Armageddon

by Craig Alanson

  While officially surrendering all scientists, their research materials and data, and anything else the Maxolhx demanded, the birdbrain government’s clandestine intelligence agency was also frantically scrambling to screw their asshole patrons as best they could. There was a secret effort to identify, locate and hide any scientists, research materials and data that might actually provide useful info about the prohibited, advanced spacetime-warping technology. Such scientists, materials and data were to be secured for future use by the Bosphuraq, or destroyed so the Maxolhx did not gain access to such incredible power. Unfortunately for the Bosphuraq, the Maxolhx of course soon learned about the clandestine effort to cheat by their clients, and that sparked a second round of punishing attacks that lasted two days.

  After that, the clandestine effort resumed, but at a low enough level of cheating that the Maxolhx figured was good enough.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  “Colonel,” Smythe stopped me in the corridor outside the gym the next day. I had gotten up early, feeling good. I was feeling good, really good. The filthy monkeys of the Merry Band of Pirates had kicked ass again, and no one outside our home star system even knew we existed. “If you don’t mind my asking, what are you planning to do next?”

  “Uh,” my brain was blank, because I had been focused on hitting the gym for a workout. “We haven’t received word yet that the blockade of Gateway is being lifted, so we can’t go home. I was considering taking the ship back to the beta site.”

  “Excellent idea, Sir,” he agreed. Clearly, he intended to recommend that course of action to me, if I didn’t do it myself. “Even if the blockade ended today, our return to the beta site would be delayed significantly. The people at Avalon will be fearful when this ship is overdue to return.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” I was thinking about that, and a lot of other complications regarding the people on Avalon.

  “Also, if we do encounter any further,” he paused. “Issues, out here, it would be good to have a full complement of STAR personnel aboard. I would also like to have the Condor with us, to provide flexibility for long-range missions.”

  “If we take the STAR team with us, we will have to pull everyone off the surface and bring them back to Earth with us,” I mused. “The UN Commissioners would never agree to keep the survey team on the surface, without security backup. That would mean ending the survey early, perhaps prematurely. The survey effort would need to need to begin from zero again, when we returned.”

  Smythe raised an eyebrow, to say the concerns of science nerds were less important than the mission of the Merry Band of Pirates, and I agreed with him. “There is one, complication.”

  He didn’t even raise an eyebrow at my comment. We were the Merry Band of Pirates. Of course there was a complication to everything we did.

  “Right now, if something happens to this ship, and the Maxolhx for some reason decide to still send ships to Earth-”

  “Skippy believes that is rather unlikely,” Smythe interjected.

  “Yes, and I agree with his reasoning. But the Maxolhx are an alien culture. We can’t truly anticipate how they will think, and Skippy can’t either. If the Dutchman suffers a problem Skippy can’t fix, and both Earth and the humans on Paradise are wiped out by the Maxolhx, there will still be humans on Avalon. If we pull the team off that planet,” I shrugged. “Avalon is an insurance policy.”

  Smythe thought for a moment. No doubt he was mentally going through the supplies we had left with the survey team. “The people on Avalon had enough food for sixteen months when we left. They also had a variety of seeds, but we don’t know if they will grow in those conditions.”

  “The test seeds were growing well enough when we left,” I reminded him. “We have experience with growing food on Paradise, Gingerbread, even those containers we had in the caverns on Newark. Maybe Avalon isn’t our best choice for a beta site, but I would not like to abandon that back-up plan, unless we have no other choice. Anyway, I’m considering it. Technically, we should have flown back to Avalon to get instructions from the Commissioners, when were cut off from Earth.”

  Smythe’s lips drew into a tight line. “The Commissioners have no authority over military operations,” he reminded me.

  “Yes, because we have strict orders not to take any military action, without going back to Earth first. No one anticipated that the Gateway wormhole would be blockaded. UNEF Command made it very clear that I also don’t have any authority to take military action out here, without consulting them first. Framing the Bosphuraq didn’t require us to fire a single shot, but I really pushed the limit of my orders. We nearly landed on Paradise, and that would have been a direct violation of a standing order.”

  I went into the gym and hit the rowing machine, mostly because I needed to think, and rowing is a mindless activity. Also because I was sick of running on the treadmill. What Smythe said about pulling the STAR team off Avalon made sense; if we did get into more trouble before we could return to Earth, we needed more highly-skilled operators aboard the ship. The problem for me was, going to Avalon would virtually guarantee the Commissioners came aboard with the STAR team. So, if we needed the STAR team to engage in the sort of things those operators do, then I was going to encounter a lot of resistance from the Three Stooges, and probably from Chotek also. When they heard that we had started yet another vicious alien war by framing the Bosphuraq, they would not be happy about that.

  My real concern was if the Commissioners had secret orders to relieve me of command if they thought I was being reckless, again. I thought it was almost certain the UN had given the Commissioners authority to put someone else, like Chang or Smythe or Simms, in command of the ship. If, or really when, that happened, I would have to decide whether to obey those orders. Another mutiny might tear our new crew apart.

