by Neal Jones
McKenna nodded. "Fair enough. Twelve hours, ladies and gentlemen. We've got that long to find an ace somewhere in our sleeves. Dismissed."
Everyone but Doctor Burke stood and left the wardroom. McKenna leaned back, crossing her legs as she exchanged a bemused look with her CMO.
Jo swiveled to face the viewport. "I love this view. Those yard dogs at Pegasus sure know how to design these boats."
"What am I going to do, Jo? We could make it back to the gateway just fine. But getting home means sacrificing those people on the planet, and I can't do that."
It was a couple minutes before Burke responded. "What was it Reyes said? That fighting those drones was just like battling the Haal'Chai raiders?"
"Yeah, that's right."
"So let's see what cards we have on the table so far." Jo held up her right hand and counted the points on her fingers as she made them. "An unidentified alien gateway. An advanced planetary defense network whose drones exhibit the same tactical advantages that the Haal'Chai raiders made. For all we know, we're halfway across the galaxy or maybe even the universe. So how does all that add up?"
McKenna ruminated silently for a few moments. "If the Haal'Chai raiders are equipped with the same technology as what's in those drones, then the Chrisarii must have stumbled on a gateway of their own. If what we've seen thus far is any indication, then it's safe to assume that the civilization which built these gateways had several of them, and inhabited several planets like the one out there." She nodded to the viewport.
Jo swiveled to face her captain, smiling. "Do you think that Commander Garrett and his team from FCE have completely dismantled that raider yet?"
McKenna chuckled softly, as her train of thought finally merged with the doctor's, and she wondered why she hadn't thought of it before. Twelve hours later, with the offnet hot and the deflector screens at full strength, the Dauntless raced back to the planet, and McKenna prayed to Hera to protect those whom she was forced to leave behind.
She wouldn't be gone long.
Chapter 15
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( 1 )
Commodore Gabriel walked into his kitchen, freshly showered and in his dress uniform, and as he poured himself a cup of coffee he glanced at the cupboard above the food processor. After a few minutes, he reached inside for the bottle of Scotch and the tumbler beside it. He filled the bottom of the glass and then stared at it for another five minutes before walking out of the kitchen.
The commodore had actually made an attempt to find out which reporter had hurled the question to him about his alcoholism. But because there were so many questions being shouted at the same time, and because of the number of reporters present, the investigation had yielded no results. Gabriel wondered if he had misinterpreted the question or even if he had heard it at all. He had had no sleep the night before that conference, and he had taken a couple shots of Scotch before leaving his quarters that morning, so it was possible that his guilty conscience had made him imagine the voice which had thrown up that outrageous question.
Gabriel refused to call himself an alcoholic. Anyone who had his job would keep a bottle of something close at hand. The only alternative was to put a pulser to one's temple and press the trigger. As he stepped out of the PTL he squared his shoulders and performed one final tug on the waistband of his uniform. He strode into the wardroom where Ambassador Zar, Major Saveck and a dozen members of the press waited for him. The first two were seated at the head of the table, and the latter group was standing at their customary place on the opposite end. Gabriel and Saveck had hand-picked these twelve, as opposed to the previous two occasions when anyone had been welcome. Both the senior officers felt that this group would be more impartial and less confrontational than some of their peers. Three cameras hovered above the crowd, miniature Cyclopses whose single eyes were focused squarely on Zar, Gabriel and Saveck.
The Chrisarii and the DrayH'M stood as Gabriel joined them, and the murmured buzz among the reporters ceased as all attention became riveted on the station's commander. The commodore checked his compad, reviewing one last time the notes he had written early that morning. He set the pad down and looked at the press.
"In the last four standard months, since this station has come on line, we have witnessed numerous fights among the crew, a double murder, one suicide bombing and, as we speak, there are several protest groups on the promenade."
