by Ryk Brown
“Affirmative, Commander. Your solution poses a risk level of point zero one three percent. Unless an emitter receives a direct hit, or the ship experiences a collision, the lateral bracing is unnecessary. In fact, you could safely skip the installation of lateral bracing on all emitters and save approximately thirty hours of labor.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Vladimir wondered.
“You did not ask.”
“Gospadee,” Vladimir exclaimed. “I am asking now. Aurora, please identify any shortcuts we could take to get the long-range jump system operational ahead of the captain’s deadline.”
“I will analyze and report back momentarily,” Aurora answered.
“Thank you,” Vladimir tapped his comm-set again. “I’m sure,” he told his engineer. “In fact, skip the installation of all lateral emitter braces.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Commander?”
“Yes, Aurora,” Vladimir replied.
“I have identified no other shortcuts that would speed up the installation of the long-range jump system without resulting in an unacceptable risk of failure. However, I think I should point out that the zero-point energy device you are currently installing is approximately two point four kilograms heavier than the one you previously installed. I would recommend additional vibration couplings on the lower supports.”
“Thank you, Aurora,” the commander replied. “Computers,” he mumbled to himself. “Dortson! Shelky!” Vladimir yelled to the men working seven meters below him. “I want an extra vibration coupling on every one of those lower supports! Understood?”
“Why?”
“Because I said so, Ensign!” Vladimir barked.
“Yes, sir!”
* * *
Nathan sat patiently in the interrogation room, in the makeshift prison on Neramese. The past two days had been a flurry of activity, both on board the Aurora and across the Rogen system. Nathan had pushed his engineers and repair crews to the brink, and had asked equally as much of the Neramesean Prime Minister. Now, he would be asking much of another man.
The door opened, and two Neramesean guards stepped inside, followed by Commander Andreola, the Orswellan officer who had been so earnest during his initial interrogation.
The commander walked toward the table, looking at the captain as he stood. “Captain,” he greeted, nodding respectfully. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“The restraints will not be necessary,” Nathan instructed the guards.
“Removing them is against operational policy,” the senior guard stated.
“It’s quite alright, Captain,” Commander Andreola insisted. “The restraints are not uncomfortable, and the policy is logical.”
“As you wish,” Nathan agreed. “You may leave,” Nathan told the guards.
“That is also against operational policy.”
“No one on this base has sufficient security clearance to hear the questions I am about to ask this man,” Nathan explained. “If you remain, I will have to place you in isolation until such time as the topics discussed in this room, over the next few minutes, are no longer sensitive information…which could be indefinitely. The choice is yours.”
The senior guard looked at the captain, then at the other guard. “Secure the prisoner to the table.” The other guard did as instructed, directing the commander to his seat and then attaching his restraints to the table before him.
“We will be outside, should you need us,” the senior guard informed Nathan before leaving.
“The room is monitored from outside,” the commander warned.
“My security detail has seen to that,” Nathan assured him. “I trust they are treating you well.”
“As well as can be expected,” the commander replied. “It is difficult for the guards. This facility is not properly designed to house enemy prisoners of war; hence, the need for restraints whenever a prisoner is being moved between zones. The fact that I am not terribly liked by the majority of the prisoners here causes additional burdens for the guards, which they tend to resent.”
“I apologize for the conditions,” Nathan said.
“On the bright side, the food is not bad,” the commander replied, smiling.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“How can I help you, Captain?”
“You told Lieutenant Siddens that the Dusahn were forcing your people to build ships for them. You also stated that you did not know exactly what types of ships were being assembled at the moment, but that you were fairly certain at least two of them were battleships.”
“Based on the size of the hulls, the last time I was in the Orswellan system, yes.”
“And the rest of the bays?” Nathan wondered. “You have no idea what was being assembled in them?”
“As I said, twelve of the bays are kept open to provide service for existing ships. Of the remaining twenty-six bays, the majority of them have historically been used to create gunships or to convert Orswellan ships for use by the Dusahn, mostly as troop landers and mass bombers.”
“Assuming that those two large ships you saw are battleships, how long until they are completed?”
“As I told Lieutenant Siddens, I have no way of knowing. However, it generally takes about a year for the Dusahn to complete a large ship, something the size of a heavy cruiser or battleship. The last battleship took nearly a year and a half, but that was one of their heavy battleships, which is a bit larger and more heavily armed.”
“And it has been at least half a year since you saw those ships?” Nathan verified.
“Yes. Again, as I informed Lieutenant Siddens, at the time that I observed those ships, their hulls were still under construction, so I expect they were a little less than half-complete; a little more, if they were not heavy battleships.”
“Then, those two ships could be ready for service,” Nathan surmised.