  My decision would depend on the situation at the time. Our frame-up of the Bosphuraq sure was working perfectly, so all we had to do was wait for the Maxolhx to lift their blockade of the Gateway wormhole, then we could go home. No way could I justify a mutiny, if our only mission was drifting in deep space while we waited to go home.

  I expected to be relieved of command when we returned home anyway, but bringing the ship home as captain after another unexpected but successful mission, was much different from the situation if I came home as a disgraced passenger. In the first case, UNEF Command would need to remove me from command, which would require an investigation and hearings and a whole bunch of political bullshit that Command would want to avoid. In the second case, all UNEF Command had to do was nothing, because the decision would have conveniently already been made far from home. The second case, of me arriving back on Earth stripped of command and rank, would make pretty much everyone happy, especially all the highly-qualified and highly-motivated people who wanted to be in the captain’s chair.

  So, I was not eager to go back to Avalon, even though I agreed we might need Giraud’s STAR team if we got into trouble again.

  “Penny for your thoughts, Sir,” Desai said, as she bent down to wave a hand in front of my face. She had to do that to get my attention, because I apparently had not responded when she talked to me the first time.

  “Huh? Oh, sorry.” I wasn’t wearing headphones, but the speakers in the gym were blasting some K-Pop hip-hop tune and it was loud. Without noticing, I had slowed down my rowing until I was literally barely going through the motion. I looked up at her, she was dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt to exercise. “How are you, XO?”

  “How are you? You were staring off into space.” She sat down on the rowing machine next to mine, and leaned in so we could speak quietly.

  “I’m, uh, fine.”

  She cocked her head at me. Why do women seem to do that when they’re talking to me? Oh, right, it’s because I’m a doofus. “I know what ‘fine’ means, Sir,” she told me. “The mental state of the captain is something I am supposed to be concerned about, as executive officer. You made me your XO.”


  Glancing around, I confirmed no one was likely to overhear our conversation. “Smythe thinks that, while we’re waiting for the kitties to lift their blockade of Gateway, we should pick up Giraud’s STAR team from Avalon. In case we run into more trouble.”

  “Ah.” She instantly understood my dilemma. “You are concerned that Mister Chotek and the Stooges have orders to relieve you.”

  I stared at her in surprise. Not that she had guessed my thoughts, because she was smart and knew our situation. Those qualities just made her a good exec. What surprised me was her referring to our three new Commissioners as the Three Stooges. In the past, she had not been a big user of slang, telling me that casual slang was a bad idea with an international crew who might not have a common frame of reference. Also, she had been among the few people who had not amused themselves by referring to Hans Chotek as ‘Count Chocula’. “Yeah, I am.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she shook her head. “I have the same secret orders from UNEF Command.”

  My eyebrows flew up so far, they almost hit the ceiling. “You do?”

  “Of course. I am second in command of this ship,” she reminded me, her tone implying a mild ‘duh’. She must have picked up that habit from Skippy.

  “And I should not worry about this.”

  “No. Not because we have secret orders to pull the rug out from under your feet, but because of the nature of those orders. They are proactive in nature, not punitive.”

  “Huh.”

  “The Commissioners are authorized to relieve you, and put me in command, if and only if, they have good reason to believe your future actions will place the mission, the ship or Earth at risk.”

  “So, any dumb thing I already did, is not grounds to relieve me.”

  “Correct.” She gave me a kindly, almost motherly smile. “Also, regarding strictly military matters, I have authority to overrule them, and refuse to take command. There is another factor that will protect you, at least until we return to Earth.”

  “What is that?”

  “If we do get into a situation that requires Giraud’s STAR team, that will be a military matter the Commissioners have no authority over.”

  “Oh.” I thought about that for a moment. “So, UNEF Command doesn’t trust my judgment, except when they need me to take action?”

  “The way it was explained to me was,” now her smile reflected amusement. “They are impressed by your innovative tactical thinking. What they don’t trust is your ability to consider the long-term implications of your actions.”

  I sighed. “They’re right about that.”

  “Sir, remember, I was with you on every mission except the last one. I certainly didn’t see any better options at the time, to anything we did. Many times, I thought we, and humanity, were dead for certain. Until you applied that ‘innovative tactical thinking’ that even UNEF Command is grudgingly impressed by.”

  “So, you agree we should go back to Avalon?”

  “No,” she shook her head, surprising me again. “If we go way out there, we lose the ability to monitor the strategic situation here. The Maxolhx have not yet officially canceled the effort to send a battlegroup to Earth.”

  “Skippy tells me that is only a matter of time. His judgment is the Maxolhx will not risk sending that much combat power on a long journey to Earth, not while their coalition is weakened.” In one of the data files about the Maxolhx attack on Bosphuraq research stations, he had detected signs that particular attack had been conducted by some of the ships that were supposed to be assigned to the Earth mission. While those ships were busy wreaking havoc on their hapless clients, they were not being modified for the long journey to Earth and back.