Lieutenant Jeff Ritano observed the crowd of human civilians who had gathered in front of the Chrisarii cathedral. He and Ensign Coleman had been assigned to patrol this section and keep an eye on the group of protestors. Thus far, the two dozen men and women had their heads bowed and hands folded while Father Everett, the newly inducted reverend of the Holy Church of God's Witness, prayed in a loud voice. Very few of those passing by stopped to listen or pay any attention to the four signs, each containing a quote of scripture, which floated above the acolytes.
* * *
Gabriel cleared his throat. "In the six years that it took to construct Exxar-One, there were numerous setbacks caused by sabotage. There were those who wanted to see this project fail; those who wanted a renewal of the conflict between the Chrisarii and Federation empires; those who were so caught up in their hatred of the enemy and their fear of change that they blinded themselves to the future."
Ritano paused in his walk to listen to Father Everett's prayer. The security officer had been raised as a Lutheran Reformed, one of the many religions that not only embraced homosexuals but also those of other alien species as well. Until now, Jeff hadn't paid much attention to the Church of God's Witness, but as he listened to the prayer, he wasn't surprised by the piousness and condescension in Father Everett's tone, as well as his words.
"Lord God Almighty, we intercede on behalf of Doctor Lom and others like her. Lord, if it be your will, please have forgiveness on these errant souls. They are heathens who deserve compassion and mercy, not judgment and condemnation. If it be your will, Lord God. And for those followers whose lives were lost in this grievous tragedy, we know they have been welcomed into your arms and they are watching us from your right hand."
The reverend continued but Ritano tuned him out. There was no request in all that righteous phrasing to allow the souls of the "heathen Chrisarii" into the eternal kingdom. Or that of the homosexual, Ritano thought sourly. This whole demonstration is nothing but a show, a ploy to draw more sympathy for the church.
"I was one of those people. I still harbor resentment against the Chrisarii. I still mourn the loss of my father and comrades. I didn't want this assignment." Gabriel swallowed before he continued. "Yet we are here. This station was completed on time. The Haal'Chai attacks have ceased. Neither Major Saveck nor I have resigned our commissions. Yes, our obligation to our respective uniforms compels us to carry out our duty, but we could have refused that duty. We could have accepted a court martial and let someone else take a stand here. But we haven't. We are still here!" As he spoke, Gabriel had allowed his tone to rise in volume and intensity, and those final two statements echoed like thunder. "President Enkaro was right, and so was Ambassador Zar when she spoke at the Voriks' funeral. This station is a monument to peace, an example of what we can do when we stand together, united, and stop the senseless fighting which has torn apart our empires and this quadrant."
Less than a minute after Father Everett finished his prayer, the Chrisarii Shil'Ra appeared at the doorway to the cathedral. Behind him was a group of Chrisarii worshipers, all civilians, though Ritano did recognize a couple off duty officers among them. He tapped his commlink.
"Coleman, get over here. We might have a situation."
"On my way."
Ritano watched as the Shil'Ra greeted Father Everett.
"Father, thank you for those kind words and that gracious prayer. This has been a sad time for all of us."
"It has indeed," Everett replied.
Shil'Ra Tosar was a tall man with a wide, angular face and beady eyes that always s
eemed to be probing for something. He reminded Ritano of that creepy, elderly gentleman which lives in one's neighborhood back home, and who's always yelling at the kids to get off his lawn or to stop throwing snowballs at his house.
"Would you like to join me in my office for afternoon tea?" Tosar asked Everett. "I realize that it's a bit early, but I enjoy a good cup of tea about now."
"Perhaps some other time," the Father replied.
"Oh, of course. I can see that you're very busy. Please don't let me interrupt your pious display of false entreaties and proclamations. I wouldn't want to deprive the masses of such a magnificent show."
"Even though our Lord preserves salvation only for his chosen people, I will still pray for you, Shil'Ra. God has always admonished his children to turn the other cheek. To pray for our enemies and love those who would do ill against us."
