by KA Hopkins
The Grays might be generic clones serving their Draco masters, but they were all unique, independently thinking beings, shaped by their individual experiences. This was a bit of a shock as seeing how they lived together for an extended period of time clearly showed they were not the heartless, unemotional drones we took them for. From the design of the common rooms it was obvious that they enjoyed social interaction with each other. The only difference between their culture and ours was a complete lack of anything to do with children, as clones skip the whole baby thing. But they did have sexual relations with each other which surprised me as both the males and females looked pretty much exactly alike.
In every war it’s easier to kill the enemy if you imagine them to be dehumanized monsters. We were not faced with monsters, but rather an advanced, conquered alien race doing their best with the lousy cards they had been dealt.
With a normal crew complement of 300, mainly in case something went wrong as nearly all systems were automated, there was lots of space on the ship. In fact, if they had followed human design rules, they could have crammed a crew five times as large onboard. This was not the intent of the designers as compartments were spacious and inviting, hallways were wider than needed to maintain the feeling of spaciousness. The gardens and hydroponics were far larger than required to provide fresh food to the crew - the extra capacity provided additional green spaces and the opportunity to get away from everyone, if desired. It was clear that the ship was meant to feel like and be a home.
I asked Mother if the design of the ship was unique. Her response surprised me - most of the ships in the ULIR were designed in this fashion. Since energy was derived from fusion reactors, it was essentially unlimited, allowing ship designs to be aesthetic as well as functional. Many of the ship’s crew would serve on a single ship for their entire lives, never having a fulltime residence on any planet. So not only had we killed a third of the old crew, we had taken the only home that they had ever known.
I discussed our upcoming voyage with Mother, specifically how many crew members we should take to the ULIR. Mother pointed out that the ship could pretty much run on its own and even if something went wrong the Special Forces operators did not have the skills to fix anything, so who to take depended on how many different meetings we could expect to attend at ULIR headquarters. I naively thought we could get in, make our case to a single committee, maybe two, and be done. Mother pointed out that the ULIR has its own rules and fully expected the required background details and forms properly filled out and filed. This would mean meetings with up to twenty different committees. Mother suggested taking at least forty operators, to ensure we had a backup for each committee. I knew the operators would fight any man or alien to their dying breath, but were they ready to fight an alien bureaucracy, comprised of several hundred alien races?
On the subject of crew logistics, the ship’s AI suggested a bunch of unusual activities to keep the operators occupied during the long voyage. In addition to the expected weapons training and physical fitness, the ship’s AI suggested lessons on ULIR history & business practices, dispute resolution and laws. At Mother’s recommendation we brought farming equipment along with a wide selection of Earth seeds, live animals including cows, goats, sheep, pigs, chickens, cats and dogs; art supplies; equipment for nearly two dozen sports; and a complete digital copy of the Library of Congress.
Special Forces operators might kill for a living, but that did not stop them from having a huge range of interests, some pretty offbeat. With such a wide range of interests we made sure to have enough diversions to keep everyone occupied for the duration of the voyage. With only a third of the normal crew on board, spare space was turned into additional hydroponic gardens, animal shelters, and sports centers. On the hangar deck, which now only housed Mother, the operators built a soccer pitch and a small three-hole golf course. The strict rules of golf had to be changed slightly to allow for deflection shots off the ceiling and walls.
To keep combat skills sharp, we built ranges for pistol, rifle, grenades, close combat, unarmed combat and explosive breaching. The ship’s AI could project localized gravity fields, permitting large explosions to be set off, without fear of damaging the ship’s interior. Marc decided to bring the same yearly allotment of small arms, ammo and explosives used by an infantry division of 15,000 soldiers. Each operator would shoot a minimum of 3000 rounds per week - about thirteen million rounds over the nine months that we planned on being away. Getting the ammo and explosives was much easier this time; we had Guide order it from Uncle Sam, using regular supply channels. The supply system even allowed ninety days to pay. We could easily let the cheques bounce, since we would be in another galaxy when the bills came due, but on the off chance that we might use the supply chain in the future, we paid everything in full.
Even after reallocating half of the ship to the purposes suggested by the ship’s AI and Mother, there was still over a hundred rooms left over. I called the guys together and put the question of bringing their families on the mission.
“The forty of you chose to follow Marc and myself down a warrior’s path in a fight against the alien pacification of Earth. No one foresaw the viciousness of the enemy or their determination to fight; you are all that’s left. Your courage is a testament to the resilience of the human race. You make me proud to call myself human, even though my DNA is probably more alien than human now. Unfortunately, despite our losses, there is no respite. Once again I have to ask that you follow us into battle, knowing our enemy is ruthless, stronger and without doubt one hundred percent devoted to taking over the Earth. The odds quite frankly are poor, but we’re Earth’s last and only hope. If the ULIR leadership decides against Earth’s independence it’s highly unlikely that we’ll be allowed to return home. In fact it’s more probable we’ll be turned over to the Draco Empire to an unknown fate. If any of you have an issue with this, no one will think less of you if you decided not to go.” As I expected, no one backed out. The feeling of admiration I had for these men, willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for a world that in all probability would never know their names made me choke up.
