by Ryk Brown
“I did not.”
“General…”
“Timing is everything, Lieutenant.”
* * *
“All I’m saying is that you should not have used so many missiles in the attack,” Cameron insisted, “not while we are unable to adequately defend ourselves.”
“The Dusahn have to know that we will strike back, and with force,” Nathan replied. “Otherwise, they will keep attacking until they destroy us.”
“They’ll keep attacking us anyway,” Cameron argued, “regardless of whether or not we strike back.”
“You’d prefer we don’t retaliate,” Nathan questioned, “just to save a few jump missiles?”
“What if they attack Rakuen or Neramese next?” Cameron challenged.
“Then we’ll defend them in the same way, and we’ll retaliate for any attack on any Alliance ships or member worlds. That’s what an alliance is about.”
“You have to think long term, Nathan. You could have simply targeted a few ships, using a fraction of the missiles, and achieved the same effect.”
“If we retaliate with limited force, the Dusahn will realize our resources are minimal, and they will come at us with everything they’ve got. Or, have you forgotten how this ship was so badly damaged, to begin with?” Nathan told her. “That is exactly why we have imposed such severe restrictions on incoming and outgoing traffic in this system, to prevent the Dusahn from gaining any intelligence on our capabilities. If we strike with far less force than they did, they will surmise why.”
“If they continue these attacks with any regularity, our missile production will not be able to match our need.”
“Then we will build more plants,” Nathan replied.
“You’re assuming the Rakuen and Neramesean economies can support so many plants,” Cameron pointed out.
“They’ll have to if they want to survive.”
“And what about once the Aurora has been repaired?” Cameron challenged. “How will we be able to leave this system and take the attack to the Dusahn, ourselves, if Rakuen and Neramese do not have enough missiles to defend themselves?”
Nathan leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to calm himself. He knew his executive officer was just playing devil’s advocate to ensure he was considering all possible angles, but it was no less irritating. “Attacking with less force and conserving our jump missiles guarantees a negative; whereas, not doing so only risks one. If the Dusahn attack with enough force and regularity to warrant the conservation of our jump missiles, then I will consider doing so.”
“Nathan…”
He held up his hand, indicating that he wasn’t finished. “However, I am willing to listen to reasonable compromises, to be considered if warranted. Work up a baseline estimate of the number of jump missiles we must always have in inventory to defend against an attack no bigger than the last one, and I’ll try to make sure we don’t go below that number.”
“And if they attack with more force than last time?” Cameron wondered.
“Then I will consider increasing that number.”
Cameron held her tongue a moment. “It’s a hell of a risk, Nathan.”
“It’s a war, Cameron. Risk is unavoidable.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Lieutenant Rezhik entered the dining area of their suite on Sanctuary, taking a seat a few chairs down from Marcus. “Nelyana tells me you wish to speak with me.”
“Not a matter of want, really,” Marcus said. “No offense.”
“What can I do for you, Mister Taggert?” the Ghatazhak lieutenant asked.
“I met a guy at the tech markets a few days ago. Had lunch with him…twice, actually. By the second meeting, he seemed to know quite a bit about me.”
“Like what?”
“Like that I was here with Neli and the kids, and that I had eight security guards.”
“Easily deduced with observation,” the lieutenant concluded.
“He also knew that I worked for Nathan.”
“Indeed.”
“Well, he suspected, actually,” Marcus admitted. “I convinced him that I worked for Connor Tuplo, captain of the Seiiki,” he added, proud of his clever deception. “I told him we had run a few key missions for the Karuzari, but that was all.”
“That was good thinking on your part,” the lieutenant congratulated.
“I told him it was Connor’s sister who was getting treatment, and that I was watching his sister’s kids.”
“Did he know we are Ghatazhak?”
“He thought you were mercs, so I let him keep on believing that.”
“Who is this man?”
“Gunwant Vout,” Marcus replied. “Goes by the nickname ‘Gunwy’. Says he works for some big corporation called SilTek. Claims he is stationed here to scout the tech markets for potential technologies to develop and bring to their own markets.”
“Do you believe him?”
“For the most part,” Marcus replied, “but I thought I should tell you, in case you wanted to check him out for yourself.”
“Indeed I would,” the lieutenant stated. “How long has he been stationed here?”
“Not long. He said SilTek gained clearance to come here by upgrading Sanctuary’s targeting systems for free. That’s pretty much why I agreed to meet with him a second time. I thought this SilTek company might have some tech we could use against the Dusahn.”
“Are you scheduled to meet with this man again?”
“Not at the moment,” Marcus replied.
“Good,” the lieutenant said. “Give me a few days to look into the matter. I am especially curious as to how he learned so much about us, particularly our connection to the Karuzari.”
“The only people outside of our group who know are Doctor Symyri and a few of his staff, and the head of station security, right?”
“That is what I was led to believe,” Lieutenant Rezhik confirmed, “and that is where I intend to start.”
