by Ryk Brown
“They still have to get those ships onto the proper speed and course for it to work. If they are off by even the slightest…”
“Then the jump drive sequencer will not engage,” Vladimir pointed out.
“You’re right, it won’t,” Robert agreed. “But then what?”
“They come about and try again,” General Telles suggested.
“Not quite as easy as it sounds, General. It’s not like driving a boat,” Robert objected.
“Actually, it is very similar,” Vladimir argued. “I mean, it is not the same, of course, but the jump drive sequencer is designed to take small errors in course and speed into consideration. True, it will abort the jump if the gunship is too far off, but it will first attempt to recalculate the jump and make adjustments. If it can do so and still get the gunship to the destination with reasonable accuracy, the jump will initiate.”
“So, essentially you just want to play ‘follow the leader’ all the way back to the Pentaurus sector?” Robert scratched his head. “That’s got to be one of the craziest ideas I’ve ever heard.”
“Crazier than stealing the gunships to begin with?” Vladimir wondered.
“No, I guess not,” Robert admitted.
“We don’t have to get the gunships all the way back to the Karuzari fleet,” General Telles explained. “We just need to get them far enough away from the Alliance, so they can safely await either a recovery ship or more qualified flight crews to retrieve them.”
“That makes sense, I guess,” Robert admitted. “But it still seems risky.”
“I admit there is risk involved,” the general stated. “But there is also risk involved with the theft to begin with. I am only seeking to extract maximum benefit from the mission.”
Robert sighed. “You know, while Gil and I were figuring this thing out, there was one variable we couldn’t quantify.”
“What was that?” General Telles wondered.
“Just how good the Ghatazhak really are,” Robert replied. “There are at least fifty Alliance Marines stationed there, sometimes more. And I’m not talking about the ones you trained seven years ago. These guys are much better. They are probably the closest thing the Alliance has to Ghatazhak.”
“How long ago was such a program implemented?” General Telles wondered.
“A couple years after you guys left, I guess. So maybe five years?”
“Ghatazhak train for more than a decade prior to beginning their first tour of duty. We start just before puberty, both mentally and physically. We not only learn how to fight, we also learn how to think. Physical sciences, philosophy, economics, political sciences, psychology, physics, medical sciences… You name it, the Ghatazhak know it.”
“I was not aware,” Robert admitted.
“There is far more to being a soldier than pressing a trigger on a weapon,” General Telles said. “Knowledge, understanding, and insight…those are what separate the Ghatazhak from any other soldier. We act as one, we think as one, and we understand everything…more rapidly than others.”
“Then you are not afraid of failure?” Robert asked.
“If the information you and Captain Roselle provided is accurate, then I am confident we will be successful. What I do not know, is how many men I will lose in the process.”
“I thought the Ghatazhak were not afraid of dying,” Vladimir said.
“We are not,” General Telles confirmed. “To die in battle is the ultimate honor for a Ghatazhak. My concerns are logistical. There are no more Ghatazhak, only those who escaped Lawrence. The more of them we lose, the lower our chances of defeating the Dusahn become. It is as simple as that.” General Telles turned and departed without another word.
Vladimir looked at Robert. “I am glad he is not my commanding officer.”
“I should go help him,” Robert said, “I am type-rated for Cobra gunships, after all. And there’s only so many of the Ghatazhak left, right?” Robert added, patting Vladimir on the shoulder as he departed to follow the general.
* * *
Miri paced nervously across one of the catering staging rooms just down the corridor from the president’s skybox, at the Winnipeg Wolves arena. She could hear the muffled sounds of the crowd and the voices of the broadcasters calling the play-by-play action that was piped into all the skyboxes. Her heart was beating a mile a minute, her palms were sweaty, and she felt light-headed, the same way she had felt when she had first seen Nathan on that first vid-message a few weeks ago.
Until yesterday, she was beginning to believe the message had been a hoax; an elaborate plan to get her to relay a message to the Aurora.
But he had looked so real.
His hair had been longer and he had been wearing that god-awful, mess of a beard but the eyes were unmistakable. It was Nathan.
Or so she had thought.
When she heard nothing back from Doctor Chen or Captain Taylor, she began to doubt she had ever even received that message. Perhaps it had been a dream? It wouldn’t have been the first time she had dreamt that her baby brother was still alive.
She had to shake the doubts away. Given the events of the past twenty-four hours, it had to have been him. It had to be…
The door swung open and two black-suited NAU security officers entered the room, followed by…
“Oh my, God,” Miri gasped, her hands coming to her mouth.
The black-suited men stepped back out, closing the door behind them.
It was that smile…that same smile.
“Hi Miri,” Nathan said, raising his arms, inviting her embrace.
“Nathan,” she whispered, almost crying as she fell into his outstretched arms. “You are alive.”
Nathan held her tightly. “God, it’s good to see you again,” he whispered back.
