by Cameron, TR
As if either of the two men in the room with the posturing idiot couldn’t have ripped it from its sheath and run him through before he could cry out for his guards.
Drovaa’s low baritone sounded. “We are ready to launch, Emperor. We have only to hear your will as to which target we should attack first.”
The emperor frowned. “Multiple targets? Explain.”
Drovaa clasped his hands behind his back, rearranging his wings to permit it. “Our initial sortie was against the group that calls itself the United Atlantic League. But you’ll remember that when we first encountered the humans, two ships were fighting. We’ve learned that there are separate groups of these beings, and the other one calls itself the Alliance.” He walked slowly as he spoke, maintaining a calm verbal flow.
“The mettle of this other group hasn’t been tested. We know they were present and watching during the most recent battle, and we marked the ship that was doing so. We have not yet reconnoitered this Alliance, but can trace that ship’s movements and current location. It’s safe to assume that both groups of humans are attempting to identify strategies to thwart our armada, either separately or as a species.” Drovaa turned to the Emperor and spread his feet into an at-ease position. “It’s my recommendation we continue pushing along the already-established vector, attacking this League until it’s defeated, and then turn our attention to the others.”
The emperor looked thoughtful. He also seemed excited. Kraada remembered the man had behaved this way during a previous campaign. Kraada enjoyed the mental image of Enjaaran on board the bridge of the starship during combat, turning aside to avoid laughing out loud at the lunacy of the idea, then gathering himself.
Kraada adopted a pose similar to Drovaa’s, and told the emperor, “I’m afraid I must disagree with the good marshal.” Exasperation flickered across Drovaa’s countenance, and he had to smother his own pleased reaction in response. “We have estimated the capabilities of the first set of humans and are confident they cannot stand against us for any substantial time. However, if we leave our flank exposed to the second group without assessing what technologies and strategies they might use, we engage in an unnecessary risk to the lives of our people.”
Drovaa contradicted him. “The likelihood that the Alliance will possess better technology or tactics than the first group is negligible. The recording of their engagement within the asteroid belt shows these two groups to be far more alike than different. They are so similar, in fact, that we are best served considering them to be identical.”
“And yet, if we destroy the first, but leave the other at full strength, we must then face the undamaged group. On the other hand,” Kraada gestured with his hand and wing for emphasis, “if we keep them balanced and at each other’s throats, we could reduce each to a lower level than if one is allowed to fly free while we attack the other.”
The emperor and Drovaa both considered this idea for a moment before the marshal disagreed, “Better to claim victory over half than to permit both to remain on the board at partial strength. I stand by my original recommendation.”
The emperor nodded. Kraada imagined the man appreciated decisive statements that didn’t require him to think too much. Kraada also made a show of deliberating, of considering Drovaa’s words, while he waited for the emperor to speak.
“Gentlemen, I’m convinced by the marshal’s argument from a tactical standpoint. From a strategic perspective, I see the benefits of the hierarch’s position. Kraada, are there additional arguments you wish to bring to bear?”
“I do, Your Grace.” Kraada took a steadying breath and launched into an oration. “The religious aspect of this matter must be considered. Will we define one half of the humans as our enemy? The Dhadas does mention a divided foe, but not a dual one. All of its references are to a pivotal campaign against a single opponent. This alone should encourage us to see them as a single people, rather than two separate groups, and to plan our strategy against them as a species.”
As always when speaking in his religious role, his gestures and motions emphasized each point. It was completely unconscious and enthralling to those who watched him. Kraada pointed to the sky beyond the ceiling of the room.
“But the gods have told us more than this, even. In the Dhadas, we are enjoined to ‘push the enemy back whence they came, and destroy that place that created such misbegotten demons.’ This, too suggests a consistent movement across a wide front, rather than a deep strike on half, as the marshal favors.”
He raised both palms in supplication to the eight. “It seems to me, that if we are to err, we should err on the side of the most direct interpretation of the will of the gods. I interpret that as engaging the entire species at once.” He dropped his arms and looked at Drovaa. “I do not denounce the marshal or his strategy. It’s completely viable, and in any other case, this would be as desirable as my own. However, where the gods are involved, we must defer to their words.”
Kraada clasped his hands in front of him, and bowed his head, as if entering into a moment of silent prayer. In fact, he was doing as performers had done for eons before, awaiting the response of the audience to his monologue.
As he looked up again, he saw the emperor put his hand on Drovaa’s shoulder. “Marshal Drovaa, I believe in this case the hierarch is correct. At this pivotal point in our history, we must not run the slightest risk of falling afoul of the gods’ will.”
Drovaa gave one sharp nod, and said, “Of course, Emperor Enjaaran.”
“It is done, then,” the emperor proclaimed with a clap of his hands. “Make it happen, gentlemen. Fulfill the promise of the gods and the destiny of our people. Destroy the humans and the accursed part of the universe that created them.” He gestured them toward the door while calling for his seneschal to attend him, his mind already on to his next task. Which probably involved one or more of his concubines, as he’d had such a demanding day at work, thought Kraada with no small amount of scorn.
