Assault on Cambriol: The Manhattan Trials

by Jerry Borrowman

  Eaves contemplated the plan. “Of course, if we miss the shot, we’ll be sucked into the gravitational field ourselves and beat Jesik and the others to an early demise.”

  They looked at each other apprehensively, then said, almost in unison, “What the heck, let’s go for it!” With the tension broken, Eaves placed his hands on the Forward Thrusters Control and confidently shoved it to maximum.

  * * *

  So it is, then, that the “Legend of the Lexus” was born. Not until hours later did the boys learn that because of bureaucratic maneuverings, nothing could be launched from the planet in time to avoid a disruption to the Kalenden orbit. Even if the planet lived through the fusion of the fragment with the star, the people would have to abandon their homes in a full planet evacuation as the fragment was clearly destined to end all biological life in this sector.

  It was the boy’s attack that prompted the crew of the Lentissimo to look on in stunned disbelief as the tiny mini-cruiser came shooting past their starboard bow on a direct collision course with the fragment. But when they launched their two tiny, dust-devil torpedoes, with an unusual explosive pattern set to destabilize the fragment, Jesik stared in awe. Then he did his very best to keep his head from being torn from his neck as the explosion of the fragment sent the Lentissimo hurling across two parsecs of space, end-over-end the whole way. The crew was ultimately disoriented and bruised when it was over, but, miraculously, everyone was still alive.

  The success of the attack was the source of the legend of the two young truants who were dazzled twice in the same day; once by a dazzle blast and the second by the largest explosion ever recorded in the Kalenden Quadrant. After regaining consciousness, Ensign Magill was embarrassed to realize that, in the heat of the moment, he’d misplaced the decimal point when calculating the explosive power of an ultra-high density fragment de-stabilizing and disappearing into an alternate universe. In fact, the fragment’s disappearance became an important part of the legend. Quantum analysis indicated the probability was extremely high that the unusual pattern of the fragment’s flaw made it prone to bounce from one parallel universe to another with some regularity, which is why it had not been detected earlier. And “alternate universe” theories suggested it was even possible that two teenagers in an adjoining reality had used the very same ploy to send it into this universe.

  In the end it was a very good thing that the fragment chose that exit route, rather than simply exploding in this universe. If the full force of the blast had been absorbed exclusively in this universe, they wouldn’t have had to worry about saving the planet, or even the entire solar system, for that matter. They would simply have all been blasted into oblivion before anyone knew what hit them.

  Adding to the mystique of this modest assault was the twisted wreckage of their mini-cruiser, which ended up looking like it had been sucked backwards through the wrong end of a black hole. It was put on permanent display at the Sector Control Military Museum, where children and their parent’s marvel that anyone could survive in that tangled mass of once shiny metal.

  It’s often a short distance between rogue and hero and sometimes it takes just one event in a lifetime to turn an otherwise self-centered, insignificant individual into a great leader. Without their modest assault on Cambriol, the distinguished military, diplomatic and scientific careers of Travis Eaves and Sean Magill might never have been.

  It was also the end of exile for Captain Pietr Jesik, who, by virtue of his “Valor and Honor,” restored luster to the Boundary Patrol. Since politicians love heroes, his became one of the most recognized faces in the service.

  Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad day, after all.

  1 - Matter of Paternity

  “Thank you, Mr. Williams, I’ll take it at the Science Station. Please invoke a privacy field.”

  Williams, the ship’s Communications Officer, looked around the spacious bridge of the Allegro, the newest and most powerful battleship in the fleet. It still seemed miraculous that after the Cambriol incident the entire crew of the Lentissimo had been transferred as a single unit under the command of Captain Pietr Jesik. That was four years ago. Our reward for saving the folks at Fleet Headquarters. Amazing what a little political favor can do for a crew’s fortunes.

  The Lentissimo had been so badly damaged by the blast of the fragment and its subsequent tumble through space, that the instrument array was permanently scrambled, the hull pitted and dented like a brass tuba in a high school band, and the forward thrusters crippled beyond recognition. It made sense to de-commission the ship a few years early, rather than undertake the extensive repairs required to make her space worthy again.

