A Sword Into Darkness

by Mays, Thomas A.

  “Granted, General, but this is no simple stolen plane or tank. It’s not even a stolen submarine. This is currently our one and only existing defense against these Deltans.”

  “I am aware of that, Madame President, but it is our most conventional recommended response, and it is the one I prefer. We have a decade or more before the Deltans arrive. We can build another.”

  Sykes grimaced. “I agree with the General that we can build another, but not for some time. However, his option assumes we can shoot the damn thing down. I’m sure our arsenal would be effective against the stolen shuttles, but I am a great deal less sure about attacking the destroyer. It’s a good two or three tech generations beyond our missile defense network. And assuming Kelley is inclined to go off mission and is considering an attack on a terrestrial location, we would be ill-advised to make an ineffective first strike upon him. ‘Ms. Nuclear Retribution’ isn’t a real winner as far as re-election campaign slogans go.”

  Tomlinson quietly considered the two men, looking from one to another. She shook her head and focused on Sykes. “Noted. Option three?”

  Sykes turned to bring the last slide forward on the screen, but hesitated. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but our third option is the one I’m going to be recommending. You, however, are not going to like it.”

  “Get on with it, Carl.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  March 7, 2045; USS Sword of Liberty (DA-1); En route Earth Orbit; Mission Day 2

  Nathan Kelley lay back in the Commanding Officer’s acceleration couch and looked at the Control Room’s central display. It revealed a beautiful, annotated, illuminated image of Earth with thousands of false color satellite tracks encircling it like rings, a chaotic, iridescent Saturn in miniature. It was an awe-inspiring view, but Nathan was left oddly hollow by it. He seemed to not know how to feel. At that moment, his emotions were a wild mixture of anticipation, exhilaration, contentment, and guilt—especially guilt, and for a couple of different reasons.

  There was, of course, the matter of his theft of the Sword of Liberty and the risky abandoning of her innocent joint military crew. But that was largely offset by his conviction that this was the right way to go about things, that such a move was essential to the success of the mission. No, the main source of his guilt—as well as a not insignificant degree of gleeful satisfaction—was because of something he had done which was almost completely unrelated to the Sword’s intended purpose.

  Kris popped up off of him with a mischievous smile. She grabbed up her shipsuit, slipping it and her underwear back on with a leisurely grace that he found much more enthralling than the fantastic image of the Earth from space.

  She slapped his leg as she finished, interrupting him mid-stretch. “C’mon, spaceman. Get your skivvies on and shake a leg. We’re almost to yon orbit and’ll be strikin’ the mainsail and dumpin’ the scuppers. Ye don’t want to be caught in ye olde freefall with your ass hangin’ out all nekkid-like, do ye? Arrrrr.”

  Nathan grinned and sat up, reaching for his own coveralls and paraphernalia. “It doesn’t matter how long you talk like that, you still aren’t a space pirate.”

  “Space privateer, maybe?”

  “Definitely not. That would involve government sanction—more or less the opposite of where we find ourselves.”

  She shrugged. “Oh well, at least I’m a charter member of the 10,000 Mile High Club. And the 50,000 Mile High Club. And the 100,000—”

  “And I can’t believe we did that. I’ve always been firmly against hanky-panky aboard ship. Contrary to good order and discipline and all that.”

  Kris grinned, stepping in close as he finished dressing. “Well if it’s discipline you want … .” She leaned in and kissed him. “I’ll have no guilt out of you, slave. What else did you think would end up happening? A brand spankin’ new couple, alone on a damn spaceship, with nobody around for hundreds of thousands of miles, on the run from the law as it were? Face it—they’d have kicked you out of the Dude Union if you hadn’t gone for it. You’re practically a pioneering hero now!”

  He smiled and kissed her back, his expression easy now, free of tension. “You’re right, Pirate Mate. Consider your leader properly abashed. Now let’s get ready to cut acceleration and maneuver for orbit.”

  “Aye, aye, Cap’n! Arrrrrrr!”

  They tidied up the Control Room to military precision again, then checked the instruments, verifying their position and velocity. Nathan began to search through the thousands of potential tracks as they approached, but the two SSTOS carrying their compatriots were right at the top of the track priority list. He selected the two shuttles, checked their orbital parameters, and let the computer automatically come up with a rendezvous course. With a few keystrokes, the new course was laid in and executed.

  The main drive cut off and they were immediately in freefall. The ship bumped briefly as it turned to a new vector and then “gravity” returned—much reduced—as they maneuvered to join up with Edwards and the rest of the crew.

  Nathan scrolled through a number of different displays, checking the status of each of the ship’s many, many mutually supporting systems. He paused at the defensive systems summary, relieved that the threat track list was blank for the moment. He had worried that as the Sword of Liberty closed with Earth and their treachery became apparent, Sykes or another trigger-happy type might try something. For the moment though, they were un-shot-at, and Nathan was glad that the fully ready laser emplacements and railgun had not been employed against missiles or other weapons from his own country.

