by Ryk Brown
Were the images real? Were they from his past? Nathan’s past? Or, were they what his mind feared he would see if he became Nathan Scott?
Connor suddenly realized what he was trying to escape. It wasn’t his past. After all, he had almost no memory of it.
It was his future.
* * *
President Scott sat watching the other members of the Alliance council argue with one another. The meeting had been under way for several hours, and they were no closer to reaching an agreement than they had been at the start. If anything, they were becoming more divided.
He looked at Admiral Galiardi at the opposite end of the table. He, and the two junior officers who stood behind him, were the only ones other than President Scott not actively engaged in a heated debate.
Admiral Galiardi lowered his chin for a moment, his eyes locked on the president’s, as if inviting him to take control of the situation before it escalated out of control.
President Scott sighed. It wasn’t the first time that the leaders of the Sol Alliance worlds were in dispute. It seemed to be a monthly occurrence, which, as of late, became an almost daily one. “Gentlemen,” the president urged. “Gentlemen!”
It did little good. Finally, the president picked up his gavel and started banging it on the table with all his might, continuing to do so until every last one of them was silent. Realizing that he may have taken it a bit far, he calmly placed the gavel on the table, straightened his tie, and began to speak. “This constant bickering is getting us nowhere. Here are the facts. The Pentaurus cluster has fallen to the Jung. The Jung ambassador denies any knowledge of such actions. Jung ships have invaded Alliance space, in blatant violation of the cease-fire agreement. They have attacked our ships. We have defended ourselves, destroying several Jung ships in the process. In retaliation, and as a warning, we have launched a tactical KKV strike, crippling a dozen of the Jung’s key military assets. We estimate the death toll to be in the millions. Mostly military, but not all. Since the strike seven days ago, we have received no official communications from the Jung Empire, despite repeated attempts to open a discussion on recent events. Furthermore, we have not detected any Jung incursions into Alliance space since the KKV strike. However, intelligence indicates that the Jung population is calling for retaliatory strikes against the Alliance.”
President Scott looked at Admiral Galiardi. “Admiral, in your professional opinion, can the Alliance afford to send ships to the Pentaurus sector to deal with the Jung invasion of Alliance worlds in that sector?”
“No, Mister President, we cannot,” Admiral Galiardi replied with absolute conviction. “We do not know the total fleet strength of the Jung, nor do we know the exact positions of their ships. As evidenced by their deep incursions into the Sol sector, it is entirely possible that more of their ships are lying in wait within Alliance space. Until such time that we are certain that Alliance space is clear of Jung ships, we cannot afford to send a single gunboat, let alone larger vessels.”
“And if we do not send ships to the Pentaurus cluster?” the president inquired.
“I’m afraid we must consider the Pentaurus sector, lost.”
“And what does that loss mean to the Alliance?” the minister from the Tau Ceti system asked.
Admiral Galiardi looked to President Scott, realizing that the Tau Ceti minister had spoken out of turn. When President Scott nodded, the admiral continued. “The Pentaurus sector is highly industrialized, and highly advanced. The Jung forces there will multiply quite rapidly.”
“How rapidly?” the president asked.
“As you all know, the Takarans were the only ones with warships in the sector. As well as the Avendahl, which was protecting Corinair. Now that those ships are gone, there is little to prevent them from taking over the entire sector.”
“How long will it take them to capture the Pentaurus sector?”
“Without exact fleet strength numbers, we are only guessing. But I would expect it to take less than a month, if not half that.”
“Is there anything that we can do?” the president wondered.
“At present, nothing. There are still too many unknowns, both in the Sol sector, and the Pentaurus sector. The best we can do is to send equipment, supplies, and weapons, to the Ghatazhak, in the hopes that they may be able to impede the Jung in some way. But sending ships at this time is out of the question.”
President Scott sighed, as several members of the council again began to protest. “Gentlemen!” the president demanded, raising his voice again. “We can spend no more time arguing. The time to vote is now. Do we, or do we not, send ships to the Pentaurus sector?”
* * *
Connor came walking into the galley, looking no more rested than when he had excused himself for the night hours ago. He paused for a moment, surprised to see his entire crew gathered at the table. “Why are you all up?” he asked as he headed for the refrigerator. “You guys have bad dreams, too?”
“Who needs bad dreams when you have real life?” Neli commented.
Connor poured himself a glass of juice. “What is it?” he asked, downing the juice.
“Ybara,” Dalen said quietly. “They wiped it out.”
“What do you mean, wiped it out?” Connor wondered, a puzzled look on his face.
“The Dusahn wiped them all out,” Marcus explained.
“Glassed the entire planet,” Josh added.
“What?” Connor couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “All of them? Women and children…everyone?”
“Nothing left alive,” Neli replied.
“Who are the Dusahn?” Connor asked.
“That’s what the Jung are calling themselves,” Josh explained.
“Wait… Didn’t that guy say something about ‘Lord Dusahn’, when we were rescuing…”
“Yup,” Marcus replied.