Miri pulled back from him a bit, just enough to look at his face. “You look terrible,” she laughed, rubbing the stubble on his cheek.
“It’s been a rough few weeks.”
She laughed again. “It’s been seven years, Nathan. Why haven’t you…”
“It’s a long story,” Nathan interrupted. “One that can wait for another time. Just know that there was no other way and leave it at that for now.”
“But…”
“I need you to trust me, Miri,” Nathan urged.
“Of course I trust you, Nathan.”
“Where’s Pop?”
“He’s nearby,” Miri assured him. “I had to… I had to be sure it was really you. He’s been through so much. Your death has been really hard on him. I didn’t want to take the chance…”
“You don’t have to explain,” Nathan said, interrupting her again. “I understand.”
Miri pulled back further, turning to look at Jessica. “It’s good to see you again, Jessica. I hope you’re taking good care of him.”
“I’m trying,” Jessica replied. “He doesn’t make it easy, though.”
“I can imagine.”
“I hate to rush your reunion, but the faster we get this done the better,” Jessica reminded Nathan.
“She’s right,” Nathan sighed.
“Of course,” Miri replied, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her comm-unit. “Scott-Thornton, one one five seven, alpha four, echo two two five. Bring the president to room four one seven. There is someone he needs to speak to, as soon as possible. Yes, the room is secure. Two agents are at the door. Thank you.” She ended the call and returned the comm-unit to her pocket. “He should be here shortly. Meanwhile, you want to tell me how you managed to get out of a Jung cell on Nor-Patri, on the eve of your execution?”
“He had some help,” Jessica told her.
“Yeah, I figured that much.”
“Like I said, it’s a long story and we don’t have t
ime to go into details at the moment,” Nathan repeated.
“Well, what the hell is going on in the Pentaurus cluster?” Miri asked instead. “It must be important, if you decided to come all the way back to Earth after all these years in hiding.”
“Look, Miri, I realize you’re probably mad at me for not letting you know I was alive sooner…”
“Oh, just a little, yes.”
The door opened and two more NAU security stepped in, quickly checking the room.
“Miss Scott-Thornton, I have the president outside,” the first man said.
“Please, bring him in,” Miri instructed, stepping around to stand between Nathan, his back turned, and the door.
Nathan did not turn around, instead keeping his back to the door as his father entered the room.
President Scott, accustomed to private discussions taking place at various locations behind one closed door or another, instinctively waited for the door to close behind him before speaking. “What’s going on here, Miri?” he asked. He looked at Jessica, suddenly recognizing her. “Jessica Nash?”
“Yes, Mister President,” Jessica replied. “It’s good to see you again, sir.”
“Are you the one I am supposed to speak with?” he asked.
“No, sir,” she replied, stepping to one side.
Miri also stepped to the side as Nathan turned around to face his father.
“Hello, Mister President,” Nathan greeted.
President Scott was speechless, his mouth agape and his eyes wide in disbelief. “This can’t be,” he said, mumbling his words as if he were half speaking them and half thinking them. “Nathan?”
“Yes, sir, it’s me.”
“But…but… I thought…” He looked at Miri, his eyes welling up. “Miri?”
“It’s him,” she told him, her eyes tearing up, as well. “It’s really Nathan.”
“My God…” he whispered, his voice trembling as he opened his arms to embrace the son he believed long dead.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Abby picked at her breakfast, her mind elsewhere as her husband recited his itinerary for the day in his usual fashion. It had been four days since she had sabotaged the results of the terrenium-enhanced emitter tests and every day that she had gone to work since then, she had expected to be her last.
“Abby?”
She had been positive that someone would discover the missing reactor logs. After all, there were people who checked those things. Ever since her father had discovered a discrepancy in a shield test from before the bio-digital plague, and that accidental discovery had led to the development of the jump drive, independent data audits had become standard on all research and development projects.
“Abby!”
Erik’s tone startled her. “What?”
“Did you hear a single word I said?”
“I’m sorry, my mind was elsewhere.” Abby took a bite of her breakfast, despite her lack of appetite.
“What’s gotten into you lately?” her husband asked.
“I’m fine,” Abby insisted.
“You’ve been distant; you haven’t been eating or sleeping. Is something wrong? Something at work?”
“No, everything is fine.”
“Is it about the last emitter test?” Erik surmised. “You always say that sometimes the numbers are wrong; that they don’t account for unknown variables, right? That’s why everything has to be tested, and not just computer-modeled.”
“You’re right.”
“Well, now I know something is wrong,” Erik joked. When she didn’t respond, he pressed. “Is it possible that there isn’t a way to make stealth emitters for large ships?” Again he waited, but got nothing. “That’s it, isn’t it?” Erik fell back in his chair in desperation. “My God, we’re never going to get out of this place.”
“That’s not it, Erik,” Abby finally said.
