by Trevor Wyatt
“Studying with old Chinese adepts,” he says. “Daoist priests. They're still around, if you can find them. Centuries of chi theory and practice, those guys. They study many of the same things you probably do. They taught me well.”
“Yeah, I've heard stories from the captain about you and those nanite guys going at it. Did you beat them?”
His turn to smile. “They're pretty tough to beat,” he says evasively. “You're tougher. I could barely touch you.” He pats me on the shoulder. “It's good to have you on our side.”
I nod in appreciation. I start to respond, falter a bit. He notices.
“You okay, Sheila?”
I shake my head dismissively. “I—I don't know.” I answer truthfully.
He's instantly concerned. “What's wrong?” he asks softly.
I look at him, hesitate, and then finally say, “It's my prescience, I think.”
He just looks at me, waiting.
“There's a problem,” I croak. “It's coming.”
He looks at me funny. “It's coming? What's coming?”
“I don't know. That's the problem.”
He just watches me as I walk out of the gym.
Sheila
It's been a long flight.
And now we're here, or nearly so. Captain Gibraltar has stopped the fleet half a light out from where the Mariner was last known to be, just outside the Anderson Nebula, which the government is officially renaming the Mariner Nebula. He's called me and Drake into his office, along with Tactical Officer Reinhardt Shultz and Engineering Officer Rob Schneider.
It will be our last meeting before proceeding to our final destination.
The mood is grim. Everyone knows this could be a very bad situation. No one truly knows it will be, but the possibility is real, based upon Captain Jeryl Montgomery's report. The Sonali are an unknown, but a possibly hostile unknown.
“I just want to make sure that everyone knows the gravity of the situation,” he says. “We don't know if the Sonali have a presence near the nebula. There could be stations, fleets, we don’t know. But what we do know is that if the Sonali are there, we'll deal with them. And that's it, in a nutshell.”
He looked at us all, one by one. “Any questions?”
There weren't any. “All right, then, let's get back to our stations.”
Back on the CNC, Corson gives directions to the helmsman. “Lieutenant Cooper, drop us into FTL 2 and bring us out two hundred and fifty miles from the Mariner's position.”
The field takes hold of the ship and we are wrenched forward into the night. Only briefly, though, and we exit the faster than light and hang in space. Off the starboard flank, the nebula shines in polychromatic splendor. The rest of space is ablaze with suns.
“Commander Fornis, based on the information from The Seeker, are you picking up the debris of the Mariner?” asks the captain.
“Yes, Sir,” I reply. “It's there, two hundred and fifty miles ahead.”
“Very good. Helmsman, give us forward thrust. Ease us in slowly.”
“Captain,” I say. “There's something else, too, Sir.”
He looks at me. “What is it, Science?”
I look back at him. “There's another ship in the area of the debris field of Mariner, Sir. It's of unknown configuration. And it's big, Sir. Very Big.”
He considers for a moment. The tension on the CNC is as thick and heavy as lead.
“Proceed, Helm,” he orders. “Steady as she goes. And give me a visual.”
A ship appears on the forward screen. It's enormous. It bristles with visible weapons ports. And, according to Jeryl Montgomery's description, it is Sonali.
“Bring us to one thousand yards of the ship, Helm,” says the captain. “Then full stop.”
“Almost there, Captain,” says Lieutenant Cooper. “At one thousand yards, Sir. Full stop.”
We can see the gigantic Sonali ship on the screen, dwarfing us. It just hangs there. We can see port lights, running lights, miscellaneous others. Otherwise, there are no other signs of life or movement.
“Science, what can you tell me about that ship?” asks the captain quietly.
“Sir, it's larger than our carrier. Almost as large as two heavy cruisers, sir. Weapons capability unknown. But formidable, certainly.”
Corson seems to sigh, then says, “Okay, then. Science, we may as well hail them using the signaling protocol they used with The Seeker.”
“No need, Sir. They're hailing us.”
“Bring it up.”
And there it is on the screen. A Sonali. Skin tinged of blue, slits for eyes and ears, and humanoid.
For a moment, he just looks at us, saying nothing.
Then, “I am Legate Lonen of the Sonali Combine. You are intruding in restricted Sonali space. Identify yourself immediately and state your business here.”
Corson stares back without speaking. Then he replies, “I am Captain Corson Gibraltar of the Terran Union starship Celestia. We are here to recover the remains of a Terran Union exploratory ship and bring it back to our home world for analysis. We come in peace and have no hostile intentions.”
The Sonali appears to sneer, if I can anthropomorphize for an instant, then responds.
“In peace? And yet you come in a fleet of warships? That hardly seems non-hostile, Captain.”
“Based upon our last contact, we were unsure of what to expect. We are also far from home, and space is vast, as you well know. One is never sure of what may be encountered.”
