by Britt Ringel
Ensign Gables cleared her throat and said, “That was footage taken from Private Pena’s helmet-cam. We blew the cutter off of Kite while I was walking the sample to Medical.”
Heskan grunted and turned his attention squarely on Doctor Thomas. “What did you find, Doctor,” he rumbled. “In English.”
The table view screen switched to show the chemical composition of the gel. “This substance is biological but there is a mechanical component to it. Brandon will tell you more about that but I can say that my analysis suggests the bio-gel is very dendrite-like in its nature.” Thomas looked around the room and continued, “Dendrites, Captain, are used by neurons to conduct electrochemical stimuli. Basically, I believe this gel makes it possible for the Parasites, that’s what we’ve taken to calling them, to communicate with each other.”
“You mean like how they communicate with each other once they’ve infected a host?” Heskan asked.
“Yes. For practical purposes you could say that, although that’s not entirely accurate. This gel can’t transfer energy to a parasite; it can’t remove waste formed by other organs of the parasite. It’s not a permanent environment for this species.” Thomas stopped himself as he considered his statement. “Not that a host is a permanent environment either. These Parasites can burn through a host in a matter of months or years depending on stress and activity level. It’s really quite fascinating. The specimens we recovered in Kite’s kitchen have yielded an abundance of information. You know these creatures can regulate a human body more efficiently than we can?”
“I hope you aren’t suggesting these Parasites are symbiotic, Doctor,” Heskan said.
Thomas shook his head as he answered, “No, no. The relationship between parasite and host is very one-sided. Autopsies are demonstrating that some of Kite’s hosts have had tendons ripped from the bone because the parasites over-worked their human adrenal glands. Poor Spaceman Janic actually ripped several fingers from her hands trying—”
Heskan held his hand out, cutting him off. “Doctor, stay focused. You said the gel was also mechanical as well?”
“Electro-mechanical,” Lieutenant Jackamore stated. “This gel serves a function similar to the holographic integrated circuit only it’s even more versatile than our HICs. Its behavior depends on how a current is introduced into the gel.”
“English, dammit,” Heskan barked. “What does that mean, Brandon?”
“It means that not only does this gel act as a means to let the Parasites communicate with each other, but it’s probably also used to control their ships. In fact, I’d bet this gel circulates through the entire cutter and connects with other vats deeper inside their ships.”
Heskan looked toward Thomas. “Then if they’re all connected while piloting their cutters, why do they just sail dumbly at us without regard for tactics? We’ve seen infected execute some pretty damn clever ambushes.”
Thomas shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Captain, you have to understand. This is the type of research that requires a team of specialists working in a bio-research lab. It’s just me and three other doctors on Kite and we’re on a warship. We’re not even xenobiologists.”
Heskan pounded his fist on the table and snapped angrily, “I don’t care, Ivan! I need answers. You need to get them for me. What about their toxin? We have to find a way to stop it. How is that going?”
“We’re not toxicologists either,” Thomas grumbled sedately as he typed commands into his datapad. “We’ve had very little progress, Captain. With our only living subject moved off Kite, I focused on the bio-gel.”
Heskan rubbed the side of his face, a touch of phantom pain the only reminder of the parasites once lodged there. “And that work has given us nothing,” Heskan complained. “Look, I want all research efforts working toward practical applications in defeating these things. I don’t care about their mating habits or evolutionary origins unless it leads directly to a way that lets us neutralize their toxin or, even better, prevents them from attaching to us in the first place.” The volume of his voice began to rise again. “We’re running out of encounters, people.” He looked fiercely at each individual in the room. “Kite is dying and the next attack might be the last for us. I don’t need to remind you that as soon as the Hollarans sense we’re not pulling our weight…” He shook his head in futility and finally grumbled, “Dismissed.”
Heskan remained seated as the other attendees exited eagerly. Chief Brown, the last to leave, stopped at the door. Without turning, he said, “Capt’n, we’re goin’ to get through this.”
“How can you be so sure, Chief?”
