by B. V. Larson
Dr. Abrams, who’d had the good sense to stay quiet while the battle unfolded, took this moment step forward again.
“That’s what you get, General, when you listen to Blake. He’s a warmonger. A danger to all. Every time I saw him interact with the Rebel Kher, the result was misunderstanding and bloodshed.”
There was some truth to Abrams’ words, which made them hurt all the more.
But General Vega shook his head. “I made the call,” he said. “The responsibility is mine, right or wrong.”
Dr. Abrams had an insufferable smirk on his face.
“And you,” Vega barked at him. “You’d better hope you’re wrong and Blake is right. Because your ass is on the line now, too. We’re all in this together—live or die.”
This seemed to strike through Abrams’ smugness. His expression faltered, and he frowned at the tactical screens.
“Well,” he said. “At least their ships aren’t advancing any closer to Earth.”
We snapped back to the projection, and we took note of the velocity measurements.
“He’s right,” I said. “They’re braking. They’re practically dead in space.”
Vega thumped me again between the shoulder blades. “Maybe you didn’t get us all killed Blake—not yet.”
I grinned at him. “That’s the best damned news I’ve heard all day.”
=6=
“I’m going to get demoted for this,” Vega said, “but I no longer care about that. I’m going to answer these hairy bastards.”
We watched him with wide eyes. The fledgling ops group at Space Command had been given tactical control of any battle that arose on short notice—but now, we were stepping into diplomatic territory.
Already, a horde of brass was on the way to our lonely mountain stronghold. I was sure at least two dozen admirals, generals and chiefs-of-staff were kicking themselves about not being here when all hell broke loose. Soon, they would be. At that point, Vega would lose his authority, and the crowd would take over.
“This is still very much a live-fire situation,” Vega announced. “The enemy has not retreated. They are still within range of Earth. They could change their minds and move back in—or they could simply launch missiles at our cities from where they stand now. Do we have any effective defense against such a straightforward attack?”
The staffers shook their heads. Their faces were ashen. We’d spent so much time building our phase-ships and organizing ourselves, Earth had kind of forgotten to cover the basics.
“I guess no one really thought we’d be faced with an outright invasion, General,” I said.
“Idiocy,” Vega said. “The last two times, Kher ships came here pick up crewmen. The Imperials never came here at all. So, we built a small navy capable of defense in space. But we didn’t build fortresses on the Moon, or orbital platforms bristling with missiles. Just the ships.”
“What are your orders, General?” one of the staffers asked. She looked frightened, but she was also determined.
“Let’s open a dialog. Let’s find out why they’re here.”
She transmitted the request to the two remaining cruisers, and we waited. At last, a transmission came back.
“It’s a live feed,” she said. “Shall I—”
“Yes, dammit. Put him on screen.”
The imagery of space and ships faded. Instead an alien face, just the head and shoulders, looked back at us.
It was none other than Admiral Fex. I’d know him anywhere. He was a tall, lanky, ape-like being. His appearance belied his intelligence and natural cunning.
“Admiral Fex,” Vega said. “I’m sorry we had to meet under such circumstances.”
“As am I,” Fex said sternly through his translation device. “What’s the purpose of your call?”
“Well, I’d think that would be obvious. We’ve warned you off, and you ignored us. We were forced to attack to defend ourselves, and we warned you again. I’m at a loss to understand why you’re still lingering in our star system.”
Fex looked surprised. “Your star system? You’ve made an error—many of them. You were once Rebel Kher who provided excellent crews to aid the war effort against the Imperials. Perhaps that fact went to your head.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Fex,” Vega snapped. “I want you out of our space, pronto.”
“I’m afraid the situation has changed. I’ve applied to become the protector of your planet and this entire star system. It’s clear you can’t fend for yourselves against predatory neighbors. Secretary Shug awarded me the contract.”
“What contract?” Vega demanded, confused.
“Why, the same basic contract all undefended planets operate under. We, the Kwok, will provide local defense. There will be no raids from your neighbors any longer.”
“We’ve never been raided by our neighbors,” Vega complained. “Unless you count your ships coming and abducting crewmen to fight the Imperials.”
“I most certainly would not,” Fex said stiffly. “Service in the fleet was offered as an honor to your backwater planet. It’s offensive you would suggest otherwise.”
Vega erased the conversation with his hands. “All right, whatever. The situation is as it now stands. We are not helpless. We are not in need of your protection. We will not give any portion of our sovereignty away to the likes of you.”
“This is pointless,” Fex said. “Do you have anyone else available that I can talk to? Anyone in authority?”
“I’m in charge here,” Vega stated flatly.
“No, I mean someone with standing among the Rebel Kher—wait, I see a familiar face. Aren’t you the notorious outlaw known as Blake?”
I stepped forward into the camera pickup. “I’m Leo Blake.”
“Excellent!” Fex said. “At last, someone I can talk to. You have served in the Rebel Fleet. You are worth a thousand—no, a million buffoons like this general of yours. Please explain that to him, Blake.”
“Um...” I said, looking at General Vega. He glowered back unhappily.
