by Lee Guo
As her ship the Demosthenes began the Dispersion Method, she watched the Beginner’s Luck dwindle away on the rear monitor in the aft wall. The entire dreadnought, now computer controlled, initiated its warp suspenders and headed in the opposite direction to attack the incoming enemy ships, to buy time for the fleet with crews in them to escape.
Minutes later, she saw on the map as h-waves slammed into the Beginner’s Luck, who was firing its own h-beams at the three hunter-killers that surrounded it.
Moments after that, the flagship flared like a new sun—obviously one of its reactors had been penetrated.
Vier breathed out a moment of sadness, but stopped short of feeling remiss — it died with guns blazing, and that was precisely how Vier wanted to remember her flagship.
Battlespace…
Six hundred warships – human ships of the line – smashed into the ranks of the feline H-Ks with their hyperbeams slashing. The Ga countered with their hyperwaves hammering into the non-crewed hulls. Since the human fleet of six hundred computer controlled ships were unoccupied, and since their lighter allies had evacuated in the other direction, these ships were no match for the far numerous waves of Ga H-Ks. The AIs fought well, but they were only AIs. But they did buy time for the crowded human ships to get away—succeeding only in that measure.
Within an hour, one hundred and sixty additional Ga H-Ks were destroyed with all six hundred human dreadnoughts, battlecruisers, and heavy-cruisers lost. A tonnage trade of 100 million tons of Ga vessels for 12 billion tons of human warships – one of the costliest trades in human maritime history.
Nevertheless, the other human vessels did get away. Because of the last minute transportation measures taken by Vier Kleingelt, the vast majority of the fleets’ remaining crews were saved. Since all the remaining human ships could maneuver at a minimum speed of 25,000 SL, very few of them were destroyed before exiting the sensor range of the Gas’ farthest hyperspace probes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
6 hours later.
January 25th 3987 AD
Remnants of the Betelgeuse Combined Fleet
Temporary Flagship, Destroyer Demosthenes
Temporary Officer’s Quarters, Room 5D, Deck 3…
Vier tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. It couldn’t, because she could not stop thinking. That was what happened during battles and it took days before that habit wore off. Oh, but it would eventually come – in the form of absolute collapse.
The sedatives never worked. It never worked.
She closed her eyes, but her brain continued to show her images of holomaps, holodisplays and bridge informatics. She saw the men and women she had cared for and the faces of the commodores and rear admirals who had looked up at her, and she remembered Mu Pei’s face, who kept reappearing at the oddest times, no matter how hard she tried to think of something else. Then of course, there was that face that simply would not disappear – the face of the young burned man in corridor 41B, deck eight. She saw him – the boy – his body meshed with blood. His uniform, burnt, red and black instead of dark blue. She saw him plead to her – “Help… Help…” Every moment she closed her eyes. She saw Willock’s face most of all, how she hated his face, because it kept reappearing to the left of the boy, instead of by itself as would happen, if she imagined the command bridge.
“Fuck,”Vier muttered aloud. “Fuck you and your dilemma—my dilemma.”
Willock groaned in the bunk beneath her. She waited a bit, and then his snoring began, again.
Fuck you for doing what’s right. For doing what was necessary. I hate that word now, even though I’ve made a career of it. I hate ‘what’s necessary’ more than I hate anything.
Yet, she reminded herself, she had followed that phrase perfectly ever since she took command of the fleet from Mu Pei.
Moreover, as much as she hated Willock for convincing her to abandon the boy, she had done the same thing a thousand times more by ordering the boarding tubes to be cut. Why is one instance a tragedy but a thousand times a necessity?
She pondered on that thought for a while, trying to push the whole thing away, but her mind would not stop concentrating on the boy’s burned face.
Hate. Hate. Hate.
Her logical mind knew that such an emotion was reckless and pointless, but the word kept appearing in her head. She hated the Cats, and their entire reason for conquest, she hated their ships and their weapons, and their abilities to use them – and she hated herself for letting things to get to such a disastrous point, for being so gullible.
How could you, Mu Pei? How could I?
Somewhere in her brain, she knew she had done what was absolutely necessary, that she had played the game perfectly well, but the other part knew that she had failed. She’d failed humanity and allowed things to come to such a state of being.
10 million spacers. 10 million spacemen. 10 million humans, dead – in what was the greatest military tragedy so far in the war, or for that matter, all wars during the last century. The trap had been set and humanity – she – had fallen for it. No matter what she did, she could not envision herself as a savior but rather part of the victimized, the loser, the gullible prey.
She tried to calm herself, to stop the painful emotions, to convince herself that she had done everything within her power to stop that inevitability from happening, but nothing could stop the flood of failure from crashing through her walls of logic and her induced belief of her own limits of responsibility.
Fuck. Why was she so bedazzled by this? Hadn’t she saved 4 million lives by ordering the crew transfer? Shouldn’t she feel glad instead of guilty?
Why? Why? Why?
The kid. The boy. The image of him had started this. The feelings of guilt and loss, reversal, and suffering.
I’ve got to rationalize myself out of this…Vier tried to convince herself… I have to, or I won’t be fit for command.
