by Tori Harris
“Very well,” Prescott replied, doing his best to ignore the vague sense of irritation he felt each time Rick demonstrated a level of familiarity that no one outside TFC should possess, let alone a Grey alien. “Once we’re finished here,” he continued, “I’ll make the appropriate arrangements and get back to you as quickly as possible.”
“Thank you, Captain Prescott. The discussion we mentioned and the primary reason we have chosen to visit you now is to ask that you consider undertaking a relief mission of sorts. I will provide additional details when we meet in person, but there is another Human planet in need of our immediate assistance. Due to an odd set of circumstances, Earth’s forces are the only ones capable of providing aid. I’m sure that sounds ridiculously contrived, but I think you will agree that Terran Fleet Command is uniquely positioned once I brief you on the situation. And without your help, the civilization in question — easily one of the most accomplished in the history of our species — will almost certainly be lost.”
“I’m confident we will get you an audience with our Leadership Council. Ultimately, it will be up to them to decide if it’s in our best interest to become involved. Unfortunately, during our brief time as an interstellar civilization, we seem to have a knack for being unintentionally drawn into multiple conflicts at one time.”
“Oh, you’re already involved with this one as well, you just haven’t realized it yet. The Human civilization to which I refer is one with which you have already become somewhat familiar. Although you have never met one of them in person, I think you’ll agree they have done quite a lot for Terra already. They generally refer to themselves as the Pelarans.”
“You’re saying the Pelarans need our help,” Reynolds said, phrasing her question as a statement tinged with equal parts suspicion and sarcasm.
“They do indeed, Commander. For all intents and purposes, their homeworld is under siege — and has been for a very long time, in fact. Incidentally, I believe you encountered someone earlier today who identified himself as a Regional Envoy of the Pelaran Alliance. For now, I’ll simply repeat my earlier statement that you have not yet met an actual Pelaran and leave it at that.”
Both Prescott and Reynolds stared at the screen in silence for several seconds, neither one knowing precisely how to respond.
“Anyway, I’ve kept you both long enough,” Rick continued, obviously ready to conclude the conversation. “Please make whatever arrangements are necessary and join us at your Yucca Mountain facility. We do ask, however, that you proceed as quickly as possible. Since your Guardian was aware of our arrival in the Terran system, we must assume that others probably are as well. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention that we have another guest aboard our ship who is most anxious to see you. Have a safe trip to the surface.”
“Transmission terminated at its source, Captain,” Lieutenant Dubashi reported as the window previously displaying Rick’s face was once again replaced by a spectacular magnified view of the American Southwest on the bridge view screen. “We’re on standby to rejoin Captain Oshiro’s vidcon, but not currently transmitting.”
“Alright,” Prescott said, addressing everyone on the bridge after a brief period of silence, “I’m not sure what to make of any of what we just heard, but — fortunately, in this case — none of us is at the top of Fleet’s food chain. So the burden of deciding precisely what we should do next rests on the Admiralty staff and the Leadership Council. Commander Reynolds and I will excuse ourselves for a few minutes to rejoin the vidcon with Admiral Sexton, and we’ll update all of you on what we’re doing as soon as we know something ourselves. In the meantime, Dubashi, please give Commander Logan and Doctor Chen a heads up that we may need both of them to join us for a trip over to the Greys’ …”
Prescott hesitated, distracted by the multiple lines of thought running though his mind, each one actively competing for his undivided attention.
“Flying saucer, sir?” Fisher interjected with barely restrained glee.
“Thank you, Ensign. Yes, that’s as good a description as any, I guess.”
“Aye, sir,” Dubashi replied.
“Lieutenant Lau, keep a close eye on Argus and let us know immediately if you notice anything unusual, particularly any signs of our Pelaran friends.”
“Aye, sir, will do — assuming we can see them coming, that is,” he replied.
“Lieutenant Lee, you have the bridge.”
“Aye, sir,” Lee replied, excitement registering in his voice as he stood to take his place at one of the Command consoles for the first time.
Before entering the captain’s ready room, Reynolds paused to watch the young lieutenant take his seat. Everyone seemed to go through a similar ritual when they sat down in “the big chair” for the first time, their senses taking in the various sensations of the experience while simultaneously comparing it to their preconceived expectations. As Lee settled into the chair and entered his first tentative commands at his touchscreen, he noticed the XO watching him out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, he thought he noticed a passing hint of a smile on her face before it was quickly replaced with a much more serious expression.
“She’s still pretty new, Lieutenant. Don’t break anything,” she said with a quick wink.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied as she turned and left the bridge.
Chapter 3
Legara System Lagrange Point 4
(1250 light years from Earth)
It had already been a long day for the Krayleck captain in command of the weapons platform situated in close proximity to his homeworld of Legara. Although his unit had long referred to themselves as “Defenders of the Guardian,” a tour of duty on the station was generally considered a rather cush, noncombat assignment. The Krayleck were, after all, a powerful empire in their own right, and if that fact weren’t sufficient to deter any aggressor, they were also backed by the overwhelming might of the Pelaran Alliance, of which they had long been a Regional Partner. So while it was true that the station was tasked with defending high-value military and commercial space assets — including the Krayleck Guardian itself — no one seriously considered an attack on those assets a likely scenario.