“Then what is it?”
“I already know how to make the stealth emitters work,” she admitted.
Erik looked confused. “But… When did you figure it out?”
“Four days ago. The night you and the kids were at the game.”
“Isn’t that the day the emitters failed?”
“Yes, at least that’s what we thought.”
“I’m confused.”
“Everyone thinks they failed,” Abby explained, “but I know they didn’t. The test environment was flawed. The energy levels were too high.”
“Then why isn’t everyone celebrating?” he wondered. “Why have you been so glum the last few days? Is it because of what you were talking about the other day? Because you’re afraid of what Galiardi will do with it? Abby, I thought we agreed that it’s not your responsibility. If you hadn’t figured it out, someone else would have.”
Abby just looked at him, a guilty expression on her face.
Erik’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell them, did you?”
“No.”
“Jesus, Abby, you know they’ll figure it out sooner or later.”
“Maybe.” Abby looked at him again. “But probably not, considering…”
“Considering what?”
“I deleted the evidence.”
“You what?”
“I deleted the file.”
“You can’t delete test data, can you?” Erik challenged. “I thought all that stuff was protected; backed up and all that.”
“The test data is protected, and has a multi-level backup. But the reactor logs are not as well protected. And I didn’t actually delete them. I just corrupted them so that they’re useless.”
Erik took a slow, deep breath. “Abby, why would you do that? You know they’ll eventually figure it out, and the Alliance will have their stealth jump ships.”
“I know, but now that they think the terrenium is a dead end, they’ll have to start over with a new coating. That will take another month just to get to the full-power testing phase. And that will fail, as well, which means they’ll try something else, and so on… It could take them years to figure it out.”
“And what if the Jung attack us before then?” Erik asked. “It should be easy for them, now that they have jump drives.”
“Then I can give them what they want.”
“And go to prison.”
“They don’t put people in prison for corrupting reactor logs, Erik.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“I don’t have to tell them that I steered them away from it. I just have to make them believe that I want to try the terrenium again.”
Erik did not look pleased. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe you don’t have the right to decide what gets invented, and what doesn’t? Or who gets it and who doesn’t?”
“Now you sound like my father,” Abby said.
“Your father was a wise man, Abby. He believed that a scientist’s job was to discover truths, and that it was society’s decision what to do with them.”
“He had the luxury of not having seen the evil that humans can do with those discoveries, Erik. I do not. I’ve seen it, and so have you, and so have our children! I, for one, do not want to be a party to that! Not again!”
“Abby, I understand that. I really do. I lived through the invasion of Earth and the bombardment during the liberation. I kept our children safe while you were jumping around the stars.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I never said it was. But it still isn’t your fault, nor your father’s. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s the Jung’s.” Erik sat back again, taking a moment to lessen the tension. “I know you don’t trust Galiardi. I don’t blame you. I don’t trust him either. But is there anyone that you do trust with this technology?”
Abby thought for a moment. “
No, I suppose not.” She turned toward him. “You think I should give Galiardi his stealth jump drive.”
“That’s your decision, Abby.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Just think about it.”
“That’s all I’ve been thinking about,” she insisted.
Erik smiled, rising from his chair. “I have to get the kids to school.” He paused in passing, kissing her on the head. “Don’t forget, you’re cooking dinner tomorrow night so you need to go to the store sometime soon.”
Abby stared at her half-eaten breakfast, thinking. Her husband reminded her so much of her father. Both had never-ending faith in humanity. Both believed that things always worked out in the end. She wanted to feel the same way, but she couldn’t figure out how. Trust was not something that came easily for her, and trusting Admiral Galiardi with a stealth jump drive felt wrong.
* * *
The flight from Winnipeg to Cocoa Beach had been grueling. Nathan and Jessica had left at the break of dawn, flying for as long as their fully-charged battery would take them before landing and recharging while they napped. Once the sun was high enough, they continued their journey with a new charge, and the knowledge that their aircraft would have the energy to complete their three-thousand-kilometer cross-country trek.
They had chosen to divide the journey into a series of two-hour hops; neither of them wanted to endure the uncomfortable cockpit of the Allen Aerobat longer than they had to. Miri had provided them with all the funds they would need for the remainder of their stay on Earth, despite the fact that Nathan had refused to tell them what they were planning.
Although the conversation with his father had lasted for hours, Nathan wished he could have spent more time with him. Nathan and Jessica had shared nearly everything with the president and Miri: the Dusahn, the false-flag operation in the Sol sector, and the fact that Galiardi knew that it was not the Jung who had trespassed in Alliance space, nor had they invaded the Pentaurus cluster. They even told him about the Aurora’s defection to the Karuzari. What they did not tell him were their plans to convince Abby to join them, and to steal a half-dozen Cobra gunships. Not that the president would have tried to stop them, but to provide him with plausible deniability should the need arise.