We’d fought the better part of a day and a half. We’d grounded both of our ships through precise strikes, hoping to capture each other alive. The planet had low gravity and sharp rocks, so I’d ordered my surviving troops into the cumbersome gear after we‘d crashed. I’d carefully set up the perimeter and strategy, but despaired as we lost one woman for every alien we took out.
There was no hope of rescue for me now. My soldiers lay dead around me. Who knew how long the main battle above this planet would go on. Who knew who would win and arrive unannounced.
I wanted them to swoop in and save the day. To heal my wounds and fix my broken arm. Was I bleeding? I wasn’t sure, but I sure wanted to stand up because these suits were never meant to be horizontal.
But right now it was down to just the two of us and I knew this alien I faced had to be at the edge of physical endurance as well. If I closed my eyes for more than the space of a blink, I would pass out. So I stared at the figure before me. Anything to keep my edge.
The Gullagh appeared to be female like me. I felt mild surprise at the realization. Her green, leaf-patterned skin was beautiful this close up. I had spent my five years in space battles and had never been this close to one before.
Videos didn’t do justice to the lovely twists of fine tentacles around her face that mimicked hair. Her wide golden eyes examined me with the same curiosity. I’m sure she cataloged my short brown hair and brown eyes against the other variety of humans she had seen and killed in her lifetime.
The battle between our two species had lasted decades. Seventy-five percent of the human male population had died defending the solar systems we’d inhabited. Now the bulk of the soldiers who fought on were women. And perhaps it was the same for her too. Both ready to fight to the death to save our species.
I struggled to focus, unwilling to give into the exhaustion that ate at my mind, whispering for me to sleep. I desperately wanted to let go, but knew it would be my last rest if I did. What had the original battle been about?
Was it something about an ill-mannered response to a question that had started all this? History said it had been bad translators between our two races. Was it the accusation of our lack of compassion as we colonized other planets? The fuzzy recollections eluded me, my mind tumbled into confusion.
Focus. Focus. I reminded myself over and over. My new mantra as I inspected her and our surroundings. I could see that she had several human technology solar cells tacked onto her suit. How clever of the Gullagh to take advantage of our technology so that she too would be “up and running” when dawn broke over our prone figures. Moving toward me to finish the job if my own weren’t able to beat her technology. We had a whole night to find out which suit’s self-repair programs were better. Could the nano-techs working to solder microscopic circuits in my suit beat out whatever repaired hers? Was the cold I felt an infinitesimal leak or tissue dying from blood loss?
My fatigued mind slipped sideways. Did I care anymore? The thought shocked me like a small jolt of electricity. How could I not care? These beautiful beings had killed billions, cleaning us off of planets like fleas off a dog. I stared at her again, willing hatred to well up inside of me like the academy training videos had.
But I had been a slightly unwilling soldier. Even now my face burned in shame at the thought. Yet I’d always been dedicated to the cause and took my commission with pride and followed every order. I have always believed the human race well worth saving, so I had fought, always secretly hoping this war would end in my lifetime.
That tiny, niggling bit of disgust and doubt over all those I had killed never quite stayed buried in my subconscious like I told it to though. Now I was dying, trapped in this blasted suit, unable to find any comfort.
Tears rolled down my cheek and I blinked my eyes shut a little too long. The world spun, turned black, and I slipped into the oblivion of sleep.
I was suffocating in my dreams. My mind latched onto the urgency of waking and I surged through the layers of exhaustion that had clamped onto me like leeches. My muscles quivered with pain. The agony of my body reprimanding me as all my actions that had been beyond its ability came into sharp focus. Swollen and battle-damaged tissue pressed into the heavy suit surrounding me. Thirst gnawed at my throat like an animal.
I forced my unwilling eyes open. The grit of dried sweat and tears compounded my discomfort as my muscles screamed in disobedience when my arm tried to automatically reach up to clear them despite the suit. The suit was too heavy to move without the computerized servos.
I drew a calming breath and relaxed, focusing my attention on the slice of black sky and stars within my field of vision. No point in doing anything but rest and let my nanos work. The tiny cracks in the visor connected the stars like a necklace of diamonds. In my peripheral vision, I could see that she gazed at them too, then looked back at me.
I jerked when she spoke. The confusion of exhaustion tangled with the realization that parts of our suits worked. She had external speakers and I now had translators. Was she really pinned down by its weight or did she have plans for me? I focused on her words.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” I croaked in response. My throat dry and unwilling to do more. The sound of my own external speakers sparked a small hope in my breast.
“I’m Commander Jualla.” The translators made her voice sound like liquid music.
“Commander Guinevere.” Human language was clearly not as melodic as the Gullagh’s. I turned my head to face her square on, wishing I could adjust my body for better blood flow in my limbs. I didn’t want to think about how many parts I could no longer feel.
“I’m sorry about your ship and your people.” The words were out of my mouth before my brain could censor them. I closed my eyes as if I could take the words back with that action. How could I be sorry for killing those who had killed so many? My crew. My friends.