  Kris checked her own displays at her engineering console, verifying the status and health of the reactor, drive, auxiliary, and environmental systems. She really wanted to go check them out herself, but without a crew onboard, there was simply too much that remained to be done for her to have times to place hands on. Satisfied for the moment, she nodded and drifted to each of the other dedicated consoles on the perimeter of the brightly lit bridge/Control Room, squeezing Nathan’s shoulder in passing.

  They continued in comfortable, busy silence for a few minutes, until Kris broke the calm with a low, “Oh, shit . . . .”

  Nathan jerked his head up from his console and looked over to her. Kris floated, bent down over the Comms station, not bothering to sit in the miniscule gravity. “What’s up, babe?”

  She turned to him, a half-smile frozen on her face. “You want the cool news or the ‘Holy Christ’ news first?”

  He cocked an eyebrow, perplexed. “Well, if we’re not being shot at, give me the cool stuff and lead me up to the other. You do it the other way and it’ll suck all the coolness out by comparison.”

  Kris grinned in full. “I’m tapped into the web, telecom network, and cable news via satellite uplink, and we’re pretty much the talk of the planet. The 24-hour news stations and sites are All-Sword-of-Liberty, all-the-time. Our website and e-mail queues are busting at the seams with traffic, and there are practically an infinite number of cell and radio-telephone calls in the hopper.”

  “Are we answering any of them?”

  “Nope. Just like you said, the auto-hailer and voicemail are shut down and we’re running silent, but they’re waiting anyways.”

  “Any of those broadcasts or webcasts covering the hijacking?”

  She shook her head. “Not a one. As far as the hoi polloi know, Colonel Henson, his military crew, and their two civilian riders are one big, happy space-family.”

  “There’s no way they can’t know by now. Even if Henson’s STOSS is still too far away to make a direct call home, they have to have flagged our behavior as soon as we broke comms and left the shuttle behind. So they’re keeping things quiet. Okay. What about Dave Edwards and the others?”

  Kris nodded. “I’ve got a burst data receipt from both STOSS’s. Everything’s quiet on their end and they’re standing by for rendezvous. Encryption is good and Edwards and Rainier both used the ‘Valkyrie’ code word. They’re not under duress.”


  Nathan nodded back and grinned as well. “Well, everything seems to be coming together better than I hoped. That is cool. Now what’s the big news?”

  Her smile grew more, flashing teeth. “The President’s on hold for you.”

  Nathan’s grin dropped and he looked appalled. “Damn it, Kris. Voice or visual?”

  “Visual. I’m putting it on the main screen, Star Trek style. Hope you’re zipped up, lover-boy.”

  He shook his head in dismay and sat up straighter in his seat, facing the Bridge’s primary viewscreen. The view of Earth and her myriad orbits vanished, replaced by a close-in view of Annabel Tomlinson, looking perturbed. Behind her could be seen a conference room and several silent figures, generals, admirals, and civilians alike. Nathan set his jaw firmly and nodded. “Madame President, it’s an honor.”

  There was the briefest, too-long pause as his signal crossed the minute gulf between them and her response flew back at the speed of light. Tomlinson’s expression remained hard, her voice icy. “How nice. Well, I would be honored if you would explain just what the hell you think you’re doing, Mr. Kelley.”

  “I would’ve thought that would be completely obvious by now. We are proceeding on our mission as originally proposed and approved, before Sykes, and you, I suppose, changed things.”

  “So you’re just going to take the ship that the US government built, that the taxpayers unknowingly paid for, and go haring about the galaxy to satisfy your own personal whims? You have a lot of gall.”

  Nathan shook his head. “No, Ma’am. We have an essential mission for which we have trained and qualified, as well as a sense of dedication to our country and our leaders which won’t permit us to let this asset go with a lesser crew. I’m not trying to insult Colonel Henson or his team, but they are rank amateurs compared to the original Windward complement. If we wait for them to become our equals, our timeline for intercepting the Deltans at a relatively safe distance will fall by the wayside. We can’t permit that, and you should just accept it. To tell the truth, you should embrace it.”

  The pause was a bit longer this time, despite the fact that every second brought them closer to Earth. Finally she spoke, her eyes seeming to lock with his even through the intermediaries of the screens and cameras. “I appreciate your position, Mr. Kelley, and I respect it in a way, but the fact remains that you are all civilians. You are not bound to the wishes of my administration, the will of the nation, or the strictures of the US Constitution. It would be criminal for me to allow you to go about your mission and enter negotiations with an alien race for this nation or for this planet. You simply haven’t the authority.”

  “Well, Ma’am, then we find ourselves in a quandary, because while I might not have the authority, I’m the only one with the means. And I’m not going to give that up.”

  Another pause, longer than the tiny light-speed lag. She appeared to be thinking, calculating. “Perhaps I should proceed as has been recommended, and simply shoot you down.”

  Nathan’s eyes narrowed and a corner of his mouth turned up. “I don’t think ‘simply’ would be how I’d describe it. I’m not so arrogant as to believe that you couldn’t shoot this ship down—I have no idea what sort of directed energy or missile technology the DOD might have hidden away, perhaps even some tech used in the Sword’s own design. I think it would be a nasty fight, though, and not one you are guaranteed to win. In addition, I would fear for the collateral damage—both the physical kind from a statistically probable miss and the political kind when everyone sees the US shooting down her own destroyer. Madame President, I would think very carefully before listening to anyone advising you to do that.”