All of that had changed just a few hours ago, although the specifics of what had transpired in the Legara system were still not entirely clear. What the captain did know was that a small, Terran warship — not much larger than a patrol corvette, but clearly in possession of vastly more firepower and other advanced capabilities — had appeared nearby without warning. Shortly thereafter, it had been fired upon by several ships assigned to the Krayleck “Home Guard.” The Terran ship had, of course, returned fire, then disappeared from every sensor the captain had at his disposal, only to reappear moments later in a different location. This cycle had repeated itself several times before the ship finally transitioned to hyperspace and, thankfully, had not returned. As far as he could tell, neither his station nor any of the five Home Guard warships had inflicted any damage whatsoever on the enemy vessel.
Analysis of the Terran attack was still ongoing, but, astoundingly, it appeared the ship had fired only three rounds — undoubtedly kinetic energy penetrators of some sort, traveling at a significant percentage of the speed of light. All three had passed completely through the nearest frigate, then continued on to impact a destroyer, causing catastrophic damage to both. Rescuing the few remaining survivors from the charred hulks of both ships had consumed most of his attention since, but the old captain knew that attempting to prepare for another attack was largely a waste of his time anyway. In his many years of service, he had never encountered, nor yet even heard rumors of ships carrying weapons of such terrifying power. And after two disastrous military encounters with Terran forces, it was clear to him that further confrontation would lead to nothing less than the utter destruction of the Krayleck Empire.
Then there was the Guardian ship. Though always unpredictable, its behavior during the Terran incursion was strange indeed. The GCS had made no attempt t
o engage the enemy ship, even after its attack on Krayleck forces. What good is a “guardian” that lacks a fundamental understanding of what it means to “guard” something? he wondered. To top it all off, immediately before the Terran vessel had departed the area, their own Guardian spacecraft had done the same. Inexplicably, just a few minutes later but well after all hostilities had concluded, the Krayleck Guardian had returned. Now that he had a few moments to consider the situation, the captain wondered if they had all just witnessed the AI-equivalent of cowardice followed by desertion, or, worse yet, some sort of collusion with enemy forces.
“Contact,” a young lieutenant called from a nearby Tactical console.
“Is it the Terran ship?”
“No, sir. It is roughly the same size, but our sensors are having less difficulty tracking it. One moment, Captain, the ship is transmitting Pelaran identification codes … validated, sir. The vessel is of Pelaran origin.”
“Friendly or not, this area is currently considered an active combat zone with ongoing search and rescue operations underway. We must determine its intentions immediately. Comm?”
“Aye, sir, hailing now.”
The largest view screen in the weapons platform’s command section now displayed a zoomed-in, light-amplified image of the Pelaran ship. Its rakish, fighter-like lines actually did resemble the previous Terran vessel in some respects as it banked to port and accelerated rapidly away in the direction of the Guardian spacecraft. The Krayleck captain, for his part, stared impassively at the screen, patiently awaiting a response to his hail. Inwardly, however, he was irritated at his own sense of relief that the ship on the screen was Pelaran, rather than Terran.
“No response to our hails, Captain,” the communications officer reported.
“Understood. You may continue your hails, but it would not surprise me if they do not bother to respond. Per the Alliance charter, the Pelarans are allowed unrestricted access to their own ships, including the Guardian. But I believe we can safely assume this visit has something to do with what transpired here this morning. To my knowledge, they have never before sent one of their ships into the Legara system other than the GCS itself.”
Minutes later, the new Pelaran ship had narrowed the distance to the Krayleck Guardian to within twenty meters, aligning the two vessels’ hulls with one another as if it intended to execute an EVA servicing mission of some sort.
“The Pelaran vessel has responded to our hails, Captain, but did not choose to open a channel. The response is text-only, sir, and reads as follows: ‘We require the use of your GCS unit for a mission of grave importance to the Alliance. The anticipated duration of this mission is less than one week, after which the system will be serviced and returned to this location to continue its service to the Krayleck Empire. Rest assured we will be monitoring activity in the vicinity of the Legara system and will render aid in the event of another incursion from Terran or other hostile forces. The Alliance recognizes and honors your service as a Regional Partner. Respectfully, Verge Tahiri - Regional Envoy, Pelaran Alliance.’”
On the view screen, the space surrounding both the Pelaran vessel and the Guardian spacecraft seemed to distort momentarily before both ships disappeared in a single flash of blue light. The Krayleck captain continued to stare thoughtfully at the screen for several seconds, his mouthparts dripping brown liquid into the metal grate covering the floor of the command section. Although he remained silent, a long stream of expletives unique to his species streamed through his mind, followed by a solemn oath in the name of his chosen deity that he would retire from active duty service at the first opportunity.