* * *
Kellen Lee nervously paced the length of the small, portable control shack, anxiously awaiting word from the lead installation tech. Today was the day they were to complete the installation of Rakuen’s first surface-based jump missile launcher, but it was so much more. By the time the project was complete, he would have installed over one hundred launchers all over his world.
The pressure to stay on schedule, if not ahead of it, was great. Although Neramese’s first missile launcher would be operational a mere two days later, it was important for Rakuen’s national pride that they always stay one step ahead of Neramese in their ability to defend themselves against all aggressors, be they from outside the Rogen system or from within.
Since day one, the first installation had been plagued with problems. Due to their strategic significance, it was decided that the sites needed to be a safe distance from any inhabited areas. With Rakuen’s general lack of landmass, that meant floating launch platforms. To make matters even more complicated, although tethered to the planet’s relatively shallow ocean floor, the platforms needed the ability to be relocated from time to time. This added additional complexity to an already high-pressure, highly-public project.
“Shack, Launcher,” Kellen’s portable comm-unit squawked.
“Please, tell me something good,” Kellen replied.
“I think we solved the problem.”
“You think? I need better than that, Cori. I can’t have that thing blowing up with everyone on Rakuen watching.”
“We fixed it, Kell,” Cori assured him. “You can start the test.”
“Tenna,” Kellen called to his launch controller, “how does it look?”
“Everything’s green, Kellen.”
Kellen took a deep breath, then pressed a button on his comm-unit. “Command, Site One, online.”
“Copy that, Site One. Go
active.”
“You heard him,” Kellen told his launch controller.
“Going active,” the controller replied. “All hands, clear the launcher,” the controller called over the loudspeakers outside.
“Captain, Rakuen Defense Command reports Site One is active and ready for the test,” Naralena reported from the Aurora’s comms station.
“Very well,” Nathan responded from his command chair at the center of the bridge. “Relay the launch signal to the drone.”
“Aye, sir,” Naralena acknowledged. “Launching comm-drone.”
“Comm-drone is away,” Kaylah confirmed from the sensor station. “Comm-drone has jumped.”
“Cross your fingers, everyone,” Nathan said, his eyes glued to the tactical display on the main view screen.
On the outer edge of the Rogen system, an odd-looking ship waited patiently. The old, interplanetary, light, cargo freighter had been decommissioned long ago but had been pressed back into service, fitted with a single-use jump drive, and had her flight systems upgraded to be fully automated. All to perform one last mission.
A small flash of blue-white light appeared nearby, and a few seconds later, the converted ship fired up its engines, turned back toward Rakuen, and accelerated. A minute later, it disappeared behind its own flash of light.
“Flash traffic!” the launch controller at the missile launcher site announced. “We have a launch order!”
“Confirm the launch order,” Kellen replied, according to procedure.
“Launch order confirmed,” the Rakuen missile officer acknowledged, turning his launch key to the launch enabled position.
“Launch order confirmed,” the Neramesean missile officer agreed as he also turned his key.
“Good launch orders,” the controller announced. “We have target lock,” he added as he flipped the launch button cover open and pressed the button beneath it down firmly.
Outside, at the launch pad twenty meters away, one of the four missiles ignited its engine and leapt off its guide rail a second later. Two seconds after that, it disappeared behind a blue-white flash of light.
“Good launch,” the controller inside the control shack announced. “Missile has jumped.”
“New contact!” Kaylah reported from the Aurora’s sensor station. “Rakuen jump missile. Four seconds to impact.”
Nathan watched the tactical display on the main view screen as the icon representing the newly-arrived Rakuen jump missile quickly converged on the icon representing the target drone, which had jumped in ten seconds earlier. Precisely four seconds later, the two icons converged and then disappeared.
“Clean intercept,” Jessica reported from the tactical station.
“Target drone has been destroyed,” Kaylah confirmed.
“Total time?” Nathan inquired.
“Twenty-two seconds from the time the target arrived, to time of intercept,” Kaylah replied.
“Plenty of time for a Dusahn battleship to launch enough ordnance to lay waste to an entire city,” Jessica commented.
“If they don’t agree to automate the people out of the launch confirmation, the entire system is going to be useless,” Nathan complained as he rose from his command chair.
“Maybe they’ll get faster with practice,” Kaylah commented.
“Not eighteen seconds faster,” Josh remarked.
“Get me the Rakuen and Neramesean ministers on vid-comm, and pipe it into my ready room,” Nathan instructed as he passed by the comms station.
“Aye, sir,” Naralena replied.
“You have the conn, Cam.”
“I have the conn,” Cameron replied.
Jessica paused a moment, waiting for Nathan to disappear into his ready room. “Someone’s about to get a reality slap.”
* * *
“I have Defense Minister Toyon and Defense Minister Koro on vid-link for you, sir,” Naralena reported over the intercom.
“Put them on my screen,” Nathan instructed. A moment later, both men appeared on the main view screen, on the ready room wall over the couch, each minister occupying half of the screen. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Congratulations on a successful test, Minister Toyon.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
The Neramesean defense minister did not look as pleased.