"Yes, yes, so true," Tosar murmured. "How noble of your lord." He swept his gaze over the small crowd and then beyond to the few passers-by who had stopped to witness what they hoped would be a violent showdown. But Tosar gathered his robe about him as he prepared to re-enter his temple. "Good day, reverend. Please don't continue this much longer. My congregation will be arriving soon for evening prayer."
"Of course, Shil'Ra. I shall finish my sermon quickly."
Tosar vanished from the threshold, and Everett faced his people. Ritano relaxed a little, glancing at Coleman as he walked up. "What took you so long?"
"I was talking to that girl who runs the ice cream kiosk over there. I think she's into me. What did I miss?"
"Not much. Tosar and Everett had a brief conversation." The Father had launched into his sermon, and it was just as condescending and pious as his prayer. Ritano decided he'd had enough. He motioned for Coleman to follow him as he walked towards the crowd. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Father, but I think it's best you and your people move it along. Have this service in the recreation hall which was set aside for your church to meet."
Everett paused in his speech, and the glance that he threw at Ritano wasn't exactly anger, but something close to it. After a moment, the reverend nodded. "As you wish, lieutenant." He turned to his congregation. "We shall resume our service in hall number four. Follow me."
As the crowd dispersed, Ritano allowed himself to relax even further. He had expected resistance on their part, and there was more fire in Everett's eyes than those of his predecessor. But, for now, there was peace once more in this section of the promenade, and the security officer wondered how long it would be before the next incident.
Gabriel paused again, and his eyes burned with new determination and resolve. "I have a message for anyone else on this station who would attempt another bombing, another murder, or some other act of terrorism against us. I will not allow this project to fail. If you decide you want to take hostages, I will not negotiate. If you attempt to force me to declare martial law, I will not give in. I will not punish a whole group because of the actions of one of their individuals. I will not sacrifice the personal rights of my crew and the civilian population just because I believe it necessary as a way of weeding out the traitors among us. We will not hide and cower in fear, wondering where you will strike next. You have failed! We are still here!"
The commodore exhaled, calming himself, as the fervor of his challenge reverberated throughout the room and into the cameras, and the reporters listened as raptly as the members of God's Witness had listened to Father Everett. They took notes on their compads, outlining their commentaries that would accompany the transmission of Gabriel's speech later that evening.
"That concludes my statement. I will now open the floor for a few questions."
A dozen hands shot into the air. Gabriel pointed to Tricia Mayhews, one of the senior reporters for INC.
"Commodore, rumor has it that there will be a memorial service for Doctor Lom. Is this true?"
"No. We" - he motioned to himself, Zar and Saveck – "decided it would be best if there was no service for Lom. Her family on the Chrisarii homeworld has been notified of her death, but as to whether or not they are holding a service of some kind, I don't know. Next question." Gabriel pointed to a Murdohn woman behind Mayhews.
"Commodore, given everything that's happened so far, do you really believe that this statement will have any effect on the current situation?"
Gabriel didn't hesitate. "Yes, I do, Miss Thert, otherwise I wouldn't have said it." This drew a ripple of amusement from the others and the commodore pointed to a Crargha. "Mister Reckz."
"You said that the Haal'Chai attacks have ceased, but can that, in fact, be attributed some action on the part of you and Major Saveck?"
"You're right, it can't. At the same time, though, I take solace in the fact that the Haal'Chai have stayed away as long as they have. I'd like to believe that it's because we captured one of their raiders, and they're afraid that we've already adapted some of our defenses to combat their offense. Also, there's the fact of the Vorik murders as well as the incident caused by Doctor Lom. The objective of the Haal'Chai attacks was to keep all of us off guard in an attempt to derail the treaty and cause the failure of this project. These last two crises have almost done just that, so it's possible that the Haal'Chai are waiting for the current furor to die down before they renew their assault. If that is the case, then we will be prepared. Final question. Mister Mendoza."
