The Resolute

by G. Weldon Tucker

  Everyone on the bridge cheered, even Commander Willits, who was often the wet blanket in all this progress. Not because he was slow, but because he was careful.

  They had avoided a certainly one sided battle, they had new engines, better lasers, better scanners, and they had each other, every member of Resolute. The rest they brought along in memories, each and every one of them.

  -----

  Not even Chips, who had a tremendous set of archives about every star cluster, every arm of the galaxy they had explored, could tell them where they were going. They had no idea how long, how far, or for sure, what this bearing meant. Time passed, as it always does, in routine functions, shift after shift, meal after meal, workout after workout.

  And with those that paired, a better kind of workout. Especially, Angela and Jack. They were, for all intents and purposes, still newlyweds…

  BOOK VI

  Home- At Last

  CHAPTER 1

  Over the years that followed, Brandon grew stronger, bigger than most kids in the program, and he was sharp as could be. Angela, who thought herself very intelligent, and was not alone in that opinion, had, early on, recognized the enhancements in her son.

  Jack was proud and tickled.

  Like any other parents, they played games, worked the simulators, providing entertainment and, yes, training. And no one touched Brandon’s scores. Like his mother, he was an ace… with one exception.

  He beat her scores by one to two percent average, every time. Even her best old scores! Does not sound like much in a hundred games, or simulations, but his mother had mostly 96-97% on average. He stayed 99-100% across the board. The Academy was practically foaming at the mouth in anticipation.

  -----

  The years, seemingly effortlessly, had become decades. Kids grow up, strike out on their own, and hopefully become productive people in careers of their choice. The sameness of living in a tin can continued, though for the first time in years, Angela was involved in her family, which lessened the tedium. Jack found himself suddenly over the hump, sliding past fifty years of age, heading for the finish line. Of course, we who have surpassed fifty by many more years, scoff at how we fretted the big ‘five-oh!’ Angela, still a few years back, thought he looked rakishly handsome, all the same.

  And still, no planet…

  -----

  They had no idea of the destination, though they were sailing well above the Milky Way, and not towards the center. As expressed earlier, the Milky Way is huge, and the arms are all pretty much alike. Especially at nearly eight times light speed. No one had a clue to their location.

  Solar systems slid by below them, relative, with none showing any planet formations they could use. But then, at this speed, it was a mere glimpse while Chips gathered rate at a phenomenal rate and they were beyond it.

  So, the journey continued.

  CHAPTER 2

  As Jack and Angela watched with pride, twenty year old Brandon entered the academy, spending his first two years as a rising star, with three more to completion. Time flies.

  Angela received a surprise from the Council as they promoted Jack to Admiral of the Navy, a newly arranged rank, though it had, of course, been common enough on Earth. But that was a hell of a long time ago.

  The ship had always stopped at Captain, assuming an Admiral should oversee more than one vessel. They brought Angela in under him as Vice Admiral. Typical of this era’s Navy, they kept pairings no more than one grade from each other. And yes, men were still more appropriate at the top in this man’s Navy…

  Angela was content, for she looked up, literally, to her mate, and she knew his skills, his importance to Resolute and her people, now numbering four hundred fifty thousand. But she made it clear, he commanded the overall flights, in or out of battle, but the bridge was hers alone. He agreed. Who in their right mind would disagree with a powerful spouse… whatever the pairing?

  Angela promoted Commander Dale Willits to Captain with a special ceremony, one that brought his lover, his mate, Nance, to Commander level. They were a pair, and, once again, it would not be fair to separate them by more than one rank. Besides, Nance had proven herself again and again in desperate times.

  -----

  So now, Angela found herself in overview, simply by not walking the bridge. At first she chafed, but soon became busy enough sorting myriad communications, conducting heavy analysis and everything else. Some came from those below her station, some from the Council. Jack, the lucky stiff, was off driving, redesigning, or building better space fighters. Still. Angela smiled at the old saying, You can call him King, she thought, but you can’t take him off the horse!

  -----

  Several months later, the call came, “INTRUDERS. ALL HANDS BATTLE STATIONS!” With the klaxons, the command was repeated twice more. As sound does not travel in space, the inner noise would not wake a soul outside of Resolute.

  Even though Angela was now elevated off the bridge, she immediately slipped on robe and slippers, fastening her straps on her safety chair at the desk in her room. All the vids that stood duty in the bridge were there for her to see. And there, damn it, coming right at them, twelve large bogeys, still several million miles out, but they were already identified as Zephroan. For a moment, she nearly panicked. They were not running away from the hated Zephroan, they were running head on into them!

  It was all Angela could to not to race to the bridge and lay out the commands, but Captain Willits was experienced and a damned good tactician.

  In fact, when the fighting started, she heard him command the coalition of fighter wings to slip farther out into nearly a formation nearly a million miles wide. With their advanced weapons and those of Resolute, the Zephroan should end their voyage, here and now.

  Willits had no choice but to lose flight speed, quickly, for the combined speed as they approached each other was better than fifteen light speed. Though the Zephroan would not slow until too late, the Resolute and crew had to take hard action. Restraints helped.