More tears spilled between my lashes and a sob ripped through my chest, up and out of my mouth. I wept and it wracked my body, involuntary and painful. Snot ran down my upper lip mixing with the tears that flowed down my face. I squirmed in my suit, seeking release from my prison, only awakening the fire of broken bones.
The grinding of metal on stone snapped my mind back into focus. My finely honed fighting instinct screamed for me to stand and face her. But I could not, locked in this metal cage. My gaze focused on her, seeing that she had only been able to shift her weight before the red status lights flicked on inside her visor.
Gulping, I calmed my breathing to restore my focus. I had not wept like that since I was a child and it embarrassed me at this age. How could I break down so easily? Then I realized that exhaustion is a wicked second foe on this battlefield. Anyone could be affected by it. I was okay. My focus was restored.
Jualla smiled at me. The Gullagh physiology was much like human. Cosmic odds should have been against that, but there it was.
“I am sorry for your losses as well.” Her golden eyes deepened to a copper tint.
Military Intelligence had learned that color change was a manifestation of sincerity.
I smiled and thought about the odds stacked against both of us here fighting our female instinct to nurture rather than fight and found it even more outrageous. Women soldiers had to overcome our compassionate tendencies, the Psych Officers had told my class of female fighters. Save the human race. Defend your kind. Pull up that maternal instinct and twist it to help us survive.
“Why do you fight?” I asked her.
“Because you do.”
I let my weary brain digest this and watched a pale glow start on the horizon behind her back. I so wanted to sink into a soft warm bed and sleep and not think of what might happen to me beyond that sunrise.
Did I want it all to end or just my own misery of fighting? Fighting myself and the Gullagh. Or was it just the exhaustion speaking again?
The soft roar of distant engines crept up behind me on the edges of my consciousness.
Another shot of adrenalin spiked through my system. I could not turn and see who approached. Her eyes tracked the ship thundering down, the vibrations shook my suit, shooting daggers of pain through my injuries.
The status lights inside my visor flickered to life in the thin rays of the false dawn. She shifted up onto one arm, stretching inside her suit like a cat waking up from a nap.
Panic pinched my throat closed. The outline of the ship reflected on her visor was unmistakably Gullagh. My muscles seized and I lurched in my recharged technology, the suit’s servos whining with the effort in the breaking dawn.
Jualla watched me with confident curiosity. Her cavalry had arrived and here I was with nowhere to go.
She waited to see my reaction. What would I chose to do? A quick lunge to pin her down and crush her, only to be hunted down by those on the ship? Or would I surrender and become the next prisoner of war, interrogated and told to sign the peace treaty like all those who had been captured before me? What kind of captive would I be?
I sat and let the pins and needles stab my arms and legs as feeling returned. She waited and watched. Her eyes bright copper now as the reflection of the ship’s doors opened and the troops marched down the ramp.
The numbness in my mind grew. Deep down inside, I only wanted to sleep. To be home on my porch with a cool breeze blowing the trees and the scent of pine in the air. Was that so much to ask, so far from home on what could be my last day of life? I didn’t think so. Yet there it was.
She talked on her comm to her newly arrived troops. Jualla’s demeanor did not change. I had a few more minutes to choose the actions of the last few moments of my life and she respected that.
“Am I to be tortured?” I asked.
“No. Never,” was her instant response.
“Will I be asked to sign that peace treaty like all the others?”
“Yes. It is your choice. You will speak for your race,” she replied. She held out a hand. Was this an offer to help me up or to accept such a peace?
I gnashed my teeth in frustration. “I’m a battleship commander, not a Council member. I have no authority. My signature isn’t worth a thing since I have no power. Don’t you realize that what I do doesn’t matter?” Fresh tears threatened to spill down my cheeks.
“Every person matters.” Her logic was like a sledgehammer on my brain. Every message that they had sent to the Council for decades was simple. “Show us some compassion and we will do the same and show you peace.”
My world, no, my belief system crashed down around me. Decades old puzzle pieces clicked into place. We humans had been given this message on every planet they obliterated us from.
The Gullagh had shown us the same mercy that we had shown to every native species we didn’t like or find useful on those planets. We colonized whichever planet we liked and stripped others for their resources. No compassion. No peace for those that lived there before us.
They would stop if we would stop. Every person mattered. I mattered. I could stop the fighting. And they would stop fighting. There would be an ending. How splendidly simple.
M.O.V.E.
Jennifer Brozek
Senior Cadet Natara Kintares looked out the Space Station Command and Control window and saw her future. The view was filled with military vessels of all types coming and going from Space Station Killingsworth. Her future probably did not involve this particular space station but it was a possibility. As a graduating military cadet, these Military Observation Visit Experiences—or MOVEs—were designed to give the student a taste of what was to come. Natara could not be happier. Ever since she was a little girl, she wanted to join the Guard and to work in space.
“Cadet, look at this screen and tell me what you see.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, paused and then restated her response, “I mean, ‘yes, Guardsman Harber.’”
The middle-aged man gave her a severe look softened by the twinkle in his eyes. “What’s wrong with this situation?”