“As Legate Ghosal told your Captain Jeryl Montgomery at that time, the Sonali had nothing to do with your exploratory vessel,” he says lightly. And then he turns grim, saying, “And, to repeat what your captain was told, I am telling you the same: Leave this sector immediately, or you and your ships will be destroyed.”
Corson responded immediately. “With all due respect, Legate, we cannot do that. We are under orders to retrieve Terran Union property, and any deceased on board, and return it to Terran space. I hope you can understand our position.”
The Sonali is equally immediate. “I understand your position quite well, Captain,” and his slits narrows. “You have invaded Sonali space without authorization. You refuse a direct order of compliance to vacate said space. And you are disguising your obvious military intentions beneath a thin facade of peace. You leave me no choice. Good-bye, Captain Gibraltar. May you and your soul rest in peace.”
Then he is gone, and chaos erupts.
“Captain,” I yelp, “the Sonali ship has erected its force fields and its weapons are charging!”
“Defense shields up!” barks Corson. “Red alert! All weapons activate!”
Klaxons blare. The CNC is a-scramble. And the comms go crazy.
On the main screen, several of the ships are hit all at once with a horrifying burst of energy. Plumes of smoke and liquid metal plunge outward.
“Maverick, Iris, Griffin, Mercury, Santa Maria, H.R Wells and Wesley sustained direct hit!” I yell. “Their comms are down!”
“Return fire!” yells Corson. “All ships and all weapons! Fire at will!”
On the screen, the Sonali ship is lit up with inward-tracing fire from the fleet. Coruscating destruction splashes against their fields. But little appears to get through. The Sonali continues to fire.
The Celestia lurches, a gigantic shudder. Our comms continue to scream.
“Impact on our starboard side! Hull breech on decks five and six!”
“Four ships are firing but their shields are down! Destruction imminent!”
Captain Gibraltar stares at the screen in silent fury. He is maintaining composure under fire with amazing solidity.
“Attention, squadron. Launch all Harpies! Attack Sonali ship from all quarters! Celestia will be taking evasive action!”
We feel a shudder as our squadron of Harpies emerges and engages the Sonali. They are encircling the ship like mosquitoes. Their weapons stab and sting at the alien's shields, with little or no effect.
“Stay close, go for the life support systems!” says another.
“Going in! Opening lasers to full—” and he is gone.
Space is exploding all around us.
And then, we see it—all at once, the Sonali ship fires full force on several of our ships, dissolving them to nothing.
“Captain! Maverick, Iris, Griffin, Mercury, Santa Maria, H.R Wells and Wesley are gone! The Aurora, Magus, Lysander is taking fire, she's hit and listing bad!”
“All batteries target the Sonali life support now!” commands Corson. “Concentrated fire!” Energy flows from our ship, only to be absorbed by the Sonali's fields.
The Celestia lurches again. A sickening groan permeates the ship. CNC lights dim, then return.
“Reserve power to CNC!” orders Corson. The lights steady, but hell is happening outside. The Maverick and several other ships are reduced to nothingness. The Celestia, Aurora, Hornet, Magus, Lysander, York and Lexington continue to take hits. There is no respite in sight.
Then one of the Harpy pilot's voice chimes through the din. “I've got an idea! Red Four and Five converge on me! We're going in! Use our missiles. Beam weapons can't faze their fields! Let's see what missiles do!”
Amidst the chaos, part of my mind catalogs the Harpy missile's warhead: dense, highly active chemical concoctions capable of obliterating a small town. Wordlessly, I watch the main screen and see three Harpies launch volleys of missiles …
And they penetrate the Sonali ship's skin! They're through the fields and tearing holes in the armor. Glorious in their destruction.
“This is Lieutenant Maris on Harpy Sixteen! The missiles work! All Harpies, use missiles in conjunction with your beam weapons! Target weapons and life support pods in groups!”
A ragged cheer erupts on the CNC. But he’ll still abides outside.
We watch the Sonali ship, besieged by Harpies, continue towards the Aurora and the other ships near it. The Sonali is taking damage, but it's slight, owing to its size. The Celestia continues to take evasive actions.
And then, the Sonali ship does it again. All at once, it blasts with all batteries on the Aurora and the starships near it…and those mighty ships are turned into its component atoms. All that's left is a colored mist in space.
“All batteries fire on the Sonali at the points where the Harpies are hurting it!” yells Captain Corson. “Harpies, how goes your missile supply?”
The response is quick. “Captain, our missiles are almost depleted. We're opening all the holes we can, but they're starting to pick us off now!”
Then, from other Harpies:
“I'm out! Taking fire—”
“Last four birds away! That hole's getting bigger! Oh, shit—”
“Captain, Harpy missiles gone! Fuck! Return to ship?”