“Because I know you won’t let us fail. Ever since I’ve served with you, you’ve always done whatever’s needed. No matter the odds, no matter how gritty or ugly, you’ve always pushed us ‘til we’ve won.”
Heskan remained quiet but Brown turned to face him and patiently stood in the doorway. Finally, Heskan confessed, “We’re spread too thin. I’m not sure how much Kite has left. Curator might be holding her own, but you know as well as I do that Captain Arnold barely tolerates this truce. And the Hollarans… how can I trust them?”
Brown leaned against the doorway. “Back in Nine Seventy-Eight, my construction section became one of the first experimental operations sections in the Navy. In their infinite wisdom, BPC combined the old Administration an’ Construction duties into the new Operations. Man, I hated that switch. Those Admin guys were lazy, unmotivated… weak. Everyone in Construction knew Admin was worthless, an’ now they were gonna be part of us. I was a brand new petty third class but even I knew it would end in disaster.”
Brown pressed off the doorway and stepped back into the briefing room. “Well, push came to shove in my section an’ most of us junior petty officers just plain revolted. We told our senior chief that we weren’t gonna work with those Admin pukes. The chief petty officer over our subsection even threatened to resign. He said there just wasn’t any point in pushin’ forward with this mad experiment.”
Heskan, still seated, looked up at Brown. “So what happened, Chief?”
“The senior chief canned the CPO in front of everyone. He literally fired him on the spot. Told him his terminal leave was pre-approved an’ he should go directly to his quarters, change into civvies an’ leave the base. Then he looks at all us young POs an’ tells half of us to empty out our quarters because half of the Admin guys are coming to live with us an’ the other half of us are goin’ to live with them. We spent double shifts fer a year married to ‘em. Workin’ with ‘em, trainin’ with ‘em, eatin’ with ‘em, sleepin’ next to ‘em. That whole time, the senior chief preached unity.” Brown shrugged. “Funny thing is, we learned those Admin guys weren’t so lazy after all an’ they sure as hell weren’t unmotivated. By year’s end, our new operations section was doing the work it woulda taken three old construction sections to do. When it came time to stand down the experiment, the entire operations section refused. We were a team an’ the last thing we wanted was to lose our friends.”
“Did they let you stay together?” Heskan asked.
“No,” Brown said as he shook his head. “We were divided back into our old sections but Operations as a section was implemented a year later throughout the Navy.” The chief smiled wistfully. “Probably never woulda worked without that senior chief’s vision. He never had any doubts about it; he always believed an’ he just kept kickin’ our asses until we started to believe it ourselves.”
“Sounds like a good man,” Heskan said.
Brown nodded and began to head out of the briefing room. “He was a leader, that’s fer sure,” he said, reaching the door. Brown paused again at the threshold before adding, “Weird, ain’t it? Like a flock of geese, everyone is content to fly in the same direction. Then one goose heads a different way an’ just flies like it knows this is the way they all need to go. Sure enough, one by one, the other geese fall in behind him. An’ all it took was just that one who believed enough fer the whole flock.”
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* * *
“Tunnel dive in thirty seconds,” Ensign Meyer announced from her navigation station.
Kite’s sensors had located the tunnel’s exit three hours ago, making the total time in t-space between Perdita and Iocaste one hundred forty-eight hours. Heskan glanced down at his system’s status display, ensuring that every section had readied up for battle stations. He quickly adjusted his shockseat’s braces and prepared himself for the nausea of transitioning to normal space. Kite’s dive alarm rang and the wave of disorientation swept over him.
When he could reopen his eyes, he quickly scanned the tactical plot on Kite’s main wall screen. Federation astronomers had calculated the system’s star as a K4III long ago. Supplementing that old information, the system’s sole planet appeared on the plot. The planet was a gas giant but orbited the star at approximately 0.39 astronomical units.
“We’ve completed our dive, Captain,” Meyer stated.
“We’re in the Iocaste system,” Truesworth reported. “Obviously no buoys at the tunnel point. All other ships have completed their dives.”