Natara studied the monitor. “You’re gonna have a jam in Port Alpha-3. The two Explorer class ships are too big to be rubbing hulls in there.”
“Good. How would you fix it?”
“Shift the IIS Lifeline to Port Charlie-2 and shift the two smaller scout vessels to Alpha-3.”
“Good. Anything else?”
Natara thought about it and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“That plan will work fine but there’s one more thing to do—give everyone an extra five minutes lag to allow the switch and trajectory calculations. It’ll take a bit more time and some will grouse but the extra fifteen minutes isn’t going kill anyone. Just because you shift things on the computer doesn’t mean they shift automatically. The pilots of these ships are human with human foibles.”
“Yes, Guardsman.”
Harber was about to say something else but the sudden influx of ship signals detected on the edge of one of his screens made him pause. A moment later, he said, “You’re dismissed, Cadet. Go to your quarters.” He turned from her without waiting for an answer and hit a series of buttons on his console. As she left, knowing that a large fleet of ships was suddenly descending upon the space station, the first battle alarms sounded in the corridors.
Instead of returning to her quarters, Natara stood in one of the viewing rooms on the observation ring, watching the orderly dance of large military supply ships being shunted to one side while the space station all but vomited its short-range fighters to set up a protection grid between the advancing armada and the strategically placed military base. She sighed as the observation ring rotated away from the ports she had been watching and showed the next quarter of the station. She turned to hurry to the next observation room and almost ran into Soolee.
“I knew you’d be here. Are we gonna be all right?” her bunkmate, and the only other female cadet on this MOVE, asked.
Natara shrugged, ignoring the implied disregard of orders—admittedly, something she was known for, “I don’t know. I think it’s the Epiets. I got kicked out of CnC before I could get a good look at the ships’ silhouettes. But I’m pretty sure it was them.”
“Why are they attacking?”
Natara shook her head, “Don’t know. Maybe because this is a strategic station on the border between their space and ours? Not sure. I do know if they take the station, there’ll be trouble. It breaks the treaty the Council of Primes ratified.” She paused, “You’ve got dirt on your face.”
Soolee rubbed at her nose, smearing the dirt rather than cleaning it up. “That’s what you get when you crawl around the hydroponics gardens. Dirty. My MOVE has been all about ‘move this’ and ‘move that.’”
“Lucky you. Mine’s been all observation. Look but don’t touch. I should be up there right now. I should see what really goes on in CnC when there’s an emergency.” Natara looked out the observation window and frowned at what she saw there. Off in the distance, a lone scout-like ship was headed toward the space station. It was coming in from the opposite direction of the fighting. She stared at it, trying to identify its race and type. Her frown became a scowl when nothing came to mind.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“That ship. Do you know it?” She pointed at the rapidly growing speck.
Soolee looked out the viewport and stared at the incoming vessel. She shook her head. “Not my area of expertise.”
“I don’t know it.”
“So?”
“You don’t understand. I don’t recognize that silhouette. There are 402 space-faring races in the Kember Empire. From those, there are 3,689 different types of military space-worthy ships, averaging nine different types of ships per race. I just passed my identification class. I’m the third cadet in the last ten graduating classes to get the silhouette test perfectly correct. I identified all 3,689 ship types based on the silhouette alone…and I don’t know that ship.”
Soolee whistled. “Impressive…but also bad. Maybe it’s a civvy ship?”
“
No. Can’t be. Shouldn’t be. Civilian traffic is restricted in this part of the sector due to the…ah…contested nature of the border. Besides, it’s too small to have come in on its own. There’s got to be a mother ship somewhere within range.” She looked out the viewport again but the rotating deck had moved them out of view of the unknown vessel. “C’mon.”
Natara and Soolee hurried down the empty corridor. Everyone was either at their battle stations or in their quarters staying out of the way. They ducked into the next observation room that was rotating into line-of-sight of the unknown ship. It was much closer now. Natara pressed against the viewport, trying to get a better view as the ship came in toward the station.
“It’s got to be all right, right?” Soolee asked. “They wouldn’t let the ship this near if it wasn’t.”
“Probably. But I want to know what it is.”
The two cadets watched as the small ship, the size of a one- or two-man scout vessel, dived down away from the docking port ring and flew parallel to the station’s body. “Oh, that’s not right. Ships aren’t supposed to…”
“What’s it doing?” Soolee pressed herself against the viewport. “Why’s it doing that?”
“I don’t know,” Natara admitted.
“Why isn’t anyone doing anything about it?”
“I don’t know,” Natara said again. “There should be tug drones out now, trying to move the ship back to the space lanes. It’s an automatic thing but…nothing’s happening. It’s like they can’t see it.”
“We can see it.”
“We’re using our eyes and not machines. It’s got to be a new stealth technology.” Natara watched the small ship land itself on the space station like an insect landing on an animal too big to notice it. “This is bad.”
“Real bad,” Soolee agreed. “That’s the hydroponics ring.”
Natara turned to her classmate. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
“We need to report this.”
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