“Affirmative! All Harpies return to roost! Tactical, concentrate all weapons on the largest breeches in that Sonali armor! Do it now!”
We watch the screen as the Harpies return. The Celestia continues to pour death into the Sonali ship's broken armor. But most of that power is absorbed by its fields. Even though the alien ship's power is declining, it's still considerable.
We feel another hit on the ship, and it wrenches violently.
“Squadron!” yells Corson. “Are all Harpies aboard?”
“Affirmative, Captain!” from Tactical.
“Science, status of our fields?” he demands.
I give him the news. “Captain, one or two more hits, at most, and we're done.”
I watch him make an instant command decision.
“Any sign of survivors from the other ships?” His eyes are alight.
I yearn to give him hope, but must give him truth instead. “None, Sir.”
“Helm, plot a course for Edoris Station. FTL 5. Apply on my mark.”
“Aye, Sir,” comes from Helm.
“Tactical,” says the Captain, “target the biggest hole in that Sonali bastard's hide.”
“Targeted, Sir.”
“Ready all remaining beam energy and focus it there. Fire on my order.”
“Ready, Captain.”
“Fire,” says Corson, in a steely voice.
On the screen, hellish energies collude in destruction against the Sonali ship's underbelly. For once, that ship lurches as the hole in its armor widens. But still, it keeps coming.
Corson takes one last look at the screen, and murmurs, “We'll see you again, you son of a bitch. We'll see you again someday.”
Then he turns to the helm. “Get us out of here, Lieutenant Cooper. Apply.”
And we're gone.
I'm in one of the lounges with Corson. View screens line the walls and let in the endless panoply of stars and night. It's just the two of us. He had called me in to go over some aspects of the report he was going to give to Admiral Flynn. He wanted a scientific correlation of energy ratios concerning the Sonali ship's evident force field strength and its ability to generate such a high degree of power to its weapons systems. He was looking for anything of import that he could pass on to the Union. He was also looking for some redeeming morsel that he could point to that would somehow ameliorate the horrifying disaster we had just suffered—the loss of so many good lives, the defeat by a superior military force, and the horrifying implications of what would probably follow.
Repairs are being made, slowly, while we are en route to Edoris Station. Those with injuries are being treated in sick bay; the dead rest in cryo awaiting disembarkation at home; and we are searching for some answers. Any answers would do.
“We did discover one Sonali Achilles Heel,” I offer.
He looks up. Overwhelming weariness shows in his eyes, mute testimony to the burden he is shouldering as Captain of the Celestia.
“The Harpies,” I elaborate. “How they discovered that the Sonali shields don't work against explosive chemical munitions. Rather fortuitous, I would say. And I'm sure it'll be useful in the eyes of the Armada.”
“If we'd only had bigger ones,” he comments, “and about a thousand of them. They might have made a difference.” He looks around, idly. “But I don't know. I really don't know.”
The gloom is palpable. It's easy to know why. I don't think there's anyone aboard who hasn't contemplated what the future may hold. It's especially clear to me, damn that Rhine perception. I'm trying my damnedest to remain at least somewhat optimistic, but I fear it's a losing battle. Another losing battle. And I don't know quite how to handle it. I just know that, somehow, I must.
The silence deepens between us, thickening toward despair.
Finally, Corson rouses himself. “I have to put a slipstream call into Admiral Flynn,” he says. His voice sounds like death. “You and Drake continue handling repairs. Assign teams in designating the most crucial areas, please. I'll be here if you need me.”
I expect him to get up and go to his office, but he doesn't. He remains sitting, as if he's not sure where to go. Or what to do. My heart is breaking for him.
“Corson,” I say. “What will we do? Is it over? Is this the end?”
“No, it's not the end,” he says softly. “I can only wish it were. I might be able to live with that.”
I look at him, at his pain. “What do you mean?” I murmur.
He looks out at the stars, then back at me in sorrow. “It's only the beginning.”
I stare mutely at his anguish, then look out into the infinitude of space and its inescapable destiny. Until everything wells up in my eyes and runs down my face.
The Pax Aeterna Universe
Pax Aeterna is the name of the science fiction universe created by Trevor Wyatt. It explores humanity as it explores and grows in its journey into the stars, taking its place amongst other species in the universe. The series features around human conflicts, internal as well as those external.
Included you will find a full length novel and two short stories that
explore more of the Pax Aeterna universe.
•The Seeker - The events of the Earth-Sonali War from the perspective of the crew of TUS The Seeker
•The Mariner - It was a routine investigation. Stellar phenomena. Nothing major. A blip on the road to shore leave. Except the crew of The Mariner never expected to find what they encountered...In space. Or with each other.
•Phantom - A simple smuggling job gets way more complicated when they are boarded by an Armada cruiser and given a choice. Carry out a mission for the Terran Union, or rot in jail.