“Yes,” the commander replied. “That is the conclusion Lieutenant Siddens came to, as well.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Perhaps I am not understanding something,” the commander said. “Is there a reason you are asking me questions that Lieutenant Siddens has already asked…multiple times, I might add?”
“I am considering an attack on the Orswellan system,” Nathan admitted.
“I see.” The commander thought for a moment, obviously concerned with the prospect. “The Orswellans are not your enemy, Captain, at least not by choice.”
“I understand that,” Nathan assured him. “However, your people are building ships for the Dusahn, and that is something I cannot allow to continue.”
“Understandable,” the commander said.
“The last time we spoke, you said if the Orswellan ships turned against the Jar-Razza, the troops on the surface would turn against the Orswellans, possibly committing genocide,” Nathan began. “Assuming we are able to destroy the Jar-Razza, and at least disable the other four Orswellan ships, what would the Dusahn troops on the surface do?”
“That is hard to say,” the commander admitted. “If our ships were allowed to survive, then the Dusahn commanders on the surface might feel threatened. Even worse, they might suspect collusion, in which case they would most certainly turn against the population.”
“But surely the Dusahn lack the manpower to control an entire population using troops on the ground?”
“Our entire civilization is unarmed,” Commander Andreola told Nathan. “It always has been. Our constabulary was armed, but they were disbanded by the Dusahn only days after the invasion. The population has no way of defending itself.” After a pause, the commander added, “Your only choice is to destroy the Orswellan ships, and to do so as if they were Dusahn. That is the only hope my people have of avoiding genocide.”
Nathan leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath. “
How many people aboard an Orswellan ship?”
“The ones currently in our home system? An average of seventy, I believe.”
“So, I have to kill two hundred and eighty, in order to save…”
“Four million,” the commander finished for him. “Mathematically, an easy decision.”
Nathan looked at the commander. “The word is obvious, not easy.”
* * *
“Got a minute?” Commander Verbeek asked from the doorway.
“Sure, Verbee,” Commander Prechitt replied. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering how the pilot training is going?”
“Faster than I would have thought,” Commander Prechitt admitted. “None of these guys are even close to being true fighter jocks, but as long as all they have to defend against are a bunch of poorly-equipped pirates, they should be able to hold their own someday.”
Commander Verbeek walked into the room, closing the door behind him. “Any idea when someday might be?”
“A few weeks, a month maybe. Why?” Commander Prechitt wondered. “Your people getting homesick?”
Commander Verbeek handed his data pad to Commander Prechitt. “It’s not me asking.”
Commander Prechitt studied the data pad for a moment. “A surface attack?”
“Apparently,” Commander Verbeek replied. “Against troops and possibly some shuttles.”
“They want you to fly cover?”
“I’m assuming so,” Commander Verbeek replied. “Eagles aren’t much good for ground attacks. I expect he’d use the Reapers.”
“Makes sense,” Commander Prechitt agreed.
“So, can the Casbons defend themselves?”
“The ones with the AIs might be able to, assuming the Ahka don’t attack in numbers greater than they have, thus far.”
“They don’t have numbers,” Commander Verbeek reminded him. “Our last recon shows they still only have four raiders and no more in the works…that we can detect.”
Commander Prechitt took a deep breath, thinking for a moment. “It will take the Inman and the Gervais three days to get your Eagles back to the Aurora. Add two or three days for the mission cycle, itself, and that’s nine to ten days that Casbon’s defenses are minimal, at best, and that’s assuming your Eagles come back.”
“Oh, we’ll come back,” Commander Verbeek insisted.
“I wasn’t talking about surviving the mission, Verbee,” Commander Prechitt told him. “Scott may decide to keep you there, or there may be additional missions in the works. There’s not enough in the message to tell.”
“Good point,” Commander Verbeek agreed.
“It only takes eighteen hours for a Nighthawk to reach the Rogen system.”
“You want to send Nighthawks instead of my Eagles?” Commander Verbeek questioned. “You said they wouldn’t be ready for at least a few weeks.”
“I wasn’t thinking about sending the Casbon pilots in those Nighthawks.”
“You want to send my pilots?”
“Not all of them,” Commander Prechitt assured him. “Maybe half. If the Ahka only have four operational raiders, your pilots could handle them with a pair of Eagles.”
“True, but…”
“Using Nighthawks, your pilots would be back in four to five days at the most, and the Nighthawks are superior to our Eagles.”
“In the right hands, yes,” Commander Verbeek agreed, “but the message wasn’t asking for recommendations,” the commander pointed out. “It was asking for readiness.”
“It included the reason for the request, which in my mind invites recommendations.”
* * *
Loki sat in the hospital pediatric ward, staring at his baby girl as she slept. A million things ran through his head, at times making him feel as if he might throw up. For the third time in less than a year, his world had been turned upside down. Only, this time, it had been partially gutted, as well. Loki’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind him.