Connor still couldn’t believe it. “The entire planet?” he muttered as he sat down next to Neli. “How do you know?”
“The Ghatazhak sent us the feed. The Dusahn have been allowing everyone to broadcast the images,” Josh explained.
“Guess they want everyone to know what happens when you piss them off,” Dalen muttered.
“What did the Ybarans do?” Connor wondered.
“Apparently, they refused to show respect for Lord Dusahn,” Marcus added. “Not too surprising, for Ybarans.”
Connor suddenly felt the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. Without a word, he rose and left the room, heading aft.
“Captain,” Josh called after him, rising from his seat to follow.
“Let’m go,” Marcus insisted. “I suspect he’s got some thinkin’ to do.”
* * *
The door to the holding room opened, and a Dusahn officer walked in. He paused to look at the two women sitting at the table before him, appearing unimpressed, and wholly disinterested in his task. “You are Isa Gullen, wife of Edom Gullen, captain of the Glendanon. Is this correct?”
Isa looked at her daughter, unsure if she should answer.
“Please answer the question,” the officer said impatiently, seeming irritated.
“Yes, I am Isa Gullen. What do you want from us?”
“I am the one asking the questions,” the officer corrected. “And you are Sori Gullen, daughter of Edom?”
“You know that I am,” Sori replied, a touch of rebellion in her voice.
“Very good.” The officer placed his data pad on the table in front of him. “You are being recorded. This recording shall be transmitted throughout the Pentaurus sector, so that Captain Gullen will see it.”
“Why are you doing this?” Sori demanded. “We have done nothing to you.”
“No, but your father has refused to comply with a general order from Lord Dusahn
.”
“What order?” Sori demanded.
“Lord Dusahn has ordered that all jump-capable ships immediately report to their homeworld, so they can be fitted for compliance.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It is quite simple, young lady. Your father is to turn the Glendanon over to us, without further delay.”
“Or what?” Sori asked, fearing the officer’s response.
“Or you shall both be executed,” the officer replied without the slightest hint of emotion. The officer turned to face the camera on the other side of the window behind him. “Captain Gullen, you have ten days to comply, or your wife and daughter shall pay for your crimes.”
* * *
Jessica climbed out of the vehicle as it pulled to a stop in front of the Ghatazhak hangar at the Lawrence spaceport. She paused for a moment, watching as three boxcars touched down a few hundred meters away. Once they landed and their engines began to wind down, she continued on to General Telles, who was standing near the door to the Ghatazhak flight operations office. “Where did you get the extra boxcars?” she asked, yelling to be heard over the whine of the engines.
General Telles pointed to the nearest boxcar. “Lorrel contacted us a few hours ago. Through him, we found Penski and Oresto.”
“I’m surprised they haven’t turned their ships over to the Dusahn,” Jessica said, her volume returning back to normal now that the three boxcars had shut down their engines.
“Many have,” the general said. “However, the life of a boxcar crew and that of a family man are not a good match.”
“How did you convince them to help us?”
General Telles handed Jessica the data pad he had tucked under his left arm. “I showed them this.”
Jessica read the communiqué on the data pad, her eyes widening. “So, we’re on our own, then,” she concluded, handing the data pad back to General Telles.
“Quite possibly for some time,” the general said. “They have promised to send equipment and supplies, but that may take weeks to arrive, by which time we will not be here.”
“What are your plans?” Jessica asked.
“We are not prepared to fight the Dusahn. For now, we must concentrate on surviving, and building up our capabilities.” He looked at Jessica. “Have you spoken with him since your return from Corinair?”
“Yes, more than once. He is still undecided.”
“It will be far more difficult without him,” the general reminded her.
“I know,” Jessica replied. “Believe me, I have done all that I can. It is still his decision, however.”
“Yes, it is.” General Telles looked back at the boxcars. “See that the schedule is changed to utilize the three new boxcars,” he ordered. “Then bring Captain Tuplo to my office. It is time for him to make his decision.”
* * *
General Hesson’s aide met him in the corridor on the way to see Lord Dusahn.
“His mood?” the general asked his aide.
“He was pleased with the annihilation of the Ybarans.”
“Has he shown any indication of easing on his timeline?”
“According to my sources, he has not.”
The general’s eyebrow shot up for a moment. “As I expected,” he muttered, as he stepped up to the entrance to Lord Dusahn’s office. He pressed his hand against the scanner pad next to the door, and a moment later, it opened.
“General,” Lord Dusahn greeted, in his usual terse manner.
“The families of the missing jump ships are being detained as ordered, my lord. As of this morning, twenty-seven ships have surrendered.”
“Out of eighty-seven,” Lord Dusahn said to himself. “Not exactly an enthusiastic response, I’d say.” Lord Dusahn picked up his mug, taking a long sip of his hot beverage.
“Perhaps we should give them a bit more incentive,” the general suggested.