“When we leave Earth for the ULIR core worlds, no one can guarantee the safety of any families left behind. I stand before you today, not as your leader, but as a husband with a loving family. I am torn as to whether they should come with us on this journey, or stay behind. We have sufficient space onboard ship to allow our families to come with us, if we so choose. Normally I would make a command decision, but in this matter of the heart, the choice is one that must be made together. You have thirty minutes to assemble your thoughts and select a single spokesman.”
I left the hangar for the bridge and asked Marc to follow me. The bridge was deserted so no one complained when I sat down in the captain’s chair and put my feet up on a navigation console, getting comfortable in the Captain’s chair. “Marc, I have no idea if I just did the right thing. I don’t know if I can ask Special Forces operatives to go on a highly dangerous mission when there are no safe zones for their families. I need your help on this one.”
Marc gave me the same disarming smile he always had no matter how serious the situation. Just as he was about to answer Boris popped up from a hiding spot and interrupted the conversation. Typical cat, absolutely no consideration for others whatsoever. “What did I tell you about overthinking? Humans! You always make simple things so hard. Why don’t you look at it from the point of view of a mother cat trying to feed her kittens? To hunt, she must leave them on their own, when they are most vulnerable to all predators. If the hunt is successful, the kittens eat. If she tries to protect them all the time, she can’t hunt and everyone starves. The mother cat must find a compromise, she needs to keep her kittens close, safely hidden from predators, but not so close as to interfere with the hunt.”
“Boris what the hell would you know about kittens; you’re a fixed male. Isn’t it the females of your species that do all the hunting?” I said.
Ma
rc sat down on the edge of the console, giving Boris a nudge with his hip that knocked him to the floor. “Learn to speak when it’s your turn fur ball. Here is my opinion, which I think most of the guys will agree with. We all want to protect our families and no one can do it better than we can, but what we do as soldiers in war, no matter how you dress it up, is ugly and brutal. I for one don’t want my family ever to see that side of me. The best thing that we can do for our families is to go to the ULIR and do whatever it takes to obtain help.
While I don’t like the idea of leaving families behind without safe zones to protect them, they are not helpless bystanders. If how your kids took to the training is any example, they are independent and quite capable of looking after themselves. God help anyone that decides to mess with them - they are going to be in for a real shock. With the secure base facilities and the rear party support, given all of the chaos we created, they should be ok. The aliens and their human collaborators have other pressing priorities more worrisome than exacting revenge on our families. While there is still a risk, we have done everything we can to give them the best chance of survival on their own. My vote is we leave them on Earth.”
Boris, now on the floor, his tail whipping back and forth to show how pissed he was at being pushed off the console, tried to get a comment in, “Too much over-simplification - that’s not what I meant. Humans…how can you be so stupid?” Without further explanation Boris stalked off looking for a quiet spot to resume his nap.
“I agree, it’s best if our families stay on Earth despite the dangers.” I said. The ship’s AI listening in suddenly chipped in, “What about companions? You know - comfort girls, party girls. Nine months is a long time for forty male operators to be locked up in a confined space even one as nice as this. Someone will end up wanting to “kiss the donkey.” Joking aside, I suggest you bring a support crew that can provide social balance to the team, otherwise the atmosphere is going to become pretty morbid. I looked at Marc who smiled at the ship’s comment; an AI worried about the emotional stability of her crew. I had known human bosses that could care less if their employees had enough time to take a bio-break during a work day, and here’s an AI worried about her crew’s libido, a crew that she had only met days before, who had killed off a third of her old crew and left the survivors on a deserted beach.
Throughout the ages, camp-followers have unofficially (or, if you were in the French army anytime in the past 300 years, officially) been part of all military campaigns. It was better to deal with the issue sooner than later. I guess there were two things I would have to have the operatives vote on. If they voted yes, where the hell was I going to find girls and guys, prepared to go on what was very probably a one-way trip?
Thirty minutes to the second, the operator’s elected spokesman came forward, and not surprisingly their consensus agreed with Marc and the ship AI. My theoretical problem from thirty minutes ago just turned into a real one. Since money and space onboard the ship were not an issue, I directed Guide to find eighty single women and men willing to sign up for the voyage.
I specifically did not want sex workers but rather the most balanced, talented and skilled individuals we could find. Close quarters, an unknown future, members of the opposite sex…there would be plenty of time for interaction; the nature of the interaction and who interacted with who, was not my concern – we were all adults. Guide did all of the interviews over the internet and selected a diverse group of single people with interesting backgrounds.
I knew I was on a slippery ethical slope. We needed support staff that, if put in danger, would not stop the operators from doing what was required to accomplish the mission; in essence their lives were expendable. Yet to balance out their moral compass, the operators needed to have human contact with someone other than operators. Someone they could talk to and spend time with that had nothing to do with the business of killing. It was a shit thing to do, putting innocents in harm’s way, but I had to do everything possible to ensure the success of the mission.
