No Plan Survives

by L. D. Robinson

  A tall man in clothes similar to Mehta’s walked past the security and approached the shuttle in long strides. Dark eyes looked up at them, and a chill descended over Aahliss as massive waves of hatred slammed into her. What was this man’s problem?

  “Colonel Mehta?” he said.

  “That’s my ride home,” Mehta said to Aahliss with a smile.

  How could she be smiling? Even the most insensitive Mralan would sense—no. Mehta was a human. She knew only this man’s calm exterior. How awful to be so blind.

  The hate roiled. Spirits, what did this man have planned? Was he going to do violence to the one person Aahliss had found on Earth that she could tolerate? Could she allow that to happen?

  The man stopped at the bottom of the ramp. “Good evening,” he said. “I am Lieutenant Colonel Ramirez.” He took one step up.

  Aahliss stiffened. “Stay away from me.”

  He stopped, then looked at Mehta. “What did she say?”

  “I’ll get you a translator.”

  Aahliss turned to Mehta and frowned. “You shouldn’t go with him.”

  “Things’ll be fine. May I pass?”

  Aahliss only now realized she had been blocking the doorway. She stepped away, then stole another glance at Ramirez. “I’m very serious. You should stay away from this man.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  Aahliss now felt the confidence this woman had, the certainty that she was in no danger, even though Ramirez’ anger was powerful. Aahliss knew there was no stopping Mehta, no warning her. If she said anything more, Mehta might become angry. “Be careful.”

  “Thank you,” Mehta answered, then slipped out of the shuttle

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Some kind of tractor beam?” Ramirez said. He had brought Mehta to a tiny office, where he and an intelligence specialist sat across from her, asking everything they could think about regarding her brief shuttle ride. The specialist buried his head in his tablet, thumb-typing as fast as she could type.

  But most of Mehta’s answers were negative, like this one. “I really don’t know.” She didn’t think she was able to provide them much information.

  After that, she reported to Major General Uboldi, who provided her with her unit’s follow-on mission to patrol the outside of the fence around the base. She pushed away her feelings of disappointment that they were not going back home, then she gave him a list of her requirements, including office space where she and her staff could work.

  She wasn’t sure when she would ever see those offices. Uboldi also instructed her to be back at the hangar by 0800 the next morning.

  The first thing Colonel Mehta heard when she entered the hangar was Major General Uboldi’s excited voice. “She’s here.” He hurried over to the door, his hand out. It was warm when she shook it. “Glad you could make it.” He now wore a personal translator, as did everyone else she could see in the hangar.

  She smiled and thanked Uboldi, resisting the temptation to say that she didn’t want to be here. Not to mention that she didn’t need to see Trel again.

  And damn, there he was, walking toward them with a broad smile that pressed long dimples into his cheeks. “They’ve got a refreshment table,” he said. “Can I get you …” He turned to Uboldi. “What did you call it?”

  “Coffee,” Uboldi said.

  “Thank you,” Mehta said, now trying hard to reduce the size of her smile. Damn, he was cute. “I take it black.”

  “I’ll have it right over,” Trel said and jaunted back to the table with the coffee urns.

  “Colonel Mehta,” Mr. Brown said. He stood by a longer table, his blue pinstriped suit jacket hung over the back of one of the chairs.

  “Yes?” She walked toward him.

  “Okay, here’s the deal,” he said, then looked around, apparently checking on Trel’s whereabouts. “The president has been very clear that he wants to get technology from these aliens. That’s our goal.”

  “Right. What do you want me to do?”

  “Just stay with this old woman and make sure she’s comfortable with everything.”

  Mehta gulped silently. That sounded like a tall order. It also didn’t look like it made Brown feel any more comfortable. “What else is bothering you?”