“Such as?” Lord Dusahn wondered.
“Execute a few of their families, perhaps?”
“That might have the opposite effect,” Lord Dusahn warned. “They were promised six days, and it has only been one. Many of the ships may not have even received the message, as of yet.”
“Fear, is an excellent motivator,” General Hesson stated.
“Fear has already been provided,” Lord Dusahn replied. “Trust is what we must now earn. We must show them that while disobedience shall not be tolerated, loyalty, on the other hand, shall be rewarded.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Lord Dusahn glanced at the digital display on the wall of his office, studying the map of the Pentaurus cluster, and the positions of his forces. “Any word on the jump ships that briefly visited the Darvano system?”
“The ship that aided the escape of the Avendahl’s remaining fighters, the Glendanon, is still at large.”
“You have not been able to locate her?”
“Not yet, my lord. Her captain is no fool. He spends little time resting between jumps, in an effort to stay one jump ahead of his pursuers.”
“Then, he knows he is being followed.”
“He suspects,” General Hesson corrected. “But he cannot maintain such frequent jumps forever. Eventually, he must pause to recharge his energy banks. When he does, we will find him.”
“I would prefer that ship intact,” Lord Dusahn reminded him. “She is a sizable asset.”
“I understand.”
“And the other ships?”
“One has been located. The other has not. We are preparing to move on the first, by the end of the day.”
“I trust you will deal with them,” Lord Dusahn said.
“We will send what forces we can, my lord,” General Hesson promised. “However, our forces are spread more thinly than we would prefer. Perhaps, it would be best to wait until our dominance is more assured. After all, the target lies well outside this sector, and is unlikely to be a threat.”
“If they have a jump drive, they are a threat,” Lord Dusahn corrected, annoyed by the general’s disagreement. “Maximum force.”
“My lord,” General Hesson pleaded.
“We must show these people that the Dusahn do not tolerate any disobedience. Directly or indirectly.” He paused a moment, pondering the general’s concerns. “You may use my personal legion,” he finally said.
“The Zen-Anor, my lord?” the general replied, surprised by Lord Dusahn’s decision.
“If anyone can strike fear in the hearts of men…” A sinister smile began to form on his face. “Besides, it will be a good training exercise for them.”
* * *
Connor Tuplo walked down the Seiiki’s cargo ramp and out onto the tarmac. He paused to take in the fresh night air of Burgess. Unlike most of the worlds the Seiiki regularly visited, the spaceport at Lawrence was more open. No sound suppression walls, no boarding tunnels, no underground facilities. Everything was on the surface, with far more room between its few buildings than necessary. It was as if its builders had felt that a need for expansion was yet to come.
Connor had done a little research during his brief stay on Burgess, if for no other reason than to distract himself from the decision he was about to make. At one hundred and nine light years from Takara, the Sherma system was well outside the Pentaurus sector. It had been settled during the rise of the Ta’Akar Empire under the reign of Caius. At the time of settlement, linear FTL was the only means of interstellar travel, thus its location kept it clear of Takaran influence. In fact, at the time, the closest non-Takaran inhabited world was at least a fifteen year journey. This had been exactly what its founders had wanted. To be removed from all external societal influences and restraints. To have the freedom to live as they saw fit.
Human interstellar history was reple
te with such dreams. To leave the world one did not like behind, to start over elsewhere. Dreams of utopia always seemed to plague humanity, despite the fact that such societies never came to be. They always demanded more compromise than humans were willing to give, and perfection could not be achieved by imperfect creatures.
However, the world of Burgess seemed as close as Connor could imagine a utopia to be. It lacked the technological sophistication of the more developed and heavily populated worlds, but that seemed to be its strength. The lack of complexity resulted in a more relaxed lifestyle, one where people took the time to enjoy the simple things, rather than trying to accomplish a week’s worth of work in a single day.
But like all things, Burgess was beginning to fall to the lure of progress. The design of the spaceport was evidence of that. The introduction of jump drive technology nine years ago had found its way to the Sherma system only a few years later, and it provided an opportunity that its citizens could not refuse. The result was the expansion of a simple airfield designed for local shuttle operations, to one that could accommodate ships such as the Seiiki, and larger, on a regular basis. The demand had not yet come to fruition, but its use had grown with each passing year.
Connor found it ironic, the parallel between his own desire to avoid a monumental change that had been put before him, and the desire of many of the Burgeans to keep their simple way of life intact. Especially, since it had been Nathan Scott—the man from which Connor had been cloned, and whose memories were locked up inside him—who had placed the specter of change in front of them.
You’re thinking too much, again.
Connor sighed and cleared his mind. All around him, the Ghatazhak flight ops ramp was bustling with activity. There were now three boxcars being loaded, instead of the usual one that Connor had seen before. In addition, two rather ancient Palean deep space interceptors, both of which had been heavily modified, were in the process of refueling. It was by far the busiest Connor had seen the Ghatazhak ramp since his arrival a few days ago.