The leaders of the Xroeshyn military and church walked out together, the air between them crackling with distrust and individual priorities that were no longer in sync with one another.
“Either way,” Drovaa said, “the result is the same. It’s time to launch our assault. I’ll send the squadrons today, targeted on the group we haven’t yet engaged, so we may discover their vulnerabilities and exploit them.”
Kraada nodded, letting the chance to twist the knife deeper pass unremarked. The men walked together in silence, until they reached the corner where their paths would diverge. Drovaa extended an arm and Kraada met him, gripping forearms yet again. They said goodbye, but as they moved to take their own separate ways, Drovaa turned back as if just remembering something.
“Indraat Vray is related to you, yes?”
“Indeed, she is my niece. Why do you ask?”
“The Jade Breeze has some equipment issues and will miss this sortie. The Ruby Rain will take the front position in the vanguard in its place. Hopefully there are no nasty surprises waiting for it against this new group of humans.”
Drovaa turned and walked away, leaving Kraada’s hands itching and clenched at the implied threat to his niece. Next time, I’m bringing my mace.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“They just don’t get it,” Cross said, tossing back his drink and wincing as it burned its way down to his already angry stomach. “An alien species with technology that’s better than ours is knocking on the door, and the admirals are most concerned about defending against a surprise attack from the Alliance.” His face showed his opinion of that small-mindedness. “What can they be thinking, Jannik?”
The older man shook his head in time with Cross. “I don’t know, my boy. What I do know, is betting on the admiralty to act in a logical fashion is at best an even money proposition. Better to bet on whether some young upstart will break the rules. Way more chance of that.”
Cross gave him a halfhearted obscene gesture in response. As much as time with Jannik was h
is most useful way to blow off steam, he just wasn’t feeling it that day. His fingers strummed, his knee bounced. He was agitated and couldn’t discern why. He watched as Jannik poured him another glass, knowing he should say no, but unwilling to make that concession to reality.
“Drink this and settle down, Cross. You’re more wired than any three systems in engineering.”
Cross sipped, aware he might be called to duty at any time. “It’s the waiting,” he said out loud, realizing it. “Normally you’re going about your business, doing things, and the likelihood that some demon will jump out of the corner and attack you is pretty small. Right now, it feels like there are bogeymen everywhere, and I can’t figure out why they’re not attacking yet.”
Jannik said, “You’ve hit the nail on the head there, no doubt. You should’ve been an engineer. No one ever tells us what’s going on, we just hang out down here until someone yells they need more power, or until someone does something stupid and breaks my ship.”
Cross laughed. “It may surprise you to learn this, but I was not the best engineer on either of my rotations in engineering.”
“My boy, that doesn’t shock me at all. You don’t have what it takes to be one of us. I guess you’ll need to be satisfied with being a lowly captain.”
Cross laughed again and noted as an afterthought that his knee was no longer bouncing. He took a deep breath and tried to let more of the tension go, partially succeeding.
“You’re a good man, Jannik.”
“Don’t I know it.”
He was about to offer a riposte when Kate entered the room, puffing as if she’d run the length of the ship. Both men turned to her as she said, “We have a problem.”
After she caught her breath, and fortified herself with a small sip from Cross’s glass, Kate got a coherent, if hoarse, message out. “The captain asked me to monitor the command network while you were off the bridge. My channel must have been set up wrong because I connected to a private conversation between Okoye and the admiralty. It was already underway before I had a chance to turn it off, and when I heard the topic, I couldn’t.”
Cross leaned forward. Jannik mirrored him. They stared at Kate while she took another enabling sip.
“One of our early warning drones has sighted the aliens. Only they’re not in our area, they’ve entered the outer reaches beyond Alliance space. The drones were deployed to watch for the next expansion moves by the Alliance. This one has apparently been out there for over a year. It tunneled to Starbase 13, and the ship we left behind to keep an eye on things launched its own tunnel drone back to the fleet.”
She paused, and Cross jumped into the gap. “Tell me we’re going after them. Tell me this Kate. Please.” He knew what the answer would be, but he had to ask.
“No. They’re planning to send out several ships to record the battle, to learn what we can, but we won’t intervene when the aliens attack into Alliance territory, which is what all indications suggest they’re going to do. Or, are doing right now, given the delay in getting the message.”
“Damn it,” Cross yelled, standing up and kicking his chair across the room. He growled in frustration and stalked, muttering to himself. When he regained his composure, he came back to the table to rejoin Kate and Jannik, who’d been quietly talking.
Before he could speak, Jannik said it for him, “We need to tell them.”
“We do,” Kate confirmed.
Cross nodded, but his words didn’t agree with his gesture. “What you’re suggesting is treason, plain and simple. Court-martial for all of us if we’re caught. Is it worth that risk?”
Jannik and Kate exchanged glances, and each paused before the older man spoke for them both. “Aye, it is,” said Jannik.
Kate continued, “We can’t just let them be taken by surprise. It’s not right. When conscience and duty conflict—”
Cross finished for her, echoing their conversations at the Academy when they found themselves at odds with their professors over interpretations of historical situations, “—conscience must be our guide.” The sad smile she gave him in response to that was beautiful, and it was all he could do not to tell her so.