  Still, Williams thought, it was sad to watch her final departure out of the space dock at the official de-commissioning ceremony.

  There had been two incredible results of the ship’s final ordeal at Cambriol. The hull stresses had exceed maximum tolerances by more than 600% -- making it statistically impossible that anyone onboard could survive. Yet, aside from cuts, bruises, and broken limbs, not a single member of the crew had died. Little wonder they felt so attached to the ship. As a sign of respect for saving the Kalenden System, Fleet Command authorized the ancient practice of sending an honorably dented and bruised, but still operational ship, on a final voyage into the gravitational field of the Kalenden star itself. A more practical and usual procedure was to salvage all useable instruments and parts and then recycle the alinite hull for future use. Since alinite was such an expensive alloy and Fleet Command so uncommonly stingy, it really was a remarkable honor for the ship.

  Williams leaned back in his chair and recalled the ceremony. Impressive and solemn, it was very moving when Captain Jesik pressed the remote control activator to start the ship on its final voyage while Commander Brighton read lines from an old star mariner poem, “Descent Into Eternity,”

  “What magnificent fate

  For a ship that dies,

  ‘Mid nuclear fires and furnace seared

  A final plunge to the heart of a star,

  Where none return, or feel to mourn”

  (author unknown)

  Williams smiled at the memory of the onboard video cameras returning vivid images until the monitor flared its brightest hue and went dark. The real show of the final voyage occurred in the eastern sky above Kalenden’s main continent where the sparkling silver hull reflected the brilliant fires of the star with such radiance that people swore it blinded spectators who were foolish enough to look with unprotected eyes. Next came the explosion of the alinite hull, which disintegrated with an effect equal to a nuclear explosion. And since the ship exploded before its image merged with the star itself, for a brief moment it was like having two stars in the sky. After the initial flash, which lit the evening sky for nearly two minutes, the decaying cloud looked like a gaping, reddish wound radiating out from the star. It was both beautiful and terrible to think that humans could create an effect as brilliant.

  As a deck officer he had been given a spot of honor on the reviewing stand, along with members of the Quadrant Council itself. “A fine day!” he reflected with satisfaction. His self-congratulatory revelry was disturbed by the Helmsman, Kevin Wight, who had been checking bearings against a nearby Interplanetary Positioning buoy. “Wow, I’ve never seen Commander Brighton’s face so flushed – what do you think he’s talking about?”

  Williams glanced up in time to see the normally unflappable Brighton raise both hands to his forehead, cover his eyes, then slap them back down to his side. “That is unusual,” he said. “All I know is that the call came from the Tatrion System, re-routed a couple of times to obscure its precise origin.”

  The privacy field blocked out any sound and actually created a visual blurring of Brighton’s mouth movements to throw off any would-be lip readers. But, it couldn’t block out the fact that he was agitated. Or, perhaps a better word would be angry.

  The call ended abruptly and Brighton made a slicing motion across his neck. Williams imm
ediately terminated the privacy field.

  “Mr. Gentry, please stand forward as Officer of the Bridge. Lieutenant Commander Gentry was the Weapons officer and a formidable individual. “Lieutenant Williams, thank you for the communications-link. Follow protocol for a Level-6 message and destroy all record of this transmission, immediately.”

  “Yes, Sir!” The reminder was quite unnecessary, since Williams knew better than to hang on to a Level-6. It was a court-martial offense, for crying out loud.

  “First Officer leaving the bridge,” said Alec Gentry in his sonorous voice as he left the weapons console to sit in the Captain’s chair.

  “Wow, again,” Williams muttered as the transport tube doors closed. “Whatever it is, it certainly has thrown the Commander off-horizon.”

  The Helmsman was about to respond, but his witty reply was cut short, falling victim to Gentry’s terse, “Cut the banter, gentlemen and return to your duties!”

  Those weapons guys have no sense of curiosity, Williams thought as he turned back to his console.

