our fighters,” said Del Toro.
“We have been studying the three that we recovered from the battlefield. We can upgrade your fighters. Make them like ours. Better than ours even, thanks to your variable force harmonic repulsion technology. We will make those three ships the most advanced starfighters ever produced by either of our races.”
“Sounds like a good deal for us,” said Del Toro. “Why would you do this?”
“To show Earth’s government that we are serious,” said Mog. “To ensure we can form an alliance.”
“A gift?”
Mog bared his teeth, the gesture equivalent to a nod. “A gift.”
“This is acceptable,” said Del Toro. “Although I want my engineer and fighter technician to oversee the work.”
“I’ll help, if I can,” said Ann Blake timidly.
“Straight on,” said Wally. “As long as I don’t have to fly one of those things again. I’ve had just about enough of that for a lifetime, thank you very much.”
“Agreed,” said Mog. “Your people will oversee the work.”
“And we fly them,” said Del Toro. “Not you.”
“Naturally” said Mog. “We wouldn’t fit in your tiny ships. You should know that this will be dangerous. The modifications might not be compatible. Also, I ask that your pilots help defend the Narma Kull if the Ta’Krell find us before we reach Earth.”
Del Toro pointed at Jack. “Just so you know, we’ve only got one pilot left. Lieutenant, what do you think?”
Morgan felt a rush of adrenaline. Only one? No, that’s not true.
Jack grinned. “I’d love to have my ship back. This sounds like fun. I can’t say I want to fight those Ta’Krell monsters on my own, but if it helps get us to Earth then I’m your pilot.”
“Well then,” said Del Toro. “We have one volunteer. I’m afraid that’s the best we’ll be able to do until you get us home.”
Mog looked disappointed. His ears drooped as he surveyed the human survivors. “There are no other pilots among you?”
“No one qualified to fly a Firefly,” said Del Toro, answering for them. “I’ll not let anyone without the proper flight training or physical conditioning touch one of those ships.”
“Aw, come on,” said Stoddard. “I’ll do it sir. I can fly a shuttle. How different can this be?”
Jack snorted. “A lot.”
Stoddard pressed on. “I’d love a chance to strike back, for the Sagitta. Please Miguel, give me a chance.”
Del Toro shook his head. “I can’t risk that. No, you’re not flying, that’s an order.”
Morgan raised his hand. “But what about me? I can fly one, and I can fight. I’ve already done it.”
Del Toro glared at him. “You, the boy hero? Definitely not.”
Morgan caught Victor’s eye. Victor raised an eyebrow inquisitively. A flicker of hope crossed his face.
“You can’t order me not to,” said Morgan. His voice trembled, but he pressed on. “I’m not in the force. You can’t order me to do anything.” I can’t believe I’m doing this. He considered Victor for a long moment and wondered what Liz would want him to do. Ugh. He pointed at Victor, then at himself. “Commander Mog, Victor and I are racing drivers. It’s basically the same thing as pilots. We can fly those ships.”
“Yes, we can!” Victor stepped forward, a sly grin on his face. “We do this all the time.”
Mog looked from Del Toro to Morgan, and then back. “You are saying you won’t help us?”
Del Toro frowned. “No, I’m not saying that at all.”
“Then let them fly, sir.” Jason’s voice rang out loud and clear. “This is beyond the ISF. If they want to, let them fly for Earth!”
“For the alliance,” said Mog. “We must work together for the good of the galaxy. This will be the first step.”
Del Toro straightened his uniform and pressed his clenched fists against his hips.
“I can teach them, Miguel,” said Jack. “They are young and fit. I’ve flown with Morgan and I know he can take it. Victor’s flown too. They can handle the g’s. After what we’ve all been through, they’re as much seasoned war veterans as the rest of us.”
Morgan’s heart was racing. Morgan Greenfield, starfighter pilot. War-ambassador from Earth! Founder of the Alliance. Kid from Arizona. Ha!
Del Toro faced Mog. “Alright,” he said. He looked from Jack to Jason. “Considering the advice from my pilot and from my second in command, I will allow the two boys—that is, the two young men here, to train in the fighter craft. I don’t like it, but it seems we have little other choice.”
“Good. Thank you, Commander.” Mog extended his arm. Del Toro regarded it warily before grasping the alien’s hand. He shook it. Instead of letting go, Mog slid his hand up and gripped del Toro’s forearm. It was a strange sight: del Toro as Napoleon, looking up at Mog as Goliath. The commander tolerated this for a second, then withdrew his hand quickly.
“Feel free to wander the ship,” said Mog. “I need to get back to the bridge. If you need anything—”, he pointed at the com panel, now active on the wall of the cargo bay, “just call.”
Mog and his officers left the bay. As soon as the doors slid shut, Morgan’s shaking legs collapsed. He sat down hard on the bay floor. Victor came over and offered him a grudging smile.
“Alright you two,” said Del Toro. “This is not a game. You have no idea what you just signed up for, no clue of how much rests on this. So, you will listen to Lieutenant Jones and Commander Mog and do everything they tell you.” He glowered at Morgan. “Do not cross me again.”