  “Skippy’s judgment has been known to be wrong, at times,” she replied, and both of us glanced at the ceiling, expecting him to protest. For whatever reason, he remained silent. “The logic is simple, Sir. At present, we do not need to reinforce the STAR team aboard the ship. If we do need the bring Giraud’s team aboard, we can reach the beta site and return here in ten days. I cannot imagine a threat emerging so quickly that we do not have ten days to prepare.”

  “Ok, Ok,” I muttered mostly to myself. “That makes sense. It would take time to prepare a response anyway.” My decision disagreed with Smythe. I would explain my logic to him later. “XO, take the ship back to that Bosphuraq relay station. We’ll check the news there, then move on.”

  She looked down at her sneakers and yoga pants. “Sir, I’m off duty.” She looked over to the room where people were gathering for one of the classes that Adams taught.

  “Oh,” my face got red. “Yeah.” I threw a towel over my shoulders. “I’ll inform the duty officer.”

  As she walked away, I thought that I had been very lucky to have executive officers who were so sharp, and whose skills complemented mine. Chang, then Simms, briefly Adams, and now Desai all did their jobs so skillfully that most time, I had not noticed them doing anything. They kept the ship and crew running smoothly, leaving me to focus on important commander stuff like Mario Kart.

  As she walked away, I also thought about how hot she looked in yoga pants.

  Man, I really, really needed to get laid.

  We hit up the Bosphuraq relay station for data and the situation had not changed. The Bosphuraq had essentially surrendered unconditionally, and were doing their best to give the Maxolhx something we knew they didn’t have. The Maxolhx had ordered the second-tier clients across their entire coalition to adopt a defensive posture, halting all offensive operations except those where the clients would have major difficulties repositioning their forces. The Bosphuraq had detected signs that the Maxolhx had activated reserve units, bringing back online ships that had not flown in hundreds of years. Skippy interpreted the activity as signs that the Maxolhx were trying to impress the Rindhalu with their strength, to deter adventurous notions the spiders might be having. I took it as a good sign the Maxolhx were too busy to think about sending ships to Earth. To reinforce the hopeful idea that the kitties did not need to fly all the way to Earth to investigate odd wormhole behavior, I ordered the ship to jump to an Elder wormhole in Bosphuraq territory. It was a risk, but a risk I thought well worth taking. We hid in stealth near the wormhole, waiting for it to open. In the Bosphuraq data, Skippy had found an interesting tidbit; the flightplan of one of their star carriers, that was scheduled to go through that wormhole at a specific location and time. We knew the star carrier’s exact flightplan, because Maxolhx now required all Bosphuraq ships to get their flightplans approved by the kitties.

  The star carrier jumped in, right on time. It did not detect us, and both of our ships hung quietly in deep interstellar space, waiting for the ancient Elder wormhole to emerge on schedule. It did emerge, exactly as it had done on its figure-8 racetrack pattern for thousands of years. The only difference was that this time, while the Bosphuraq star carrier waited for the wormhole to stabilize before approaching, Skippy sent a command through higher spacetime, or whatever he did. The wormhole did not stabilize. Instead, it erupted violently, sending a hellish fountain of disrupted, twisted spacetime out twelve kilometers. The Bosphuraq star carrier, and the four ships it was transporting, were bathed in short-lived but high-energy radiation that made their shields glow like a small sun for an instant. Because Skippy had anticipated the exact spectrum of radiation the wormhole would output, and because the Flying Dutchman was tucked on the other side of the wormhole’s event horizon, he was able to retune our stealth field, so we mostly remained hidden. The sensors of the Bosphuraq ships were so blinded by the event, we could have parked next to them and set off fireworks without being seen.

  The star carrier limped away in normal space, probably to take the sensible precaution of triple-checking their jump drive. After thirty-seven hours, they jumped back the way they came, not taking the risk of trying to go through that dangerous wormhole at another emergence point. Between the wormholes that Skippy got to act crazy during our last mission
, and now this one, the Maxolhx now had plenty of Elder wormhole mysteries to investigate right in their own backyard. There was no reason for them to send valuable warships on a long, lonely journey to our backwater homeworld, especially not while their coalition was weakened by an ongoing Kristang civil war and an attempted rebellion by the Bosphuraq. No reason at all.

  I was confident that, despite the best efforts of Emily Perkins, we had nipped that problem in the bud, and would be triumphantly heading home before the Flying Dutchman ran out of delicious cheeseburgers.

  Which made me wonder what new problem the Universe was going to smack me in the face with.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  In my office, I was updating a summary of our mission, which I had named ‘Operation Armageddon’. That name had been chosen because it would have been Armageddon for Earth, if we hadn’t successfully framed the Bosphuraq, and I wanted the UN to remember that when they evaluated my actions.

  Plus, ‘Operation Armageddon’ sounds cool.

  Skippy interrupted my thoughts by appearing above my keyboard, making me jerk back in my chair. “Ugh, Joe. I suck.”

  A good person, when their friend confesses to suckitude, would say some happy bullshit like that could not possibly be true, or other equally empty words that both parties know isn’t true. Skippy had been such an asshole for so long, that no way could I resist the opportunity to bust his balls. “Ok. Why?”