Again? David found that curious, but didn’t ask about it as James fell silent.
Through the silence, David considered his request carefully. On the one hand, the Carpathia was a fine ship, top-of-the-line, having just completed its trial-runs and shakedown. The Rhode Island, identical to the Carpathia, was still a few months away from being completed.
“I really had my heart set on the Rhode Island, James,” he said.
“I know, Dave, and if you’re set on taking her, I’ll find someone else.” James smiled. “But I want the best available… and at the moment, you’re it.”
David nodded. He knew he’d be lucky to serve under James Hunter, whose meteoric rise through the ranks was surpassed only by his genuine skill… and luck.
On the other hand… How much do you want to command a warship? He considered that question hard. Like Hunter – and so many others – he’d signed up for self-less reasons, his command ambitions coming relatively late in his career. But now that I’m here, I really want a command again.
James sensed his apprehension. “If it helps, you’ll practically be in command anyway… I’ll have my hands full running the taskforce we’ll be heading up.” He smiled, his eyes glinting dangerously, as if he was pondering the possibilities as they spoke… which he probably was, David realized. “Eighteen warships, all charged with interdicting N’xin advances along the frontier…”
“Practically in command, you say,” David repeated, his tone taking on one of extreme thoughtfulness. Running a warship – a dreadnaught carrier, at that – with only a fraction of the official responsibility?
“What, is there an echo in here?”
David smirked as James scowled at him. “Oh, fine, very well, if I must.” He sighed theatrically, leaning back into his seat and straightening his uniform jacket.
James glowered at him, arching an eyebrow at the performance, almost as if he was unsure whether to laugh or not. He settled on the latter. “I hate you.”
*
“This is unacceptable!”
The stress of a string of losses had frayed the temperament of Kuellan Mk’bak to near breaking point as he stalked the command area of the Gilded Claw. It seemed he was the only one who could bring the Hegemony victory? In the last half-cycle he’d only been forced to retreat once… these imposters –for that’s surely what they were – that were standing before him were a mockery of everything it was to be N’xin.
In the last half-cycle, the Hegemony had lost more territory, ships and soldiers to the human scum than it had lost in the last century. A human fleet was poised to smash the mining operations on Torph’Dor; a second was within striking distance of a major colony – and the site of a major training academy. Worse, Commonwealth raiding parties were basically acting with impunity, raiding unprotected N’xin shipping at every opportunity.
The Hegemony was on the brink of losing it all. The ranks of the common soldiers – even the elites – were starting to talk of surrender… of appeasement… as if that was ever a viable alternative. Kuellan was determined to fight to the last soldier, the last female, the last hatchling…
“My lord, I offer my life as payment for my failure.”
Kuellan looked down at First Captain Lok’Nar for a long moment, the other captains gaze fixated on Lok’Nar. There was a flash of movement, a splash of brilliant violet blood, and the near-decapitated corpse fell to the deck with a heavy, lifeless thud.
“Payment accepted, Captain Lok’Nar,” Kuellan muttered. He looked at the other three captains assembled, all prostrate before him. If they had been expecting mercy, then they had come to the wrong place. Mercy eroded strength, and strength was everything to a true N’xin. “I expect all of you to do better. Failure to do so will displease me… and that is the last thing you should want!”
Minutes later Kuellan was alone, gazing out at the red-blue swirling abyss of the micro-nebula the Gilded Claw was facing. It went unnamed, being too remote and small to there being any point in the N’xin naming it. As it was, its only use to Kuellan was in clandestine meetings with what remained of his command staff.
The body of Lok’Nar had been dragged off and spaced out of an airlock. Having calmed down from his outburst, Kuellan partially regretted the summary execution – Lok’Nar had been loyal – especially to Kuellan – and reasonably efficient, having survived longer than some of his more aggressive cohorts. The failure of the Hegemony in their persecution of humanity could not be placed on the shoulders of Lok’Nar alone – he was simply the weakest link in the chain Kuellan could reach.
Still, his is an example that will hopefully inspire my troops to give more. If the execution produced better results, than the death of Lok’Nar would not have been in vain.
Chapter Two
James hated the date of July 20. It was the day his daughters had been born, and he hadn’t been with them for a single birthday in the intervening years. As their father, his absence in their life sickened him, and this year was made worse by the fact that it had crept on him, and the realization that he had forgotten all about it seriously depressed him.
Now here he was, alone, in his Ready Room, shrouded in darkness as he pondered on his ruminations. This far from a reliable FTL-booster, he was virtually cut-off from real-time communication with Bastion, and it felt like he had to wait for an eternity for his birthday wishes to reach his children.
In actuality, it was only a fourteen-hour delay to get a message to Bastion, give or take a minute or so, but those hours may as well have been weeks or months, because that’s what it felt like.
But that’s not the only reason you’re in a bad mood.
James sighed internally, his gaze flicking over the latest casualty figures. They were appalling… if you were on the other team. In the last six months, there had been eight major engagements between the Commonwealth and N’xin Hegemony. In each one, the Hegemony had been routed, fighting almost to the last man or ship.