“Right then,” he said instead, “how?”
“I think I may have an answer to that,” Jannik said. “If Kate here will give me an assist. You see, we paused a series of experiments involving our sensor modules due to all of this,” he waved a hand at the air, “excitement that’s been going on.”
“Uh-huh,” pressed Cross, to keep Jannik from departing on a tangent about young people and excitement and about how if engineers were in charge, things would be different and so on.
“Well, there’s no reason not to continue those experiments while we are filling in the gaps between activities, right? Isn’t that what an efficient crew would do?” He looked at Kate as he asked.
“It’s certainly what I would do, and I’ve always considered myself to be efficient. How will this help us, though, oh wise one?”
“Well, you, young people wouldn’t know this, but the original sensor design was built to include communication functionality in the low bands of the electromagnetic spectrum. Kind of like Morse code, but updated from the telegraph to interstellar relays. It would need special programming to bounce quietly from sensor array to sensor array, so would take time to get there, but encoded this way it would be well-nigh impossible to discover.”
Kate tapped her chin, frowning, as she considered the possibilities. “Okay, it’s easy to see how we’ll get it encoded, and under the guise of testing the main sensor array I see how we can get it off the ship. But how we can we make sure that the Alliance receives it?”
“Petryaev,” Cross said. “That’s how. You two set up the technology, I’ll take care of getting them to monitor the right frequency.”
In his quarters, he composed the messages he wanted to send to Dima. The first read “Mutual friends incoming. Put out the welcome mat.” That phrasing gave them at least face deniability with the admiralty since it didn’t explicitly mention the alien threat. Cross knew it was thin, very thin, but he would do what he could, anyway. He was sure that Dima would understand it. Anyway, that message would be well-hidden within the activity of the sensors.
He signaled Kate to come by his room and gave her the first message. They would provide as little lingering evidence of their treachery as possible. He spent the next fifteen minutes figuring out how to convey the frequency information to Dima. When he was done, he leaned back and reviewed what he had written.
“Captain First Rank Petryaev. I have been told that you enjoy chess. Allow me to respond to your last message in kind. Queen to Bishop 4, Knight’s pawn to Knight’s pawn 3, Queen’s Castle to Queen’s Castle 4, King’s Knight to King’s Castle 3. I’m sure that the frequency of our moves will be low, but hopefully you are an accomplished enough player to sense my developing strategy.”
Cross sighed. There was no easy way to communicate numbers and scientific terms in the open. Dima would be alerted by the existence of the message, so that would at least be something. He hand-delivered it to Jannik and Kate for approval before returning his to his quarters and recording it.
He cleared his throat and opened a channel to the bridge.
“Captain Okoye, sir? I request permission to send a message of a personal nature to AAN Captain First Rank Dima Petryaev. You may remember him, he’s the one we met after the destruction of the Gagarin.”
“I remember, Cross,” the Captain said without inflection. “Content?”
“I’ve linked it to your tablet, sir. In essence, I am offering a response to his last message.”
The channel carried a quiet hiss, and Cross guessed that the captain was reviewing it. “Interesting strategy, Lieutenant Commander.”
“I thought so, sir.”
“Fine,” Okoye said, “you have my approval, although why you’re bothering at a time like this is completely beyond me.” Cross thought he might be laying it on a little th
ickly, but he was in no position to judge Okoye’s skills in dissembling and secrecy.
“Also, Captain, I’m not sure if they mentioned it, but Kate and Jannik are ready to resume the work they were doing on our sensors before the unpleasantness with the Gagarin.”
He pictured the captain shaking his head, and was pretty sure he heard it in his voice when he said, “Fine, Cross. Thank you for informing me. Now if there is no other vital and timely information you need to share, I’d like to get back to commanding my ship. If that’s okay with you?”
“Absolutely, sir. Sorry to bother you.”
“Sure, Cross, sure. Okoye out.”
Cross smiled, his appreciation of Okoye’s craftiness increasing with each passing day. He tapped the code into his communicator, and both Jannik and Kate received it as planned.
Just like that, they were traitors.
Just like that, they may have given the Alliance one chance in a hundred to survive the coming attack. Cross fell on his bunk to catch some much-needed sleep, but not before saying a small prayer to whatever gods might be listening to give him, just this once, that one percent.
Chapter Thirty
It was a sight that he would never tire of, Dima thought. The Allied Asian Nations’ most forward starbase hung in orbit over the planet next on the list for colonization. It glistened, white against the black sky—aglow as a beacon against the endless night that surrounded it. Alliance ships darted around the station like bees around a hive, docking, loading and unloading, then shooting off again.
The Beijing was in dock, though it was standard practice for Dima to keep at least two-thirds of his sailors on board. Other captains might let all of their crew members relax at once, leaving the ship with only a skeleton crew. Dima did not believe in skeleton crews. As far as his people knew, he didn’t believe in shore leave, either. If they’d known him when he was their age, Dima thought, they might have a different opinion.