  The Resolute command staff elected to confront the Zephroan by surprise, nearly a wall of deadly lasers. Willits ordered, on the encrypted channel, “All units, power laser, wide beam. Fire only on my count, three, two, one, FIRE! Use photon beam for mop up to clear the way, but do not change course.”

  While he spoke this last part, the system was handling the battle for all units. And it was, indeed, a wall of laser light and photons that met the Zephroan units just before the Resolute and company sailed through.

  The Zephroan were coming from somewhere that they had perhaps been successful. They were apparently asleep, or at least not paying attention. As they had before, they kept coming, in formation, and into the wall of death.

  Since there was not yet any type of debris in empty space, it looked like nothing happened. But almost immediately, seven of the twelve Zephroan vessels went to dust.

  Four more were crippled and either rolling uselessly like barrels, or tumbling end over end. A quick cleanup of photon beams finished all but the one who had turned tail and began a heated race to escape.

  But Resolute and her fighters were already at a little over light speed, and the Zephroan ship was turned end for end and lighting up the big engines. But that would make it almost dead stop to light speed, and in so doing, Resolute almost ran right up to the back end of it, and at one hundred sixty thousand miles took the thing out. Only dust remained as the fleet sailed through the battleground. The battle had, as usual, lasted less than a minute…

  Angela, heart in her throat, and that pounding fiercely, was overjoyed to see how efficient the Navy had become. But there remained a nagging question.

  The Zephroan ‘ate’ lifeforms and metal for energy. Where were they coming from? As they were nose to nose with each other, the Zephroan were coming from Angela’s targeted unknown solar system that they were heading into!

  “Not again, please, God!” Angela whispered aloud.

  -----

  Many more month
s flew by. They got the entire force up to four and a half light speed, the best the fighters could do, but it helped.

  Brandon, a fine looking, husky young man, almost as tall as his father, made it a point to eat dinner at ‘home’ every week, at least once. An advantage to an Academy in a captured vault. He carried his father’s violet eyes, and his mother’s raven hair, which, of course, he kept close cropped. It was during his fourth out of five years that he dropped the ‘bomb.’

  Carefully placing his bread knife across his plate, as he had been taught by his mother, he took a deep breath, then looked at his parents.

  He said, almost abruptly, “I don’t like the military life, mother. I don’t like taking orders from people who are not making sense. I want to go into politics, but with a science background. Is that foolish?”

  Nothing Brandon Calmone-Morgan had ever done or said was foolish. Both parents recognized his superior intellect, and yes, there were a few really smart people who stayed in the ranks. If they did, most of them moved toward the top, but even then, there were those who just got in the way.

  Angela put down her own fork, paused, assembling her thoughts, and then, gently replied, “No, Brandon, far from foolish. But you are almost through the academy. I would say that you dare not be known as a quitter. Or, have it said that you washed out. In politics, that will come to haunt you. I’d advise you, and I am sure your father agrees, that you finish the academy, thereby proving you could have a commission, and then you can refuse it. We are behind you all the way.”

  Jack, ignoring the fact that this important discussion was directed at Angela, and not him, put a hand on his son’s shoulder, sitting next to him, and added, “She’s right, you know. Stick it out. It is annoying, but it builds character, and it gives you a place to start. A foundation, and a good one. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, for you are a star, and you can graduate with ease. Keep your temper, keep quiet, but do well. You will see, we are correct in guiding you through this.”

  Brandon finished the Academy, top of his class, and refused the commission, as suggested. Everyone who knew him, or knew of him was stunned. This was a man capable of being a Naval rising star. He was the first male Morgan in Resolute history to reject a commission!

  Instead, he attended Resolute University, staffed by top scientists and educators for the following four years.

  Next, he was on to advanced degrees, his Master of Science, then a Ph.D. in political science, but he did not stop there. His mother began to wonder if they had a perennial student in hand. He was still living at home, but then, that had been the accepted norm for several hundred years, even on Earth. He earned another Ph.D. in international relationships.

  Now, keep in mind that Resolute was a homogenous population. They still had roots in their old countries. They would certainly spread out over a new world, and it was expected that new countries, new sovereign states would develop. Still, he went all out, everything, always, at the top of the class.

  But he was never smug, always warm and helpful. Someday, Angela knew, Brandon would sit at the top of the Council, one of the great High Council leaders. Everything the young man did was to improve himself, or improve the conditions on board Resolute.

  If fact, in light of his parent’s aging status, despite their still phenomenal conditioning, he began to put forth a grass roots political movement to do away with forced euthanasia, allowed only by request of terminally ill patients. Most of the population was young ones, middle ones, and roughly twenty percent rapidly aging people, and this would help retain wisdom to avoid past mistakes.

  It passed the Council law with flying colors. It helped that every Council member was well above sixty-five years of age.

  CHAPTER 3

  Remember, always, time flies. As we age, it seems to accelerate, and what seemed like forever to get to fifty, from a kid’s point of view, seems like overnight to skip from that fifty to seventy.

