No one was fooled for an instant. Sometimes the pilots joked that Crineal’s debriefs were harder than the battles themselves. They knew they would need to be alert tomorrow afternoon and not stuffed with food and feeling sleepy.
“Does anyone have anything urgent they need to raise now?” He waited for a few seconds but no one spoke up. “Then we’re done for today, people. I’m heading to medical but will be in my office after that for a couple of hours if anyone needs to see me.” Strieger called the pilots to attention and they all stood and saluted. Crineal and Strieger returned the salutes and then Crineal dismissed them. Some of the pilots sat back down to chat amongst themselves whilst others headed off to their rooms to change out of their flight gear and into ship’s uniform. Strieger saluted Crineal and left the ready room as well. He stayed behind for a couple of minutes to exchange a few words with the remaining groups of pilots and then headed off to medical. Some senior officers kept their distance from their pilots and usually ended up with very little idea of what was happening within their squadrons. Others got too friendly and were unable command effectively. It was a narrow line to tread and Crineal had learnt from the best. His stop at the medical section was brief. None of the four pilots were badly injured and all would be at least fit for light duty and tomorrow’s debriefing session. Crineal sat with each one for a couple of minutes, asked how they were feeling and made some small talk with them. All of the pilots assured him that they would be fit for flight duty in just a few hours and they were fine. It always reminded Crineal of a line from one of his home world’s classic comedies, ‘it’s just a scratch’, and that raised a smile for him. Underneath though, it showed that his pilots’ morale was good and that he could be confident that they were giving their all.
From medical he went to his quarters to change out of his black flight suit and into standard uniform. The normal ship’s uniform consisted of black pants and jacket with silver trim, and matching calf high black boots. The jacket had a wrap across breast panel that sealed electro-statically, alleviating the need for buttons or zips. There were division patches on the upper arms to indicate his duty post and rank insignia on the collar lapels. The three gold stars that indicated his rank of general glinted back at him in the mirror as he stood in front of the sink in his bathroom. Crineal took a few moments to rinse his face and freshen up before heading to his office to review the patrol records and deal with all the other administrative details that seemed to require his absolute and immediate attention. His office was small and plain, containing just a few chairs and a desk. The desk, of course, was also his data-point and from it he could access the ship’s computer network. With total electronic data storage and retrieval there was no need for most of the office paraphernalia he was used to in his former job. He sometimes wondered if he could put in a couple of filing cabinets, just for nostalgia, and maybe lose some of the reports in them somehow. If only it was just his own squadron he was dealing with, then the admin wouldn’t be a problem, he thought. But, for his sins, he was Annihilator’s flight group commander, which made him responsible for all of the squadrons in the strike force. Mostly the squadron leaders handled their own issues, but the tricky ones all found their way onto his desk. What was that old saying? Ten percent of the problems occupy ninety percent of your time. Crineal sighed as he leaned forward again to look at the patrol flight recordings once more, the holographic screens lighting up his face. He’d been at it for about thirty minutes when the door plate chimed and announced Major Strieger. He keyed the door open from his desk and Strieger walked in carrying two cups. She smiled in self-satisfaction as she noted the lack of drink anywhere on Crineal’s desk, pleased that she knew her commanding officer well enough to guess he’d be neglecting himself.
“Borrelean ale or tea, Sir?” Strieger asked him, jokingly. She looked as fresh as if she had just woken up and then spent two hours primping herself. Crineal was amazed at how she managed it, and a little jealous, too.
“I’ll take the tea,” he said and held out his hand. He knew that the other cup didn’t hold the potent alcoholic ale but was more likely kafe, the major’s preferred drink. Crineal shut down the screens and leaned back in his chair as he gestured for Strieger to take one of the seats on the other side of his desk. She sat down and considered him with her green-blue eyes. He looked tired and in need of a rest, she thought.
The major nodded towards where the now absent screens had been. “Find anything worrying?” Strieger asked as she raised her cup to her lips.
He sipped his tea for a moment. “Minor stuff. Dellerman is still too quick to break off and chase down an opponent. It’s going to get him into trouble one day.”
Strieger shrugged, her blonde bangs bouncing on her forehead. “He’ll learn. He’s still young.”
Crineal sighed. “If he doesn’t learn fast he won’t get much older.”
The major grinned at him with her generous pale pink lips. “Says the general from his lofty age of what? Thirty-six?”
He put on a wounded look. “Thirty-five if you don’t mind,” and then grinned back at her. “Still, someone will need to have a chat with him. He’s good but he needs to rein himself in a bit. Do you want to talk to him?” Crineal asked hopefully.
“Oh no, Sir. I think it would have more impact coming from an elder statesman such as yourself.” Strieger smiled at Crineal. She had ten more years than he did but easily looked like she could have been his younger sister. Imperial medical treatments greatly retarded the aging process. Even sixty was still considered young in Imperial terms.