Earth, Terran Fleet Command Headquarters
(Office of the Chairwoman, TFC Leadership Council)
“It’s out of the question,” Lisbeth Kistler said flatly as she stood staring out the large windows that formed one of the walls of her office. “These … ‘Greys,’ or whatever the hell they are — I’m not sure I’m buying into the notion that they’re genetically modified Humans, by the way — have already admitted they’ve been abducting our people for … well, forever. Regardless of whether or not that’s true, I’d like someone to explain to me how it makes any sense to allow four of our officers to simply walk up and voluntarily turn themselves over to an alien species we know almost nothing about.”
The Chairwoman’s comments were followed by a long silence, both inside her office and among the group of officers and Leadership Council representatives (now limited to the three members of the Military Operations Oversight Committee) participating in the vidcon. While none of the other attendees seemed willing to commit themselves so early in the discussion, Admiral Sexton understood all too well that, on occasion, there was a need for someone to play the role of “devil’s advocate” long enough to get things moving.
“Chairwoman Kistler,” he began, using a formal tone that still seemed odd when addressing his old friend, “I understand your hesitation, but I feel obliged to point out the fact that we may not have a great deal of choice in the matter. While the aliens have not yet provided much in the way of proof to back up most of what they’ve told us, they have, nevertheless, demonstrated a level of technological superiority that seems to support their claims. In addition, they have taken no overtly hostile actions thus far. Right now, I don’t think it’s in our best interest to be uncooperative or do anything that might lead them to believe we are the ones with hostile intent.”
“You know very well how much I dislike the ‘we have no other choice’ argument, Admiral,” she shot back, clearly irritated by his assertion. “We always have a choice. And if our so-called guests do anything we consider hostile, I want you prepared to bury their bug-eyed, skinny little asses under Yucca Mountain.” Kistler paused for emphasis, casting an unmistakably defiant glare around the room. “If they were telling the truth about eavesdropping on our comms, hopefully they will keep what I just said in mind and behave themselves accordingly,” she added for good measure.
Sexton waited a moment in hopes the Chairwoman would not take what he said next as overly argumentative. He had known Kistler long enough to realize she meant what she said, and after everything Humanity had been through over the past year, there was simply no way she was going to allow a pair of Grey aliens to strong-arm TFC into a course of action not of their choosing.
“Yes, ma’am, we certainly can and will be prepared to act, if necessary,” he said, nodding his head reassuringly. “But I also think it’s safe to assume they were very much aware this was the case when they arrived. So, even though we may not be comfortable with their entering our Yucca Mountain Facility without bothering to ask for permission, the fact that they did so willingly could also be interpreted as an act of submission and/or trust. In other words, they intentionally placed themselves in an inferior tactical position for our benefit. Besides, if their intention was to simply make off with the Fugitive’s senior officers, I’m guessing they could have easily done so at any time.”
“I thought about that,” Kistler replied in a calmer tone, “but I’m not entirely sure that’s the case. Prescott’s crew has been continuously in space longer than any other. And each of the three ships to which he has been assigned has been randomly C-Jumping all over this region of space for the past year. It occurs to me it might have been pretty difficult for the Greys to pin down his location long enough to do whatever it is they do, regardless of how advanced their technology may be.”
Kistler sighed as she returned from the windows and slumped wearily into her leather chair. “I apologize for my tone,” she said after a moment’s reflection. “Look, I know we’re all exhausted, and I’m sure I’m sounding more than a little paranoid here, but am I the only one who finds these two a little … creepy, for lack of a better term?”
There was a smattering of laughter among the attendees, instantly relieving much of the tension in the room.
“I wouldn’t call them creepy so much as just plain weird,” the representative from the
United States, Samuel Christenson, chimed in. “They remind me of a couple of pothead college kids on an extended road trip,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “But I will say that when they mentioned having some sort of ‘guest’ aboard, I immediately assumed they had picked someone up who didn’t necessarily want to be picked up. Before that, I think I could have argued the case either way for allowing Captain Prescott’s team to go aboard — assuming they’re willing, of course. But if we believe Rick is telling the truth about having taken someone else we know aboard their ship, I think that tips the scales in my mind.”
“That’s a good point, Sam,” Kistler replied. “Captain Prescott, based on everything you’ve heard, are you and your senior officers willing to volunteer to do this? Before you answer, let me stress the word ‘volunteer.’ This is not something we will ask any of you to do if you’re not comfortable doing so.”
“Yes, ma’am, we are. Well … at the very least, Commander Reynolds and I are. We will, of course, stress the voluntary nature of the mission to Commander Logan and Dr. Chen, but I have a high degree of confidence they will also be more than willing.”
“For the record, let me state the obvious fact that Dr. Chen is a civilian member of Fleet Medical, so I want the two of you to be very explicit when you communicate to her that she is under no obligation to participate, and it will not be held against her in any way if she declines.”
“Understood, ma’am, but I can tell you that once we offer her the opportunity, I don’t think any of us would be able to prevent her from going if we tried.”
Kistler stared at Admiral Sexton for a moment, tapping her index finger on the top of her desk as if still unsure they were making the right decision. “Alright, assuming this is what we’re doing, what about the Guardian? Clearly, it’s not a good idea to leave it aboard the Fugitive, but what’s it likely to do when we release it?”