Heskan searched the plot for additional tactical symbols and was unsurprised when he saw none. At best, we can see only about twenty light-minutes around us. Of course, with the tunnel disturbance we just created, anyone in the system will notice our entrance.
“It’s an epistellar jovian,” Truesworth said, pointing toward the planet on the tactical plot. “It probably kicked out any other planets orbiting the star as it migrated in-system.” Truesworth scanned his panel instruments. “Jessie, have you found any tunnel points, yet?”
“Hold on,” she said. After a few more moments, she declared proudly, “There. Got one, bearing zero-two-zero, same plane, one hundred twelve light-minutes out.” A couple inputs into her panel added the tunnel point to the tactical plot.
“Is that the only one?” Heskan asked.
“It appears so, Captain,” Meyer answered. “I’ll complete another search.”
Moments after Meyer began her second investigation, Truesworth announced, “Sir, Phoenix is altering course for the tunnel point.”
Heskan opened a comm channel to Curator but hesitated. Say it like you believe it, Garrett. “Lieutenant Arnold, set your course for the next tunnel point. Stay in formation, Phoenix is the flagship.” He closed the channel. “Jessie, follow our flagship.”
He heard the ensign acknowledge the command even as he saw the strange look Vernay gave him. Unfazed, Heskan turned, looked her dead in the eyes and stated resolutely, “That’s what Phoenix is, Lieutenant. Captain Grey’s alliance is now my alliance and it’s going to work.”
Vernay nodded dubiously but Heskan ignored her as his console flashed at him. He accepted the comm request from Curator. “Yes, Alan?”
The ship captain’s arms were folded across his chest. “Commander Heskan, I must protest. How long are we going to continue this charade?” he asked.
“What charade, Alan?” Heskan asked innocently.
Arnold rolled his eyes in annoyance. “This delusion that the Hollarans are part of this CortRon, of course. Sir, the alien threat has passed and this collaboration with the ene—”
“Enough!” Heskan barked. After he was sure he had Arnold’s silence, Heskan continued in a calmer tone. “I’m sorry if you are under the misguided notion that this is up for debate. We have no idea what’s ahead of us and we’re going to need every ship we have in the squadron. The Hollarans are a part of this squadron and Phoenix is the flagship. The sooner you deal with that, the more useful you’ll be to the team. I’ve been far too lenient with blatant insubordination. You’ll either act like a Brevic officer and follow orders or you’ll be replaced.” Heaven help me but I sound like Shane Durmont.
Arnold’s expression twisted in distaste. “Commander, you’re asking us to put our lives into the hands of Hollarans! You know we can’t trust them.”
“I do trust them, Alan,” Heskan insisted. “It’s you that I’m concerned about right now.” Heskan shook his head in aggravation. “We need to get this out in the open. Alan, set up a squadron-wide meeting with the ship captains in five minutes.” Heskan cut the channel.
“Captain,” Vernay asked, “how do you know you can trust Lombardi?”
“Because you said I could.”
* * *
The briefing room’s wall screen filled with seven panels. Heskan, Lombardi and their first officers occupied the first four with Arnold, Christova and Vitale filling out the group. The Hollarans, once again, joined in concert instead of filing in randomly. As soon as they connected, Heskan began. “Thank you for attending.” He nodded toward the images of each of the captains in turn. “We need to discuss what our future plans are, but first I want to make my thoughts clear with regards to this coalition.”
Heskan could see Lombardi stiffen at his words. She’s preparing for the worst, no doubt. “We may now be sailing in one formation but we are not yet unified. That changes right now.” He gestured to all of the panels on his wall screen as he said, “We are one squadron with one purpose: returning to Terran space.”
“But to which government’s territory, Captain?” Arnold asked.
“It doesn’t matter, Alan!” Heskan said adamantly. “Right now, Bree, Hollara… both are home.” He looked around the screen and saw skeptical faces. “Believe it. Each of you.”
Christova pointed a finger accusingly at Heskan and said belligerently, “What makes you ‘Vics think you have power over us? Who are you to say such things?”