The loss of life appalled James. No, not just the loss of life… the sheer wastefulness of it all… The concept of fighting to the last man was completely alien to James, who had always subscribed to the concept of “run away to fight another day” if the situation called for it. He could only imagine the state of morale in the Hegemony ranks at the moment – the sheer number of losses alone was staggeringly depressive. Assuming their emotions are anything like ours.
If the Commonwealth had suffered these sorts of casualties – losing tens of thousands, or hundreds of thousands, of soldiers at a time – than this war would have been over years ago. The Commonwealth would have resorted to rebelling against their conquerors than waging a war of attrition that was, like now, turning into near-genocide.
And yet… And yet, a part of me revels in this. James didn’t like the feeling, the satisfaction of lives being taken… but he couldn’t deny that he did feel that way. They have given you a great deal to justify such a feeling.
“Come!” he snapped, as his door chimed, breaking him out of his reverie – his untouched coffee was probably grateful for the reprieve from his harsh stare. The door whooshed open and David Garret stepped forward, clutching a datapad.
“Captain?” Garret squinted into the darkness, the bright white lights from the corridor beyond creating an aura behind him. “Is everything okay?”
“Darkness suits a brooding mood, David.”
“So I gathered. What are you brooding over?”
James let out an explosive sigh as he grounded himself back to reality. “Nothing.” He shrugged casually, and waved David’s comment off. “Everything. Anything.” He nodded at the datapad David carried. “What is it? New orders?”
“Not exactly. Decrypt just came in on a personal message for you,” David said, handing the datapad over. James frowned as he took it tentatively – ordinarily, he didn’t get encrypted personal messages.
“What the hell is this?” James asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion as he scrolled through the message. It w
asn’t from Jennifer, the girls, or even Troy or Adlai… not even his father, whom hadn’t spoken to him in months.
It was from Elijah… and James couldn’t even remember the last time he had spoken to him. Last Christmas? He frowned. No, a birthday. It was somebody’s birthday.
James was quiet for long moments as he read the rather lengthy message – even for Elijah, it was verbose, and poor David waited silently in the empty shadows as James read, and re-read, the contents. He didn’t understand half the technical jargon Elijah – who had two PhD’s – used… Exciting developments… potent weapon… those were words he understood, and they were important buzzwords. I’m pretty sure he’s making half of these words up.
“Would you be interested…” James smiled wistfully as he recited softly. Trust Elijah to underestimate the interest such information would generate.
“I take it this isn’t just a routine letter from the family?”
James looked up, momentarily startled – for a moment, he’d forgotten that David was still standing nearby. “Not at all,” James said absently, his attention still focused on the message. He was on his fourth reading. “I need to talk to Admiral Hawthorne.”
David cocked his head in acknowledgement. No doubt he had questions, but he was professional enough to not ask them. “I’ll get him on the horn right away.”
*
“Airlock is secure, Captain.”
James nodded absently as he looked out the starboard viewport of the bridge of the Carpathia. From this angle he had a good view of the top of the Renegade-class cruiser that sat connected to the starboard airlock of the dreadnaught.
The Endurance was truly a powerful-looking craft, with its curved, swept-down wings giving way to an armoured and angular primary hull. James had only ever been a passenger onboard such a vessel before – the Englewood had been an older, lighter contemporary.
“Fine. Tell Captain Carmichael that I’ll be aboard soon.” He turned towards the navigation station on the far side of the bridge. “How long is the Casablanca overdue?”
“Seventeen minutes, Captain.”
James swore silently. Trust Elijah to be late… all the money in the world, and he’d be late for his own funeral. Being a scientist, it wasn’t really surprising – after all, Elijah had the patience of a saint, so it would make sense that his sense of timing would be off, too.
“Captain,” the sensor officer called out. “We’ve got a Balao-class yacht entering the area, twenty thousand kilometres off the port bow.”
“About time,” James muttered, casting an amused glance at Captain Garret. The vessels IFF flashed across James’ virtual-vision, as did its clearance code, confirming its identity. “Instruct the Casablanca to dock at the starboard airlock of the Endurance, and then to dock in our portside hangar when they have off-loaded their cargo.”
Elijah Hunter’s private yacht was a graceful ship, nearly a hundred meters long, without a single sharp edge or corner. Despite not being fond of space travel, Elijah had bought it nearly thirty years earlier, preferring to ferry himself around, rather than relying on commercial ventures to get around the Commonwealth.
“How many people are aboard, Lieutenant Kim?”
“Approximately seven individuals, Captain.”
That squared with the information Elijah had transmitted to the Carpathia. James nodded at David, and then cocked his head in the direction of the aft walkway that led away from the bridge, and David fell into step with him.
“Any idea how long you’ll be gone for?”
“None at all,” James admitted. “But I’d be surprised if I’m gone for more than 72 hours… if I am, then you can raise the alarm.” He sighed as they came to the turbolift. He keyed for it. “In the meantime, continue on our assigned patrol route and wait for us in the Belaruz system.”