  However, other than Brandon’s school successes, it was an uncharted, now uneventful trip, as the original flight from the moon had been. Mostly. Jack and Angela resolved to stick it out, long as possible, but hell, it could be a few more generations, despite the amazing speed at which they traveled.

  Friend had given them no clue to the distance or the time, he, or it, had merely shot them off in the right direction. They hoped. Well, that and they trusted.

  Jack soon recognized that speed and age do not mix. When he had hit sixty, he had given up flying, admitting that his reflexes had slowed. Like many an aging warrior, he had wisdom to spare, and he turned his attention to making this the best damned Navy that humans had ever known.

  Now, just turning seventy, he was still promoting ideas, but the younger generation was beginning to feel him too retro, too much in the past. His great ideas had been surpassed, and surprising to himself, he often had to struggle to articulate what he wanted done. It happens.

  Then, later, as Angela teased him about it, he strangely became distrustful of his computer system, every computer system. That, too, was a sure sign of aging. Or something else and Angela watched him, carefully. She loved him, dearly, knew him more than enough to see the signs of trouble.

  -----

  Only a couple of years later, as she approached seventy and Jack was just over seventy-two, both feeling it, despite their constant, albeit less strenuous workouts, the council invited Angela to her last command meeting, with Jack in attendance.

  Rollander was ill with something the doctors could not identify, was in the hospital, and had resigned. He had elected to accept euthanasia, something the terminally ill could do.

  People suspected it might have to do with the constant presence of drugs on board this huge community. The cruel drugs were ecstatic addictions, but demanded a high price. In fact, the most common side effects had to do with destruction of the organs. It was a guess.

  His last request as High Council was to proclaim Jack the new High Council and Angela to sit on the Council with him. Despite their differences over the years, he respected both, knowing their determination to improve Resolute, keep it safe, and help it along the path set by Friend. No one else, in his estimation, came close. But, there was a catch. To accept, to avoid the appearance of tyranny, both of them had to give up their rank. He did not accept no for an answer.

  Naval retired, Admiral and Vice Admiral became civilians.

  For once, Angela, who hated politics for so many years, saw a way to still influence the doings of Resolute, and with Jack there to hold her hand, she decided it was time.

  They had very good people on the bridge, talented warriors with experience, and an almost invincible battleship. She was unnecessary.

  True, Lena Morgan had risen to Captain on the flight deck, leading nearly a hundred fighters in the constant flurry to protect the Resolute. Jack, too, was unnecessary.

  Jack was not so sure, but he accepted at her urging. He was, after all, giving up his baby, the UE Air Navy he had so beautifully crafted around Resolute.

  So now, they sat the Council, sharing that accumulated wisdom, but with the power to make things happen. Or prevent the not so wise from killing themselves and everyone on Resolute with them…

  Soon, both thought that they could see the end of the tunnel… and there was no light waiting there. It was a poignant day when they recognized that the race was coming to a close…

  -----

  One afternoon, a full year after their rise in the Council, Jack came into their quarters, looking just a bit stunned, early for him. He was still handsome, perhaps a bit more lined in the face, most of his hair grey, but his beautiful, compelling eyes still vibrant.

  Angela was working an analysis chart for food needs over the next year with more than four hundred thousand souls on board. She looked up in surprise.

  “You’re home early! Oh!” She was on her feet and into his arms in a heartbeat. “What is the matter, baby?” she asked, instantly reading pain in his eyes. He was a workaholic.
If she did not remind him, now and then, he worked twenty hours straight, his teeth worrying a problem like a bulldog and his bone.

  But, this time, there was no little boy smile, and her heart sank as she sensed, deep down, this was real trouble. Her breath caught for a moment and she moved him to sit down, then sat to his side on their living room couch. She took his big hands in her smaller ones, and squeezed them, shook them, and, looking him directly in the eyes, said, gently, “Tell me.”

  He took a resigned, telling breath. Then, he said, softly, “I have been… under tests, honey. I can’t keep it a secret any longer. They think maybe too much space time, too close to deadly materials… something, honey. I have tumors. Too many. The Medicals will try to treat them… chemically. But… but it is… it may cause more damage than leaving them alone.”

  Tears sprang unwittingly to her eyes. She held him close for long minutes, her head on his chest, realizing he had not mentioned radiation treatments. She knew, but then asked, almost a whisper, “In your brain?”

  Odd for him, his head down, he sniffled, nodding. He was scared and she knew it. She embraced him, held him tighter. “Oh, baby, we can get through this. Look what we have done in our lives. Nothing will stop us!”

  “This might, Angela. This just might. I love you to pieces, but some things… well, some things may prove too much for me… for us!”

  She declared, shaking him by his shoulders, gently, “I won’t let you give up. This is a modern age, an age of miracles. We will fight this, baby!”

  He cried on her shoulder for ten minutes as she consoled him. Truth be told, tears were falling down her cheeks the whole time.

  Thus, started a whirlwind of new tests, covering many months, while the two aged lovers tried to ride out the terror. Chemotherapy, well advanced in this era, genome focused, proved useless. Well-developed laser treatments did not touch them.