Heskan’s own voice raised a level to match the Hollaran komandor’s intensity. “We’re the guys with the escort ships that are keeping those cutters from ramming you, Stephan. How many cutters can your missile cruiser intercept alone?”
Christova’s face turned a furious red but he fumed in silence.
Heskan stole a glance at Lombardi’s panel. She looks shocked but not angry. Maybe she sees what I’m trying to accomplish. “And we need you, Stephan. Who knows what we will encounter in the next system. We need your Issic batteries and I have an idea about how we can use your fusion missiles too.”
“Heavy cruisers and smaller do not normally carry fusion missiles,” Lombardi stated. She shrugged apologetically. “It is a waste of magazine space since we do not use them.”
Arnold rolled his eyes and asked sarcastically, “So Euanthe and Kore were just exceptions then?”
“Euanthe and Kore are just fine,” Lombardi replied. “We have not even landed troops on the planets. We are simply maintaining space dominance in those systems, nothing more.”
I’m starting to believe much of what I’m hearing, Heskan thought. I’m starting to question lots of things I’ve been told.
During the brief silence, Christova sighed and then asked in a neutral tone, “Even if I believe you, Commander, I doubt your government will abide by our truce and simply allow us to return to Hollaran space.”
“Or Hollara let us go back to our space,” Arnold added.
Fair points, Heskan conceded. “Look, I won’t lie to either of you. I can’t make promises about what our governments might do.” He looked squarely at Lombardi, willed her to see the honesty in his eyes. “But I promise you, Isabella. I will do everything in my power to return you and your people back to Hollaran space. I swear this.”
Heskan felt pressure around his left wrist from Vernay’s hand, while, on the wall screen, Lombardi gave Heskan a thoughtful expression. “You’re my comrade-in-arms, Komandor. My ships will die protecting our allies,” Heskan avowed.
“La buona moglie fa il buon marito,” Lombardi mumbled. She smiled slightly and then responded, “Okay, I believe you. I am in.”
Heskan nodded once triumphantly. “The first order of business is a singular chain of command,” Heskan said.
Christova jolted upright. “Ah-ha! Now I see clearly. What makes you think you can command Hollaran forces?” he grilled.
Heskan shook his head and continued talking ov
er Christova. “Since Phoenix is the flagship of this hybrid squadron and Komandor Lombardi has seniority by date of rank, it is only appropriate she be the squadron commander.”
Christova rocked back in mute shock while Arnold’s jaw dropped open. Even Lombardi was stricken. The looks alone were worth it, Heskan thought as he smiled to himself.
Lombardi spent several moments looking down at her conference table. Finally she said, “That is a great burden, Commander. To have Brevic lives placed upon my shoulders…” She swallowed. “Very well. Commander Heskan, you are the vice commander.”
“Komandor!” Christova screamed.
“Silenzio, Stephan,” Lombardi hissed.
“But this is completely improper,” he persisted. “I refuse to be replaced so easily and when Spinward Command is informed—”
“They will do nothing, Stephan,” Lombardi declared boldly. “So, you go ahead and file your protests and reports about what you think is improper. Continue to fantasize about your military machinations and keep threatening me with your political connections, Komandor.” Lombardi’s voice lowered menacingly. “And when we return to Hollaran space, I dare you to try to burn my familial name to the ground. Let us see who is still standing, Stephan. Roll those dice.” Christova’s face paled even as Lombardi piled on. “But for now, Komandor, you will act like a Hollaran officer and follow the legal commands of those appointed over you or I will tear you apart. Understood?”
Christova shrugged languidly but did not respond.
“I did not hear you, Komandor. Decide now. Are you prepared to follow the orders of the officers appointed over you? All officers?” she pressed.
“Yes… ma’am,” Christova responded.
Lombardi looked to the silent captain of Nuno. “Kapitan Vitale, will you follow your oath? Will you accept orders from your chain of command?”
The ship captain nodded slightly and said, “I will, Komandor.”