"Commodore, is it safe to assume from your statement that you will not, under any circumstances, be declaring martial law? If so, are you sure that that's a good idea? If it's necessary for the protection of the civilian population, shouldn't martial law be considered as a possible defense against - and/or prevention of - these acts of terrorism?"
"Now, that's technically three questions. However, you raise a good point. Yes, you can infer from my statement that I will not, under any circumstances, declare martial law. No, I don't think this is a good idea, but I will not give in to terrorism. We will not give in. Martial law is what the terrorists want, and to be frank, Mister Mendoza, maintaining martial law on a station like this one will be next to impossible. The terrorists know that, and I will not play into their hands. That's all for now. I trust that you will all keep your word and air my entire statement as promised. I want this put on all major feeds."
The group nodded and chorused their assurances as the cameras were turned off and the compads put away. After the last reporter had left, Gabriel sat, unfastening the collar of his uniform, and leaned back. Ambassador Zar walked to the viewport, her expression oddly neutral, and Saveck stood behind a nearby chair, resting his elbows on the headrest. None of them spoke. There was nothing more to say. Nothing to do but wait for the next major incident.
( 2 )
Eril Koden wondered what had upset Jolan this time. He had sent a message to Koden earlier that morning, urgently requesting his presence later that night. Nejra wanted to meet at his home, and the communiqué he'd sent to Eril was an invitation to a game of cards. The pair of senators had created a code that they used in any messages which might be intercepted by unknown parties, or which they had to send over the public commnets. For as long as Koden had known his friend, Jolan had never used this particular emergency code. "A game of Emperor's cards" was a signal that something serious had occurred and/or was about to occur – something which might directly interfere with their carefully laid plans.
Koden's personal hovercar landed in front of Nejra's house, and Eril disembarked, cradling the bottle of charrk wine that was a customary gift to bring when one was invited to a game of Emperor's cards. The senator was greeted at the front door by Nejra's manservant, E'ki, who looked to be the same age as his employer, yet Eril knew that E'ki was old enough to be Jolan's father. He had served the Nejra family for nearly forty years now, and Eril was amazed at the effects which the second generation of genetic enhancement protocol produced in a man of E'ki's age. GEP was relatively new to modern Jha'Drok medical science, having just been developed in the last century, and Eril himself was immen
sely pleased with his results. He would definitely still be alive long after the Federation became one more protectorate of the Jha'Drok Emperium.
Jolan was in his study, standing at the tall, wide window that offered a magnificent view of the night sky. It was clear and full of stars, and the twin moons were arrayed in full glory. Their blue and cream light bathed the capital city in an ethereal glow, and since all the lights had been turned off in Jolan's study, the room was washed in that same glow. He had not heard his friend enter, or, if he did, he chose not to acknowledge his presence. Eril allowed him his few moments of silence, then coughed politely.
Jolan turned, startled, and walked briskly to his desk and tapped a control on his computer's keypad. The lights came up and the curtains closed over the glass panes. "I'm sorry, Eril. I didn't hear you come in."
Eril held out the bottle of wine. "You know how I like to give you your space."
Jolan procured two glasses from the nearby liquor cabinet and poured the wine. He walked around the desk and motioned to the long couch that sat against the far wall. Once they sat, Jolan activated the holo-imager that sat next to his computer's monitor on his desk.
"I received this transmission from one of our beacons near the Ontaar sector."
Eril watched a small, exploratory EarthCorps vessel entered an Erayan hypergate. After a few moments, the time index at the bottom of the 3-D image shifted, and now an EarthCorps starship was parked a short distance from the gateway. It was delta class, and it launched an exploratory craft of its own as well as several hornets. The time index shifted again. Now the starship was entering the vortex. The time index changed one final time. The starship returned, emerging from the gateway's vortex like a missile from a launch tube. It activated its FTL drives and disappeared. The vortex vanished as well, and only the dark, silent form of the Erayan hypergate remained.