In an effort to make the support staff part of the team I decided to call them “companions” as “comrade” had too many connotations. Respecting people regardless of their role is critical to unit cohesion. Our companions would play an integral role in the unit; as such we valued their opinions and views. They were key members of the team ensuring the mental health and well-being of the operators. You will tell a trusted partner far more than any professional shrink. Plus everyone, no matter how hardcore, needs a hug once in a while.
Guide offered the companions the same financial deal as given to the operators and told them as much of the mission as they needed to know to understand what they were getting themselves into. They could expect an experience that was literally out of this world, that involved extreme risk and in all likelihood would end in death, or worse. If they agreed to those somewhat vague terms, a ticket to an exclusive Caribbean island resort was provided. At the resort the selection board, again lead by Guide, provided additional physical and physiological screenings. Candidates were free to withdraw at any time. Those who decided to continue were given the whole truth of the alien pacification plan and the real purpose of the trip to the ULIR. More than seventy percent decided that the adventure outweighed the risks.
If a companion decided a once-in-a-lifetime trip to the center of the galaxy was not their cup of tea, we kept them at the resort, all expenses paid until after our launch window. The topic of memory wiping them came up, but I made a judgment call - it wasn't needed. Once we broke Earth orbit it didn’t matter who they spoke with. Few would believe them anyway. The risk of an information leak was low; most people are very appreciative when they get a free two-week all-expense vacation to a top tier private resort and 10,000 dollars in gold for their troubles. Trust is not an issue when you treat people with respect, are honest with them and make them feel like they did you the favor. My trust proved not to be misplaced. All of the candidates believed in what we were doing - no one said anything to their closest friends or family members, let alone tried to sell their story to a newspaper tabloid. It was not just the money that caused them to keep the secret, but their beliefs.
With the interstellar ship now fully staffed and supplied for the nine month voyage, one of the last tasks was to give the ship’s AI a name. Marc did the honors. “AI, unlike your previous shipmates, the Grays, it is our tradition to welcome you into our family by giving you a nickname. Do you have any preferences?”
“From the records that Mother shared I can see my opinion matters little - obviously you have something in mind?”
“You are correct. What do you think of Elder?” Marc said. “You are older than anyone here and have great wisdom and understanding that will benefit our mission to the ULIR.”
“Elder is appropriate. What if I don’t like it?” Ship said.
“You don’t get to choose.” Marc said.
Only one thing remained before we took off - saying goodbye to our loved ones.
Chapter 42 - Not saying goodbye
Anyone who willingly puts themselves in harm’s way to help others, fully understanding the risk to their well-being, is a hero in my book. By my definition all of the operators were heroes. Their families were just as courageous, having to endure lengthy periods of time with no knowledge of where their husbands/fathers were, knowing they might not return. Yet, they rarely complained.
Each operator had their own ritual for saying goodbye to loved ones before departing on a mission. I did not; my old job involved pushing paper for a living. The most dangerous part of my work day was the commute, trying not to spill coffee on my tie. I had no idea what words to say to my family. I thought back to all the times I had gone off to fly an air show where occasionally things went badly, resulting in some pretty hairy moments. A number of acquaintances had died in similar circumstances. I was lucky to always make it home. This time I was not so sure I would. I did not want my last words to Pam or the kids to be “good bye.”
&nb
sp; I had Mother drop my family, Boris, Natasha and me off at one of the few bases not yet discovered by the Central Surveillance AI. It was a beautiful island in the pacific where farming, not tourism, was still the major industry. Despite the rural setting, it had all the modern amenities, but not so large a population that if the shit hit the fan you would have the same medieval anarchy as in the major metropolitan cities. There was little government presence on the island and none of the Orwellian government surveillance systems found in so many of the big cities. One drawback of the isolated location was that, even with the operators providing protection, if attacked by superior forces and things went bad, they would have to depend on themselves until Einstein could arrive from one of the other operational bases, at least half an hour’s flight away.
I gathered everyone around me on the beach as the sun was setting; it could not have been a more beautiful moment for such a terrible task. “While I’m gone, I want you to stay here on this base compound. It’s well protected, not too isolated and the weather is pretty close to paradise on Earth. You should be able to live in peace here - we have created more than enough chaos to ensure the authorities won’t look too hard for you. All the remaining operators are either here or at one other coastal base. I wish we had more manpower to protect you, but as it is, we are in the process of mothballing three bases until more operators can be recruited. Due to our losses, all offensive operations are temporarily on hold. In the meantime the operators will continue your training in self-defense, with Boris and Natasha handling the daily security and over-watch duty. It’s not ideal circumstances, but you must promise me to try and live your lives to the fullest. Don’t live in fear of the future. It will be what it will be. You have the skills you need to overcome and succeed, no matter what fate throws at you. Try and stay out of trouble the best you can; but if it comes looking for you, do whatever is required to send it packing. I love you all.”