“I look forward to a successful test of your first launcher in two days, Minister Koro,” Minister Toyon added.
“Despite the successful launch and intercept, there is still the problem of the time to intercept,” Nathan added. “As predicted, requiring confirmation of a launch order by both a Rakuen and a Neramesean officer, at the launcher, creates a delay that could cost millions of lives during an actual attack.”
“Our analysis of the launch site control shack video shows only a five-second delay,” Minister Toyon insisted. “We find that an acceptable number, considering the magnitude of protection that the confirmation process provides both worlds.”
“It takes a Dusahn battleship less than three seconds to release a single OSCM,” Nathan replied.
“I am unfamiliar with this term,” Minister Koro admitted.
“Orbit-to-surface cluster missile,” Nathan explained. “A powered, self-guided, fire-and-forget weapon that, once through the atmospheric interface, breaks apart into anywhere from twenty to fifty smaller missiles, each with their own separate target. It takes three seconds to release that weapon from one of the battleship’s four surface weapons bays. That means during the four seconds your officers waste, confirming that neither one of you are shooting at each other, enough ordnance to take out a million of your people is being launched. Add to that the five seconds it takes for your missiles to clear the launch rails and jump, and the three seconds it takes for the missile to acquire the target after coming out of the jump, adjust its course as needed, and transit the last few kilometers to the intercept point, and you’ve got enough time for that battleship to ensure the death of millions, and still jump away unscathed. In short, gentlemen, your fear of one another will make your defense systems useless.”
“Captain,” Minister Toyon interrupted, “we have had this discussion before, and the result is always the same. The confirmation process, although time-consuming, is necessary, at least for the time being.”
“The day will soon come that the Aurora must leave the Rogen system, in order to take the fight to the Dusahn, instead of waiting for them to come to us,” Nathan explained. “If they attack while we are away, and you are still using humans in the confirmation loop, both your worlds will be destroyed.”
“You promised to defend us,” Minister Koro reminded Nathan.
“Yes, I did, but you make this impossible by continuing to embrace the hatred and mistrust of generations long past.”
“Our people demand such precautions,” Minister Toyon exclaimed.
“Your people couldn’t care less about the decades-old war between your two worlds!” Nathan argued. “They have seen the destruction the Dusahn can bring, and they stand united. It is only their political leaders who seek to keep this mistrust alive, most likely for their own personal power. Now, the two of you occupy appointed positions; therefore, you must answer to the elected officials who appointed you. So, I will give you a message to deliver to your respective leaders. Remove the humans, and automate the jump-missile defense system, or we will consider both your worlds to be in violation of the charter, and the Karuzari will withdraw from this alliance, leaving you both defenseless. Then you will be free to target one another with your missiles and resume your war. Either way, your worlds will come to an end, and I will not be party to it.”
Nathan abruptly ended the call, turning off the view screen. “Comms, Captain. If either minister calls back, ignore their hails until further notice.”
“Aye, sir.”
A moment later, Cameron entered th
e ready room. “I take it the call didn’t go well?”
“Actually, it went exactly as expected,” Nathan replied, his frustration obvious.
“What did you say to them?”
“I threatened to withdraw from the charter and leave them defenseless if they didn’t automate the entire defense process.”
Cameron’s eyebrows shot up. “Can you do that? Legally, I mean.”
“Hell, yes. Article four, section two, subsection eleven.”
“You know, you could just take control over all the launchers,” Cameron reminded him. “That capability was built-in, and that option was also written into the charter.”
“I know,” Nathan assured her. “But they need to face up to their own prejudices and hatred. They need to overcome it, and learn to work together.”
“At gunpoint, though?” Cameron wondered.
“Sometimes, that’s the only way,” Nathan replied.
* * *
Vladimir watched the displays in the power generation control center. He could remember back, years ago, when he was a fresh ensign newly assigned to the Aurora. He had been stationed in this very department, tasked with the monitoring of the ship’s four antimatter reactors. He had been quite proud of that tasking, since it was uncommon for an ensign to be given that much responsibility. Antimatter reactors had always been a finicky, dangerous method of generating energy. Unfortunately, at the time, it had been the only way to generate enough energy to operate a faster-than-light vessel. That is, until the Aurora had accidentally found its way to the Pentaurus cluster and discovered zero-point energy devices.
At the time, the Takarans had only just introduced the technology, managing to scale it up in order to power their capital ships. Since then, it had been considerably refined, and the old gravitational side effects the ZPEDs caused for the jump drive had long since been overcome.
In fact, the Aurora had been slated to have her antimatter reactors replaced with zero-point energy reactors at her next major overhaul. Had that overhaul not been interrupted by the Dusahn’s false-flag attack on the Sol Alliance, and their subsequent decision to defect from the Sol Alliance and join Nathan and the Karuzari in their fight against the Dusahn, they would still be in the midst of that overhaul. So, in a way, their change of plans had led to their shift to zero-point energy a few weeks sooner than expected.