  “You noticed, huh?” he said, then heaved a loud sigh. “I’ve been watching them since we got here, and I don’t know. Something is off.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “I don’t think these aliens have any idea what they’re doing. I mean, just look at this Trel. He should be cow towing to the representative of his own side, not getting you coffee.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Not exactly. They just keep looking around like they’re not sure what should happen next. And no one seems to be in charge.”

  “They’re from an alien culture,” Mehta said. “Why are you expecting them to act like human diplomats?”

  “Some things, in my mind, are constants. Some things, you just have to do.”

  “Then what are you saying? They don’t think we’re important enough to send the pros?”

  “Hell, they didn’t even send the ‘B’ team.” He paused for a moment, hand cupping his jaw. “What did you learn about Aahliss on your trip over? Is she going to be willing to talk?”

  “Hard to tell.”

  “Here’s your coffee,” Trel said behind her.

  She spun around and took the cup. “Just how I like it. Thanks.”

  He grinned, and she watched him return to the refreshments table. Ramirez also headed that way, holding a pink donut box. As they got close to each other, Trel abruptly stopped walking, and then he changed his path to a meandering loop, keeping his distance from Ramirez.

  Interesting. So Trel didn’t like the man, either. But why? It wasn’t like Ramirez was dangerous. And he’d been perfectly polite. So, what was the Mralans’ deal?

  A moment later, Trel was back. “What did you do to that man?” he said to Mehta.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Why is he so angry at you?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “I think you’re confused.”

  “Well, it’s too much anger. Aahliss won’t be able to stand it.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks.” Trel smiled, then left again.

  Brown frowned. “So now I have to kick out my primary intelligence guy?”

  Mehta smiled at him. “Now, don’t you get angry, too.”

  “Right. I’ll just tell Ramirez to keep it toned down.” He walked across the floor, toward Ramirez.

  A few minutes later, Colonel Freeman directed her to a small table situated between the main table and the shuttle. “You’ll sit here with Aahliss and help her.”

  “Okay.” She put her hand on the back of the chair. A headache hid right at the edge of her awareness, and her mouth had gone dry. She had no idea what she was supposed to do. Help Aahliss? What did that mean? And what if, in her confusion, she did something wrong?

  Try to relax. Aahliss is going to want a calm presence beside her, not a ball of nerves. She took a deep breath and let it out. Damn, they were expecting the impossible.

  “Now remember,” Mr. Brown said as he walked to the central seat of the main table, “this woman is an empath, so she can tell what you’re feeling. Try not to give her a reason to be concerned.”

  Behind Mehta, the shuttle door opened, and the clunk of the metal ramp landing on the concrete echoed through the hangar. Aahliss appeared at the top, then made her way to the table. Everyone sat, Mr. Brown in the central seat, flanked by Freeman and Uboldi, and a lieutenant operated a recording device on the far end. Lieutenant Colonel Ramirez sat near the hangar door, a pad of paper on his lap, an angry expression on his face. Hopefully, he was far enough away not to disrupt things.

  After a few preliminary comments, Mr. Brown picked up a piece of paper and looked at it. “About this one person you want to come and help you...”

&nbs
p; “Yes?” Aahliss said.

  “It sounded to me like you’re in a war. Is that going to be enough?”

  “All we need is someone clever.” Aahliss lifted her hands a foot off the table and smiled, as though she thought it was a simple matter. “We only need some new ideas.”

  “So, you want military advisors?”

  “Just one.”

  Mehta swallowed hard. Oh, please don’t let Aahliss ask for her. While it had been exciting riding in the shuttle, that was the limit she thought she could indulge herself in this new adventure. She was right in the middle of her brigade command, and this position, more than any other, was the ticket to a promotion. Without a successful brigade command under her belt, she couldn’t expect to make general, at all. So, if she got taken out of command too soon, her career would be over.

  “How long will this person be gone from Earth?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He would get to return, wouldn’t he?”