  In his private quarters, Brighton ordered some anteberry tea which materialized a few moments later. “This can’t be happening,” he muttered into the cup, though it didn’t seem to care. How could she be so careless and how could I be so stupid? He walked to his bed, slipped off his trousers and shirt and laid down on the cool bedspread. Addressing the ceiling, “Please display my personal file on Sondra Vivendel.”

  A three-dimensional image of Sondra appeared at the foot of his bed as the metallic voice of the computer intoned, “Sondra Vivendel, resident of Tatrius. Female age 32, a ceramics and metal alloy engineer. Graduate of the Tatrius Engineering Institute with a PhD. in metallurgy.”

  “Personal background on subject?”

  “Subject is single, no children. She lives in the Coltrax district of the capitol city. Address and communications profile protected by privacy regulations.”

  “Display all photos in the file, three second delay.”

  The air was filled with various three-dimensional images of Sondra Vivendel that she had posted through the years, starting as a chubby baby, growing into a stocky teenager, turning into an attractive, well-muscled adult. Cursed gravity on Tatrius. It’s no wonder she could beat anyone on the Allegro in a leg wrestle. Why did I decide to go back to her apartment that night? He rubbed his temples with the palms of his hands and closed his eyes. It didn’t help though, for he still saw her in his mind. He also knew why he went home with her that night; she was available, he’d been drinking the local brew, and it seemed like such a great idea at the time. “Who’d have guessed we’d spend the next two days and nights in her apartment?” He opened his eyes, saw an image of Sondra in a bathing suit and moaned. He slumped back onto the pillow.

  It’s the stupid rules on Kalenden – they make me crazy. At least whenever I manage to escape their tentacles. Sondra wasn’t the first woman he’d worked his charms with. In fact, he’d often been able to attract some breathtakingly beautiful women. Certainly not a Lothario, but accomplished nonetheless.

  But, Sondra had been different. Her athleticism, good nature and, most of all, her completely non-judgmental attitudes had been truly attractive and made the days with her the best he’d ever had. She satisfied his spirit as well as his body. But, then it was over and he was gone. Their time together was great, but nothing more than a passing encounter of two people from different worlds who hoped to enjoy some companionship and create some pleasant memories.

  Of all the planets to be born on, my parents chose Kalenden! The star system Brighton was born into was complex, occupied by former Earth residents who emigrated from Earth for various social and economic regions. The major players were Kalenden, which was inhabited by social conservatives who kept a tight lid on sexual mores, Tatrius, a small, but liberal trading post between major star systems, Alturus, a major planet that had been out-of-contact with Kalenden for nearly 100 years because of social divisions, and Keswick, a small planetoid on the border between Kalenden and Alturus that was unusually endowed with key minerals that were used to supply the fuel for interplanetary travel. Beyond that were dozens of other planets, all of which had to be monitored, but none that posed an immediate threat to Kalenden. When residents of Kalenden wanted to escape for a week or two of unmonitored fun (leading to debauchery) it was off to Tatrius they went.

  Pleasant memories are fine, but who said anything about making a baby! He moaned again. How could she be pregnant? She seemed a woman of the world, so why wouldn’t she be prepared? And what did she mean when she said “Don’t worry, Tom, you won’t have to be involved in our lives at all. It’s acceptable to be a single parent on Tatrius – we’re not like the people of Kalenden.” Her sarcasm was not becoming.

  He rolled onto his side and felt the silky smoothness of the Ethereon bed sheet brush against his face. Ah, Kalenden, my home and nursemaid. The most conservative planet in the known universe, where boys and girls are chaste and men and women marry before starting a family. Actually, he liked the idea that people marry to have children. He looked at the nearly empty glass in his hand and said, “Kids need both a father and a mother, or something’s missing from their lives.” He smiled at the glass, which continued to listen patiently. “The thing that gets me into trouble is my belief that it’s okay to practice, a little, before marriage.”