Crineal put on a sour expression. “Fine, I’ll go and be all patriarchal, see if I can get some sense into him.”
The major looked at him mischievously over her cup. “I think I have a false long white beard I can lend you.” Crineal snorted. “At least we don’t have any more patrols scheduled before we make the next jump so we’ve got plenty of time to get some more training in for the younger pilots.”
He nodded. “There is that and then they can have some R & R at the next stop. I think everyone can use it.”
Strieger noted he hadn’t named their destination. “How does it feel to be going home again?” She watched for his reaction curiously. As far as she knew he hadn’t been to the planet of his birth since he joined the Space Corps and she wondered about it.
Crineal sat looking into his tea for a few minutes and then sighed. “I’ve been trying not to think about it. It’s been twelve years since I left Earth. I’m sure most of it won’t be recognizable to me now. I didn’t have many ties left when I joined up. Now…?” he shrugged. The planet seemed a distant memory to him.
Chapter Two
Earth was an oddity in the Empire, the oddity in fact. The IWF, or more properly the Imperial Federated Worlds, had formed out of a group of star systems in the same spiral arm as Earth but closer to the core of the galaxy. Humans had evolved on nine separate worlds that were close together in galactic terms, but in different planetary systems. Their social evolutionary patterns had all been similar until they started reaching out into space. Three of the worlds developed forms of interstellar travel at roughly the same time and quickly found their neighbors. This surprised everyone involved initially, and there was much speculation as to the possibility of alien genetic seeding. The more conservative scientific thought pointed out that the planets were all of a similar nature and were, therefore, as likely as not to produce similar life forms. In addition there was a total lack of evidence of aliens anywhere. This came to be accepted theory, although still disputed by certain sections of academia. The nine planetary systems began to trade with each other and, after a few minor border skirmishes, eventually formed the IFW, realizing that interstellar war was far less profitable than a good solid peace. The individual governments put their heads together and appointed an emperor to preside over the Imperial Council. His role was defined so as to act as a balance and to look after the interests of the average citizen. Each of the heads o
f the planetary governments became council members along with their closest advisors. They took the titles of Lords and Barons, with the approval and recognition of the Emperor, and thus the nobility of the Empire was born. With interstellar trade now firmly established it wasn’t long before new territory was sought out to provide more resources for the growing empire and waves of explorers headed outwards seeking new planets to colonize. Within a hundred years the number of worlds within the Empire had risen to twenty-five, and in the next hundred it added another ninety colonies. With these extra worlds came problems. Not everyone was happy with the current government and some with good cause. The council appointed governors to oversee these worlds and, as is usual with humans, they were a mixed bag of the good, the bad and the downright ugly, not to mention avaricious. Slowly unrest began to form, some out of injustice, some out of greed and some because a few people didn’t fit in and just wanted a good fight. The discontent in the outer worlds coalesced into the Artranus Rebellion, named after the planet it began on, and for the first time in over two hundred years, interstellar war was back on the agenda. The Imperial Council quickly passed some budgetary measures and expanded the Imperial Space Corps from an exploration service into a fully-fledged military organization. Trying to pin down an enemy over interstellar distances proved a problem, though, and after a few initial stand-up battles, the war degenerated into hit and run raids and vicious Imperial crackdowns on worlds suspected of supporting the rebels. Neither side was able to claim the clear moral high ground. The Imperial nobles were mostly corrupt and self-serving; the rebel leadership seemed equally as vicious and petty as its Imperial counterparts and the unrest dragged on.
Twenty years into the war came the discovery that shook the empire’s scientific foundations. An Imperial exploration ship jumped into an uncharted star system just outside of Imperial space, further out into the spiral arm, and immediately began picking up all kinds of signals. A quick scan of the system showed the third planet to be teeming with life – human life. There were a few orbital facilities but no expansion to the surrounding planets. This wasn’t a lost colony but a brand new independent race of humans. The scout collected as much information as it could about the new people and then reported back to Central Command. Central Command took one look at the data and promptly passed the buck upwards to the Imperial Council. The council quickly decided to send a diplomatic mission to this new branch of humanity. Back in the Imperial universities, debate once again raged as to whether this new species of human now proved or disproved alien involvement in the origins of the human species, and they waited eagerly for more information about the new planet and its history. The sciences of the new world seemed to be about five hundred years behind that of the Empire, further fueling speculation that this might be a later seeding of humanity.
Given the last twenty years of warfare and the greed of a large part of the council, it was considered that the diplomats’ ideal means of transport should be a carrier strike force, purely as a means of defense, of course. The strike force jumped into the Sol system, as it was known to its inhabitants, and the lead diplomat immediately ordered that all local communications satellites be overridden so that he could make a broadcast to the people of the planet. The ambassador’s speech was made worldwide to every television and radio set around the world. Some of the major governments of the world had a little warning of what was happening because their telescopes and early warning systems had picked up the arrival of the ships. However, they were all still digesting the fact that an alien fleet had arrived when the broadcast began.