  This was starting to sound hostile, like Aahliss was being cross-examined. Mehta pressed her mouth into a smile and tried to project calm toward Aahliss. That was her duty, she presumed—to hold Aahliss’s hand, metaphorically speaking. Maybe she could be an emotional shield, keeping Aahliss from sensing what the others felt. That sounded like the best use of her efforts. She would project calm. Calm thoughts. Calm feelings.

  Aahliss clasped her hands together on the table and the tips of her fingers turned red. “Once we’re certain we have what we need, yes.”

  The men at the table stared, while outside, the roar of a jet taking off rattled the doors of the hangar. When the sound died down, Brown took a deep breath. “Our government can support such a request, but first we’ll need to draw up a list of the kinds of things an advisor will do, just so there’s no misunderstandings.”

  “That sounds reasonable.”

  “And in exchange for this service, we are requesting help in developing our own faster-than-light capabilities.”

  Aahliss puckered her face. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. My government will not supply technology to anyone. It goes against the wishes of the Spirits.”

  “Spirits?” Mehta said. “Could you tell us about them?” If the prohibition on sharing technology was based on some commandment from a religious source, it was going to be ten times as difficult to overcome as if it was merely a decision made by some mortals. You could reason with a government, but religious dogma was often calcified beyond any hope of change.

  Aahliss gave her a dismissive frown. “We offer to protect your planet. That’s what we can provide. Nothing more.”

  Brown tapped a finger on the table, then let out a loud breath. “You need to understand. Our government is not going to want to accept that deal.”

  Aahliss sat back and closed her eyes. “Why must they be so stubborn?” she whispered. It sounded like a prayer.

  “They’re grown men,” Mehta replied, her voice soft. “Protecting them makes them feel like children. They want to be able to protect themselves.”

  “They’re violent and domineering. We can’t enable yet another such species to roam around interstellar space. The Dakh Hhargash cause us enough trouble, and a second such group would be… more than we can handle.”

  Mehta leaned forward. “You think we’ll be like the Dakh Hhargash? Really?”

  Aahliss’s eyes met hers in a steely gaze. “Look at your planet’s history and tell me it’s not possible.”

  Mehta swallowed hard. When the argument was put that way, it was difficult to refute.

  A loud series of thumps came from inside the shuttle, and Aahliss gasped.

  Mehta spun her head toward the shuttle, where the co-pilot appeared in the door, his face filled with alarm. Oh, dear, what if something happened to Trel? What if he was having a heart attack?

  “Counselor!” the young man shouted, “we’re getting a transmission!”

  Aahliss put her hands over her heart and closed her eyes. “Oh, Spirits,” she whispered, “save us from this scourge. Save us.”

  Scourge. Did that mean this Species X group was communicating with them? Mehta turned and hurried to the shuttle door. “What’s happening?”

  “Colonel, where do you think you’re going?” Uboldi said.

  Mehta looked back at him. All the men were on their feet, leaning forward.

  “Let them watch it,” Aahliss said.

  The men moved around the table, and Mehta hurried up the ramp, then turned toward the cockpit, where a screen in the center of the instrument panel showed what appeared to be the bridge of a larger ship, with all bridge personnel silently staring at the camera—probably the location of their own screen.

  “Sit there,” Trel said, indicating the co-pilot’s seat.

  “You’re sure?” she said as she eased herself into the spot.

  Trel gave her a quick smile. “He doesn’t like watching these.”

  “Do we have a confirmation?” someone on the screen said.

  “Not yet.”

  “Is that your ship? The one that brought you here?” Mehta asked.

  “No. This ship is out in sector five-twelve.”

  “Pretty far away? What sector are we in?”

  “Sector four thirty-two. That ship,” he said, pointing to the screen, “is about two thousand light-years away.”

  Mehta breathed a sigh of relief. At least the danger was distant. But the strained faces on the screen, all human-looking except for those ears, made the problem feel personal and close at hand.

  “Identity confirmed,” a voice from the far-off ship said. “Species X.”