She needed to see a therapist. She got out of bed, put on her uniform and headed out of the small makeshift room that served as officer’s quarters for a ship that swelled its population by twenty times.
Corridor 5A, deck 2…
“What do you mean she’s unavailable?” Vier cried.
“She’s booked for the next two days, ma’am,” the android clerk replied while standing in the middle of well-lit crowded hallway.
“But I’m the Admiral of the goddamn fleet!”
“Sorry, queue rules still apply, ma’am.”
“Need help?” a strangely familiar voice asked.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw Captain Willock’s unshaven face. He wore no uniform but his slacks.
“How did you know where to find me?” Vier asked.
“A hunch,” Willock smiled.
“I uh—I actually do,” Vier murmured. “Let’s go someplace quiet, Captain.”
“You can call me Kahle for now,” Willock urged. “We’re off duty, aren’t we?”
“Sure, Kahle. Where to?” And then she remembered she hated him. She followed him through corridor after corridor, searching for a safe quiet place, but there were none. The ship was jammed with people from room to room. People sleeping on mats. People eating from food canisters. The smell of human exhale was unbearable. The oxygen recyclers must be working on overdrive,Vier surmised. Finally, they settled on one place where they knew they’d get silence and privacy. Their quarters in room 5D, deck 3.
“You’re thinking about that rating in the Beginner’s Luck?” Kahle Willock asked. “The one I told you to abandon?”
Vier nodded. They were sitting in the bottom bunk with their legs dangling, a feet away from each other. Vier realized she hadn’t had a roommate since her posting as a junior lieutenant seventeen years ago.
“Survivor’s guilt.” Kahle nodded. “I bet.”
“I don’t think so,” Vier replied. “And even if it were. How could you say that when you were the one who caused it?”
Kahle gave her a blank look. “Did I? I simply saved
your life.”
“The boy,” she said, as her thoughts refocused on the core of her emotions. “I can see his face. It’s burned into my subconscious. I can see him gasping for air. The blackened skin. His gaze with his remaining eye. To this date, I’ve survived many encounters with death where others around me have not, but never have I felt—no, never have I mourned—in such a passionate regret for leaving someone behind.”
Kahle took it all in. “What is so memorable about this boy that is different from all the others you’ve lost? The scars? His looks?”
“What else could it be? I never knew his name. I’ve never even encountered him before those minutes in the walkway.” Then it her.
Like a rock suddenly falling on her head, she sat there stunned, unable to move, in complete shock. The boy reminded her of her brother twenty, no—twenty-five years ago. She’d been a teenager then, just starting adolescence. She had a brother, a wondrous soul, who always protected her – did things for her – who would go through the world and back to make her happy, and then suddenly he was gone. All his hopes and dreams, all his love and commitment, gone in an instant. She’d blamed herself for his death. She hadn’t done well enough. She hadn’t loved him enough. She hadn’t inserted herself into his life and understood him well enough. She hadn’t tried to find out what was going on in his head before his…
Suicide.
Suddenly, her well of protection broke. All her years of trying to forget, trying to make it feel less, trying to numb herself, suddenly…
You can never let go of the past.
You can just stop giving a shit about it.
Just make yourself immune to the bad feelings it gives you.
She’d said these words over and over a long time ago. “You can…”
She cried — like a little girl with no control of her emotions, no barrier or status or role to protect. Her tears fell off her face onto her ankles and then onto the floor. Her gurgle and moaning tried to burst through the door of her room, but luckily no one beside Willock saw or heard her.
Willock did what any man or woman did, and she supposed she shouldn’t expect anything more from him. He hugged her with his arms, embracing her, his commanding officer reduced to a long forgotten teenage girl, her flag captain, and afterwards…
They kissed.
Regulations be damned.
CHAPTER NINE
January 26th 3987 AD
13th Planetary Rotation, 5061st Solar Cycle of the First Starborn
Clan Mothership Ro’Zur’Gur
Holographic Map Room…
Gor-Eben’s Catlips curved happily. He could not stop smiling.
Gazing at the holo portrayed before him, he could not help but peer over the reports. He wished he had all the time in the world, so he may witness over and over the battle replayed before him in his personal map room. It prickled him with delight, and the pleasure didn’t lessen with each replay.
That a victory of such unparalleled success had occurred…
Yes, it was true. The enemy had run before the ultimate enclosure had been sprung — they had sniffed the trap, but it had been too late. 9/10ths of the enemy’s total weight had been lost. The enemy’s entire sector presence had been smashed. He would have liked to have destroyed the remaining 1/10 but it would have been wishful thinking. To desire perfection above what was given was a fool’s dream, after all. Now, his ships could roam free, could assault any planet within the sector, and take over any civilian population…
It was already perfect.
A hologram appeared before him. It was his assistant, Subcommander Del-Mar. “Your magnificence,” she said, “Subjugator Hal-Dorat’s Usha’Tera has entered communication range. Shall I tell him you are ready?”
“As always.” Gor-Eben nodded. “He is prompt. Display him before me.”
“As you wish, your magnificence.” His assistant’s hologram vanished.