The speech, carefully crafted by the Imperial Council, boiled down to a declaration of joy that the Imperial Federated Worlds had found another offshoot of humanity, that it could not wait to learn what the culture of Earth had to offer, and that it would be pleased to accept the Earth into the Empire as soon as the leaders could sign a treaty. There was a certain sense of “or else” about the treaty signing part. The councilors weren’t about to pass up the chance to add another source of income to their coffers. The aforementioned Earth leaders took one look at the treaty and realized they would be signing away all of their power to the Imperial Council. The answer was a resounding “Thanks, but No Thanks,” and the three major space-faring nations promptly aimed whatever weaponry they could muster at the Imperial ships.
Meanwhile, chaos erupted across the world. The long-awaited aliens had arrived – and they were us, humans from other planets. Of all the first contact scenarios it was the most unlikely. The leaders of the world’s religions held crisis talks to discuss the theological impact of their arrival. And the general population went into hysterics over whether this was the end of the world or the dawn of a golden age.
The Imperial Ambassador was informed of both the negative reply and the weapons now turned towards the diplomatic mission’s ships. He made a second broadcast regretting the initial reply he had received and the shortsightedness of Earth’s leaders, and then, smiling benignly, he gave a signal to the carrier’s weapons officer and Washington, Moscow and Beijing were vaporized. The ambassador then once again invited the remaining Earth leaders, and the word ‘remaining’ was firmly emphasized, to sign the treaty. The US, Russian and Chinese military launched everything they had at the Imperial ships. Not one missile even got close. London disappeared in a boiling inferno. The Imperial ambassador once more asked the leaders to sign; this time he wasn’t smiling. The negotiations were over. The leaders signed the treaty and Earth became the one hundred thirty-seventh Imperial world. The local date was March 16th, 2047; Crineal had been twenty-one years old.
As he sat there with Strieger, it felt like a lifetime ago, perhaps several lifetimes. He remembered the hysteria and panic and euphoria all mixed into one. Now he had no idea what Earth was like. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out either.
Strieger was still watching him. “No family or friends to visit?” she asked cautiously.
Crineal’s face closed down. “No,” he said shortly. “Thank you for the tea, but I’d better finish up the review and then get on with some personnel reports.” He sat up and edged closer to his desk again before turning the data screens back on.
She knew she had just hit a sore point, but wasn’t sure what. Perhaps his family had been in one of the cities that had been destroyed when the Empire had arrived. She stood up. “You’re welcome, Sir. I’ve got some paperwork to see to as well. I’ll see you in the morning.” Strieger saluted him and left his office to return to her own.
Crineal waited for the major to leave and then sat back in his chair once more and stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t angry with her. She had no idea about his life on Earth, mainly because he never talked about it. And now he was going back for the first time. He remembered the massive changes as the Imperial Council sent in a governor, new industrial methods and machinery, and also education teams to start bringing Earth sciences up to speed. Those first two years had been both amazing and scary. The world was unified for the first time and not sure how to cope with it. Society was reshaping itself, and it was sometimes ugly. Into this cauldron came the Artranus Rebellion, finding fertile ground amongst the people who had lost friends or family in the destruction of the four capitals and those who had lost power and wealth under the new Imperial government. Earth became the newest war zone, and being so far from the Imperial center, it was one of the most hotly contested. He leaned forward once more as he shook his head. It was all in the past now; it made no difference, he told himself. They would arrive at Earth in three days and he’d sign leave rosters for his pilots whilst he stayed on board and tried to get some rest. Crineal finished his review, closed down the screens and headed to his quarters to get some much needed sleep.
The following day started early and seemed to go on forever. He did paperwork in the morning and held a quick meeting over lunch with the other squadron leaders before spending the afternoon in the ready room working over the battle reports with his pilots. He managed
to have a talk with Dellerman and the young pilot certainly seemed to be listening, but only time would tell. He finally staggered into bed far too late for his tastes. The next morning, Crineal received a summons from Admiral Ken’Rathel. He reported to the admiral’s office at eleven hundred hours as ordered. Clandad, Ken’Rathel’s adjutant, announced his arrival to the admiral and then ushered Crineal into the office closing the door behind the general. The admiral, at one hundred seven years, was old by Earth standards but only middle-aged by Imperial measures. To Crineal he looked like your average, fit middle manager, but he respected the admiral’s sharp intellect and attention to detail. Like most Galactics, he was tall, well over six and a half feet in height, and his hair was still black and abundant although elegantly styled. The admiral’s brown eyes held a keen intelligence and didn’t miss much. Ken’Rathel came from one of the Imperial noble families and it showed in his whole demeanor, except he lacked the arrogance that most of them had. Crineal liked him.
Crineal Chronicles 1: In Hera's Service Page 2