  She nodded, more quickly this time. “I had come to much the same decision, though you might be surprised to note that I couldn’t really care less about the political firestorm such an action would unleash. Believe that or not. No, we aren’t going to shoot you down and we aren’t going to have you forcibly boarded. Instead, we are going to employ a much more subtle weapon against you.

  “You are a man of honor and duty, willing to even break the law, to endanger your future as a free man if you see that as the course honor dictates. You sacrificed much in the wake of the USS Rivero’s sinking, but the biggest casualty was your tie to the traditions of military service. Both you and the Navy lost something when you resigned. I’m happy that you have found another cause to believe in, another worthy task in which to invest yourself, but your desires and your goodwill are not enough. If this mission is to be undertaken by you, the interests of the United States must be served first and foremost. Secretary Sykes, if you please.”

  Nathan looked at Kris, confusion evident on both their faces. He looked back to the main screen to see the President move aside and Carl Sykes take center-stage. Sykes glared at him. “Nathan Kelley, please stand and raise your right hand.”

  Nathan did so, numbly, hardly even thinking.

  Sykes cleared his throat and stood at attention, his Air Force training coming to the fore. He did not bother with a note card. This was a passage each of the men knew by heart. “Repeat after me. I, state your name—”

  “I, Nathaniel Robert Kelley—”

  “—do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.”

  Nathan repeated the oath of office, oblivious to the open-mouthed stare Kris gave him from off-camera.

  Sykes relaxed and grinned with more than a hint of malice. “Checkmate. I know you, Commander Kelley. I know how you think, and no matter how you may have been intending to do business, you’ll do it the Navy way now. You’re my boy, and don’t you forget it. Now, Ms. Muñoz?”

  Kris, fear making her eyes huge, peeked over into the edge of the camera’s field of view. Sykes smiled wide when he saw her. “Raise your right hand, Missy.”

  13: “THE LIBERTY LETTERS”

  SAT TRANSCRIPTION QUEUE: XXX SUPPRESSED XXX

  DTG RECEIPT: 09 2219Z MAR 2045

  DTG TRANSMITTAL: 09 2217Z MAR 2045

  TIME-DISTANCE LAG: 000:00:02:1.3 D:H:M:S

  FROM: Nathan Kelley, CDR, USAN

  [KELLEY.NATHANIEL@SOL.WINDWARD.NET$

  USAN.MIL;

  CO@SOL.WINDWARD.NET$USAN.MIL]

  TO: Paul Kelley

  [CLANKELLEY0819@WEBRUNNER.COM$PHILA.PA.GOV]

  SUBJ: Guess where I am?

  MSG: Hey, Pop.

  As you’ve no doubt discovered from the 24-hour news coverage and such, I’ve gone on a little trip. It’s been a whirlwind couple of days (as you might imagine), but now that we’re all aboard, settled, and on our way, I managed to find a little free time, so I wanted to write and let you know the whole truth on everything—the truth that I wish I could have shared with you and Mom before this.

  First, let me apologize for that. I know you’ve had to put up with my secrets in the past, like during the investigation following what happened on the RIVERO, but until recently, there was nothing officially classified about what our project. Yeah, there was a lot of it that was fairly UN-believable, but there wasn’t really anything I had to exclude you on. I guess, at first, it was simple embarrassment. I mean, I had this great job, working for one of the most fascinating innovators in the world, and what was I doing? Oh nothing insane … like building spaceships to go visit aliens, perhaps.

  Sure, some of it was technical or industrially sensitive, so I really wasn’t inclined to say anything (nor would you have been that interested), but as for the Big Idea, as for what I was really doing and why, I never should have kept that from you two. And now, with the crazy way things have finally come together, you had to hear about what your son’s been doing from the TV and the web rather than from your own flesh a
nd blood.

  Well, no more. Now that we’re underway, further out and faster than anyone has ever gone before, and with so much longer a journey still ahead of us, there’s no reason to hold anything back. Here it is, the whole truth, some of which is already out there, some of which is covered by misinformation, and some of it yet to come out (sorry about the NDAs the Feds are making you sign, by the way):

  The Deltans are real. We’ve visited them with one probe, and have another on the way, and they are just as real as Christmas. We don’t know why they’re coming here, but they’ll arrive in about 11 years. We’re going out to say, “Hi, whatcha doin’?” and, if we need to, swat them on the nose.

  To do that, Gordon Lee and I (and a few others, I suppose) built this ship, the USS SWORD OF LIBERTY (DA 1), the flagship (OK, the ONLY ship) of the United States Aerospace Navy. I guess I didn’t learn my lesson from RIVERO. So, I’m back in the service, though, technically, it’s a brand new service.

  You might hear a couple of different versions of how that came to be, or about crew swaps, about being press-ganged into re-taking the oath, or some crap about us hijacking the SWORD, but allow me play rumor control.