  Trouble. As an officer and gentlemen it was presumed that he would never degrade the honor of a woman by “cleaving to her” outside of marriage. Kalenden Fleet rules stated clearly that “an officer convicted of fornication or adultery is subject to severe penalties, including reduction of rank or dishonorable discharge from the service.” The rules were seldom enforced, though, because no one really followed anyone around to see where they were going. But, a baby was pretty difficult to slip past the unofficial “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy of the fleet.

  He sat up in bed, pushed against the membrane of the Conformagel mattress and stood up to pace around the room.

  Okay, you’ve gotta get hold of yourself, Thomas. Maybe a good way to start would be to stop talking to yourself.

  It didn’t work. This kind of conversation needed two voices and he didn’t want anyone but his own brain and vocal chords to know what was going on. He strode silently across the room, turned and came back. She’s an alien from a society considered a moral rogue by the Kalenden Quadrant Council and that’s good since it precludes a Courts Martial. You can only go to jail for getting a girl from the Kalenden System pregnant. He’d always been careful on that score, saving his liaisons for trips out of the Quadrant into one of the neighboring systems. Of course a lot of starmen did that – it was probably one of the greatest enticements to enlist, (although the officer corps would deny it with all the righteous indignation they could muster if ever spoken publicly). If anyone finds out about Sondra, it can still cause a mandatory freeze in grade for two years. Which means it will be at least two years before I’ll be offered my own command anyway, so that’s not so bad.

  His pacing slowed and he sat down in his easy chair. The heated gel membrane swelled up around his back, arms, and thighs so that he was supported perfectly at all points of contact. He settled back, the chair instantly adjusting to his new preference. He put his arms behind his head and thought, If I can just figure how to keep this quiet, it’ll have no effect at all on my career. After all, Sondra said she really doesn’t want to marry me, so why should I press the matter?

  There was a reason, but this wasn’t the time to think about it. It would only weaken his resolve to distance himself from the woman and her child.

  He spoke up in the authoritative voice that told the ever-listening computer he was about to issue a command. “Please signal the Communications Officer.” He pulled on sweatpants as William’s face materialized. “Mr. Williams, I need to place a confidential contact, Security Level-6. Will you please arrange a privacy field for my quarters and connect a patch through to Tatrius?”

 
“Right away, Sir.” Williams looked curious.

  “Let me know when you’re ready.”

  Williams face disappeared, obviously disappointed.

  Biggest gossip on the ship and he’s planted in Communications.

  Oh, well, Brighton would be allowed to privately enter the local communications address line once the interstellar link was completed through to Tatrius.

  The distance between star systems was so great that communication links were impossible to connect without the assistance of multiple operators spread across hundreds of light years. When the vortex drive was first discovered centuries earlier, humankind had been thrilled at the opportunity of escaping to distant stars where they could colonize and create new societies based on their preferred social conventions. It was calculated that the vortex drive could open one-one thousandth of the Milky Way Galaxy to exploration and still hold people within ten years travel time back to the home planet, Earth. For some reason, that proximity seemed really important to the early settlers. They’d imagined a great confederation of humans linked back to earth and the need for a single alliance was taken for granted since a belief in “Unidentified Flying Objects” convinced the majority that their new ability to travel to the stars would bring them in contact with alien races hostile to incursions from earth.

  “Aliens and UFOs” Brighton muttered. “Little did they know just how empty space is. In four hundred years we’ve never encountered so much as a flint arrowhead on any of the thousand or so planets we’ve charted. It appears human evolution, or creation, was an isolated event, after all. Or, at least no other species in this corner of the galaxy have the means or interest to look for us.”

  In the absence of an external threat, the grand alliance never materialized and the vast distances effectively isolated each star system to its own government and laws. Adjoining systems formed Quadrants and adjoining quadrants promoted interstellar commerce, but few political contacts. Tatrion was a star system at the border of a neighboring quadrant and therefore immune to Kalenden laws. It wasn’t allied with any Quadrant. Its home planet, Tatrius, was a reliable trading partner, but much too socially liberal for Kalenden taste.