David nodded thoughtfully. “Do you think this test will work?”
James glanced at his First Officer, offering a confident smirk that didn’t make it to his eyes. “It’ll work.”
*
“Please tell me this will work, Elijah.”
James looked at the T-Tauri star, its glare held at bay by the viewports polarization, with growing apprehension. TW Hydrae was a young star, located in what was a remote part of the Commonwealth, fifty light-years removed from the war. The Endurance was motionless, with its prow pointed in the direction of the star, four hundred million kilometres away.
Elijah didn’t even look up from his console as he consulted with one of the four scientists who had accompanied him on the Casablanca. Dressed in typical up-scale civilian attire – suit-like , the scientists were a stark contrast to the dark Navy uniforms that surrounded them.
James caught the eye of Captain Carmichael, once again grateful that there wasn’t much of a resemblance between Jennifer and Lauren… but just enough, like now, when the light hit her hair or profile, to cause his heart to ache.
“It’ll work,” James told her reassuringly, trying to muster a smile.
Lauren did not return the smile as he sidled up next to her in the command chair. Carmichael was sitting somewhat serenely, her expression one of quiet, apprehensive contemplation. “I hope so, sir.”
“I told you not to call me sir, Captain,” James said, bouncing up and down on his heels. The first conversation they’d had when he’d reported aboard was establishing the chain-of-command for the Endurance. Lauren had been willing to cede command of her ship to him, but James had shot that down pretty quickly – he was content to command the mission, but was more than willing to allow Lauren to retain her command. “We are, after all, technically related.”
Lauren smiled, no doubt amused at the fact – after all, she was only a second-cousin to Jennifer, and nearly twenty years their junior – and watched him as he shuffled nervously about the command area. “You okay?”
“I hate low gravity environments,” James muttered – it had been more than a year since he’d served on a ship with less than 0.7 gravity, and he’d gotten used to the near 0.8 gravity he enjoyed on the Carpathia. “I nearly failed zero-g training at Basic.”
“Same here,” she said, then swivelled around to face Elijah. “Have we got an ETA, Mr. Hunter?”
That got Elijah’s attention. He pivoted on his heel and marched over to the rail that separated the aft section of the bridge with the command area, fidgeting with the belt around his waist as he did so. “Yes, it’ll work,” he said grumpily, belatedly answering her earlier question. “But not if you keep harassing me and my staff.”
“It isn’t harassment, Elijah,” James snapped, stepping forward. “How long until we can launch?”
“We’re uploading the final parameters and programming now,” his sibling said, his eyes squinting as his irises pulsed with a dim power. “We can launch in two minutes; it’ll take 21 minutes to reach the star.”
“How much distance should we put between us and the star?” Lauren asked from behind James.
“Seven hundred million kilometres should be sufficient, I would think,” Elijah said after a moment’s hesitation, no doubt as he consulted his virtual-vision. “But if we go much further than that then our readings will be compromised by all the radiation.”
James privately wondered how close they’d have to be to the star to be blind. There was enough debris in this system – which was still in the process of forming into an ordinary star system – to scramble most of the sensor systems already Becoming blind to the outside world was not tactically wise. Although they were far removed from the frontlines, James had no intention of being a sitting duck.
“Noted,” Lauren said. “Helm, once the package is launched, move us out to seven hundred million kilometres and hold position.”
James watched in silence as Elijah’s people continued their work – although most of the ground work had already been completed by the time they had departed for their rendezvous with the Carpathia and the Endurance, there were some things – such as the mass of the t
arget star, and so on – that could only be properly calculated and calibrated for on-sight.
“Probe has been launched,” Lieutenant Cortez announced – sure enough, the oversized gadget zoomed along its course, even as the Endurance banked away from the distant star and accelerated.
James felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Elijah, his earnest expression regarding him steadily. “Coffee?”
James frowned, then glanced at Lauren, who was staring at the two of them impassively from her command chair. She shrugged fractionally and turned away to talk to her First Officer, who had been overseeing the starboard stations since James had arrived on the bridge.
“Sure,” James said, gesturing to the rear exit of the bridge, and led his brother out. “What’s with the urgent need for coffee, Eli?”
Elijah looked at James askance as he followed his younger sibling half-a-pace behind. “No urgency, I just need caffeine.” He frowned as he rubbed a temple, and James noticed that Elijah’s hair was beginning to grey… whether from stress or age, James wasn’t sure. “I’m getting a headache.”
James led him down to the staff lounge below the bridge and took a seat by the tiny circular porthole – the Endurance was beginning to decelerate and turn back to face the T-Tauri star.
“You wanna run through with me again just what it is this new contraption you’ve developed is supposed to do?”
Elijah glowered at him in impatience. “You were there at the briefings, weren’t you?”
“Yes, and after two minutes of you speaking in a foreign language, I tuned out,” James retorted, his mind flashing back to the briefing sixteen hours earlier. It had been headed by Elijah and his deputy, Doctor Huang, and James had failed to understand the majority of what they had been talking about. It was English… but not as I know it.
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