  By now, Uboldi, Brown, Freeman, and even Ramirez were crowded in the cockpit entrance, watching. They saw the fear register on the faces of the crew. One crewmember closed her eyes and started whispering a prayer.

  “Three minutes until we reach the gas giant,” a male crewmember said. “All power to propulsion.”

  Mehta looked over the faces, searching for the elder crewmember, the one with the most experience, in the center of the action, in command. Which one was the captain? None of them stood out, none seemed to be giving orders. “Who’s in charge?” she asked Trel.

  Trel gave her a puzzled look, and her own words came back to her. These are aliens. Why are you expecting them to act like humans?

  “They’re getting ready to fire!” an alarmed voice shouted. “We need to raise the shields.”

  “They’re far enough away they won’t do much damage,” another said.

  “Won’t do much? All we need is a little damage going into the gas giant and we’ll be destroyed.”

  “Two minutes.”

  “I’ll fire back at them,” a gravelly voice said. “Their shields are down, right?”

  “Yes—no. Their shields just came up.”

  “They fired!”

  “Shields up!”

  “No, no! I need that energy to get us to the planet!”

  The bridge rattled, and restraint systems sparkled around each of the crewmembers.

  Mehta shook her head. “What is going on there? Don’t they have a plan?”

  “Of course they do,” Trel said. “And it’s one of the best.”

  “One minute to entry into the gas giant atmosphere.”

  “That’s their plan?”

  “Yup. They’ll hide there ‘til the Species X ship loses track of them or goes away.”

  Mehta frowned. That didn’t seem like a very good plan. You didn’t defeat your enemy by avoiding them. Just what the hell did they think they could accomplish?

  “They’re getting ready to fire again.”

  Mehta looked back at the screen. “I didn’t hear a damage report from that first hit.” That was important. A commander needed to understand the state of his own force, not just that of the enemy. How could anyone make good decisions without that kind of knowledge?

  “Ten seconds.”

  “They fired again.”

  “Give me power to the
shields!”

  The bridge rattled again, the restraints shimmered, the crew froze for a split second.

  “Entering the atmosphere.”

  “They’re getting ready to fire again.”

  Mehta balled her hands into fists and pounded on the arm rests. “Damage report. Damage report!”

  “Their weapon’s energy will be diffused in the atmosphere,” the gravelly voice said. “Won’t be effective.”

  “We’ve got to go deeper if we’re going to lose them.”

  “We’ll go as deep as the hull can stand.” This voice sounded confident, like going that deep would obscure the ship so well the Species X ship would not be able to find them.

  “Hull stress is 30%.”

  “Still descending.”

  Mehta sat back and waited, hand to her mouth, thumb running along her scar. They weren’t doing it right. They weren’t doing anything right.

  “Hull stress is 50%.”

  “They’re still firing weapons directly above us. That means they can still see us.”

  “I’m going deeper.”

  A moment of silence passed while everyone watched the helmsman, the one who’d just spoken.

  An alarm sounded, a high-pitched yowl. “Hull collapsed on bow section 12,” the person two seats away from the helmsman said. He was the same crewmember who’d been calling off the hull stress, so maybe he was engineering. “I’m trying to isolate it.”

  “I told you even a little damage—”

  “Shut up! Can you fix it?”

  “Sections 13,14, 15… all collapsing. Inner bulkheads can’t take these pressures. We have to get out of here.”

  “The enemy ship is still right on top of us.”

  “Turn us. Turn us!” the engineer said. “Ascend in a different direction.”

  “They can still see us!” That person had to be the sensor operator.

  “Ascending.”

  “We just lost one of the starboard thrusters.”

  “I can’t compensate,” the helmsman said. “Looks like we’re going to ascend in circles.”

  “The hull stress is increasing! What’s going on?”

  “I see that. I…” The helmsman looked desperately at his controls. “Did we lose another thruster?”

  “I can’t tell. My instruments aren’t showing anything.”