“I’m sorry,” Nora Montrose said from the doorway. “I didn’t realize you were here,” she added, turning to depart.
“That’s alright,” Loki replied in hushed tones.
“I was visiting my mother, and I just wanted to check on Ailsa,” Nora explained, keeping her voice down as she entered the room.
“How is she?” Loki asked.
“A punctured lung, a few broken ribs, multiple lacerations, but she’ll be fine.”
“That’s good to hear,” Loki said, looking back at his sleeping daughter. “I never did thank you and Dunner for saving Ailsa.”
“You would have done the same for any of us,” Nora replied. “I only wish…”
“I know.”
Nora took a breath. “How are you doing?”
“Confused, scared, depressed,” Loki admitted. “I ran out of tears, though, so that’s good…I guess.”
“Did they say when Ailsa will be released?”
“A few days.”
“If you need someone to watch her while you are away, we’d be more than happy to help out.”
Loki forced a smile. “Thank you, but I don’t think that will be necessary.”
“You’re not returning to duty?” Nora wondered, surprised.
“How can I?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Ailsa has already lost her mother. How can I risk her losing her father, as well?”
“I can see your point,” Nora admitted. “However, I’m not sure you’re looking at things correctly.”
“No offense, but how would you know?” Loki wondered.
“My father left us to go to war,” she explained, “more than once, I might add.”
“It’s different,” Loki insisted.
“At first, I resented him for it. I thought he was being selfish…putting us through all the worrying, the heartache.”
“But you had your mother.”
“Actually, we didn’t,” Nora corrected. “Not the first time, anyway. Our biological mother died when we were young. He left us with our grandparents. Terris is our step-mother. She came along a few years later.”
“Did you ever ask your father why he left you behind to go to war?”
“No, my grandfather explained it to me,” Nora replied. “He told me that had my father not gone, he would not be the man my mother had married. He explained that he fought to protect me and my brother, as well as everyone else. He told us that if our father had chosen to stay home, it would have been unfair to all the other men who were leaving their families behind, as well.”
“Did you understand?”
“Not at the time, no,” Nora admitted, “but later I did.”
“How much later?” Loki wondered.
“When I was a teenager, and he left to liberate Earth.” Nora moved closer to Loki. “If you do not return to your post, Ailsa will feel as if she is to blame. She would always wonder if you regretted your decision.”
“But…”
“Loki, I can’t tell you what you should do. All I can tell you is that what you, my father, and all the others do is important…very important. People like you are all that stands between the Dusahn and the rest of us.”
“Then you would think less of me if I did not return to duty?”
“Of course not,” Nora assured him, taking his hand. “I would think you are a man who loves his daughter and is afraid that she will feel abandoned, should he not return from war.”
“You’re not making this any easier,” Loki said.
“There is nothing about any of this that is easy, Loki. Nothing at all.”
* * *
Nathan stood staring at the image of Rakuen on the view screen in the command briefing room as it slowly rotated beneath the Aurora.
“You wanted t
o speak with me, Captain?” General Telles asked as he entered the room.
“It was a mistake not giving her windows,” he declared as he continued staring at the beautiful, azure planet. “I know this view is exactly what it would be, were there a window to the outside here, probably even in better detail, but it’s not the same. There’s a disconnect. In your mind, you still know you’re looking at a reproduction. You’re not really there.”
“In this case, you are,” the general disagreed. “There is just an intermediate step, that of the camera, the processors, and the display.”
“You could put any planet on that screen, though,” Nathan replied. “That knowledge is what takes so much away from it.” Nathan turned to look at the general. “The Seiiki had windows. What you saw was what was really out there. I miss that ship.”
“You brought me here to reminisce about the Seiiki?”
“No, I need your help,” Nathan replied. “I find myself facing a difficult decision.”
“About whether or not to fight Lord Dusahn?”
“No, I’ve shelved that decision for the time being,” Nathan said, taking a seat at the conference table. “According to Commander Andreola, at least two Dusahn battleships, perhaps even heavy battleships, are nearing completion at the Orswellan shipyards. We need to destroy that facility, hopefully taking those two warships out, as well. The problem is that the existence of that facility is possibly the only thing keeping the Orswellans alive. Destroy it, and the Dusahn have no reason to remain in the Orswellan system.”
“You believe the Dusahn will glass the planet on their way out,” General Telles surmised.
“If they were willing to booby-trap the Orswellan ships, so they could not be used against them, it stands to reason that they would do the same with the Orswellan shipyards and, by extension, their entire civilization. Why leave it behind to support their liberators or to be rebuilt and, someday, turned against them?”
“It is common for a mobile force to leave nothing behind of value to their enemy, or potential enemies,” General Telles agreed.
“Then, I’m not crazy,” Nathan said.
“That is a different topic,” the general replied.
“More Ghatazhak humor.”