Seconds later, Hal-Dorat’s hologram appeared. The black-haired Cat wore a bright-red uniform with golden shoulder sleeves. His black skin, like space itself, shined in his bridge’s lights.
Marvelous!
The Cat bowed. “Your eminence.”
“Rise, Hal-Dorat.” Gor smiled. “You did well. I am impressed by your complete success.”
“Your eminence is too kind.” Hal-Dorat said, standing up. “I have allowed the enemy to escape. For that, I should be punished.”
“How can I punish you?” Gor gazed into the hologram. “When you have defeated eighty out of every hundred of their ships? Your trap was superb. No Cat can deny that. The enemy has been soundly destroyed by their mere presence on the battlefield. It was your plan that gathered them there.”
“Your eminence is most gracious.”
Gor paused, waiting for the right moment. “Now, Subjugator. Tell me your thoughts and concerns. Surely, you have them? I wish to know what you think about how our invasion should now proceed. It is why I have called you here. What are your thoughts after facing them in battle?”
Hal-Dorat blinked, then nodded, apparent that he had been preparing for this. “There are several concerns, your eminence,” he answered quickly. “The greatest is that although the Pra cannot counter our ships using ships of their own, they have the potential to create much more numbers of smaller weapons that can hurt our ships in Nakra-space, as their limited numbers of these weapons have already demonstrated.”
“What exactly are these weapons?” Gor demanded. “I was not aware they had any advantages.”
“They do not have remotely superior weapons, but they do have the advantage of being a large territory to conquer, thus being able to produce them in high numbers. Although individually, these missiles are less powerful than our own, they have a great deal of time and production assets to create these semi-useful weapons, especially since everything they produce can go immediately into battle, while everything we produce have to travel thousands if not tens of thousands of light-years. They can produce enough and quickly enough to become a factor in slowing our entire conquest. I say slowing, your eminence, because I do not fear their ability to stop our invasion altogether. The same goes for their single-pilot nakra space fighters. Actually, their fighters are even more troubling, as they can destroy our small warships on a higher weight for weight basis.”
“Can these human fighters threaten our main battleships?” Gor asked, his interest peaking.
“They cannot, your eminence. For that, I am thankful.”
“Then what do you believe we should do to make sure our conquest of their territory is not slowed?”
“Actually, we have several options, your eminence.”
“Which are?”
“The most obvious one is to continue our conquest of their territory in a steadfast manner, moving from nearest star system to the next and spreading out in a wave. The more we conquer, the less industrial capacity they will have. In this method, we provide support for our flanks by having them guarded with our fleets equally spread out to prevent severe damage in case they counterattack.”
“And you have a different idea?”
“A proposal, your eminence. The flaw in the previous idea is that we will not be attacking their industrial core any time soon. According to the data we’ve conquered, we know their production core is centralized in their core worlds, which as far as we know is a collection of a hundred systems surrounding their crown world, this capital they call Trantor. In my new proposal, instead of attacking their outer systems slowly and eventually coming close to threaten their core worlds, we would be attacking their core worlds directly. This will invade their production core to a halt, preventing them from creating any new weapons in enough numbers to seriously slow our success. Without these weapons, their outer systems can be subjugated easily.”
Gor pondered about the subject in deep seriousness. “But if we drive deep into their core and bypass their other systems,” Gor-Eben replied. “We will be traveling four to six thousand light years pas
t our initial boundaries of systems we have already conquered. How then, Subjugator, do you expect us to maintain supply lines for our ground troops? Even if we manage to start sending ground Ka onto their nearest core worlds, we will need to replenish our depleted troop transports with fresh Ka. So that we can continue conquering the next core world – but how do you intend to protect our nakra-space troop transports when they have to travel five to six thousand light years back and forth without supply bases in the middle? Without supply bases, it would take too long and the amount of forces we’d need to guard them is too vast. Or, if you intend to establish these supply bases with fresh Ka, how do you intend to protect them from raids and attacks without having their flanks protected as would be in the original plan of invasion?”
“We don’t. We won’t use ground Ka in this method, your eminence.”
“Then…” Gor-Eben’s eyes opened wide. “…You intend to annihilate the surface population of these core worlds?”
“Precisely, you eminence.”
Gor-Eben flinched. His mind quickly began analyzing this new strategy, weighing all his desires and consequences of each decision against each other. Although the idea of bombarding the humans’ industrial centers quickly in a first strike maneuver was tempting, he didn’t like it – not because he cared about the lives of the trillions of alien sophonts, but because of the political and economic repercussions of such an event – as always.
The concept of planetary bombardment and murdering civilians has always been a great stigma to the Ga. What will the Royal Litter do when they found he had murdered trillions of alien civilians just to speed up his conquest in their name? Planetary bombardment was a tentative subject, so much that he has used another clan’s failure to consider the consequences of such a stigma…to gather allies in a war with this opposing clan.
Then there was a second, greater issue…of the prize. If he killed the humans’ core worlds, he would be killing his own industry and resources after he had subjugated this empire – he’ll need these raw resources and skilled sophonts in his war with the Great Prince.