One of the things about dealing with the Rebel Kher that was never well understood by Earth governments is that the Kher considered all local military establishments to be illegitimate. Only service against the Imperials in war brought status. Every general, admiral, king or president on Earth was no more important than the lowest recruit in the Rebel Fleet to them—possibly less so.
“General Vega,” I said. “He’s not insulting you—well, not intentionally. The Kher only recognize their own ranks. They only recognize military people who’ve worked their way up in the Kher command structure.”
“Let me ask you something, Fex,” Vega said angrily. “Did your cruiser’s crew die in space or not? We’ve got an effective military force, and we know how to use it. We’re a power. I insist you deal with us as equals.”
Fex laughed at that. “You destroyed a single ship. As we observed, that effort required the loss of nearly a third of your absurd navy. Let’s not have any repeats of such tragedy. Accept your annexation and let us all be done with this nonsense.”
“Annexation?!” Vega boomed. “Are you mad? We’ve just defeated you in battle, Fex.”
“If you had a hundred more ships, you would have destroyed all three of mine. We have counted your fleet, and we find it unimpressive. Even though you’re clearly a misinformed, primitive planet, we’re still willing to offer you—”
“I’m done talking to this crazy alien,” Vega said, and his staff moved to cut the channel.
“Wait!” Fex said. “Let Blake talk. Him, I respect.”
Vega gave me a reluctant nod.
“Admiral Fex,” I said, “let’s not shed any more blood. We destroyed a single ship so you would take us seriously. We can, and we will, destroy you all. Not all our phase-ships have revealed themselves. You are surrounded, sir.”
Fex was quiet for just a moment. I thought he was taken by surprise.
“Threats…” he said at last in a quiet
voice. “Threats and invective. I’d expected better from a loyal officer of the Rebel Fleet.”
“I’m loyal to Earth first, Admiral,” I told him firmly. “Especially now, since the war with the Imperials is over.”
Fex threw up his hairy hands in a gesture I found surprisingly human.
“I’ve done my best!” he declared. “I must withdraw. We’ve offered you our help, and we’ve been refused most rudely. You Earthers are like feral beasts. You bite the hand of your only friend. I would not be surprised if Shug orders that you all be put down.”
“We’ll be ready for you,” Vega shouted over my shoulder, “if you come back to try.”
“The alien ships are retreating, General,” one of the staffers said quietly.
We glanced at the projections, and we saw it was true. Fex was pulling out. He was moving slowly, but determinedly, back toward the breach where he’d arrived in our system.
Vega nodded to me, indicating I should keep talking to Fex.
“Admiral,” I said, “it would be best for both our peoples that this misunderstanding be left out of the history books. We don’t want war, but we can’t allow foreign warships to orbit Earth without so much as an invitation. The next time you come, please arrive at least ten light-hours from Earth. Contact us politely, and we’ll arrange for permission for a single vessel to—”
“Preposterous!” Fex interrupted. “You don’t know your place, Blake. You never did. It shall be a shame to burn you and your world away to ash, if it comes down to that. But you will be protected! That I can assure you!”
Then, a new rift spun open beyond the retreating cruisers. It twisted and shone with wispy colors. Silver, pink and blood-red disturbances rotated just ahead of the retreating ships.
“General,” the ops officer running the fleet assets said in a low voice. “We have several ships in position. We might be able to stop one—possibly both of them—from retreating.”
“No…” Vega said, closing the channel to Fex’s ship. “Let that pompous ass withdraw. We smacked him down hard enough. Besides, I don’t want to lose any more ships today.”
There was a general sigh of relief that swept the room. We watched as the two remaining cruisers entered the rift and winked out. They were gone, and the crisis was over.
Unfortunately, the recriminations had yet to begin.
=7=
The rift spun on the screen for several minutes, and I watched it closely. Wherever Fex’s escape route had taken him, I could tell he wasn’t going back to Antares. The color of the star on the other side was all wrong. Rather than being a huge, swollen red ball of fire the star was quiet, blue-white, and of normal dimensions. Antares was a supergiant in its death throes, enjoying its last few million years of life, destined to explode into a supernova someday soon. The star we glimpsed through the rift was relatively young and stable.
“Aren’t we sending a ship after them, General?” I prompted, watching the assembled group.
They seemed startled by the idea.
“Ah, right,” Dr. Abrams said before Vega could answer. “You did that, didn’t you, Blake? Risking Hammerhead, Earth’s only vessel, on the off-chance you’d learn more about the enemy. An insane gamble then and now.”
“It was our mission to learn all we could,” I said calmly.
General Vega watched the interplay between Abrams and I, but at last he shook his head. “I can’t do it. I’d like to see where they went, but what would we do if we found out?”
“Perhaps the rift leads to their homeworld,” I suggested. “It might be good to know where retaliation could be delivered.”
“The information wouldn’t offer any immediate advantage,” Vega argued, “as we’ve got no starships of our own capable of opening a rift.”
Dr. Abrams rumbled something in his throat at that point. I wasn’t sure if he was coughing up a hairball or commenting. In any case, he said nothing intelligible. He simply looked pleased that Vega had sided with him this time.
“We’ve only got seventeen ships left—plus Hammerhead,” Vega explained to me. “That’s it, the sum total of our defensive forces in space. I can’t risk six percent of our minuscule navy on a scouting mission right now.”
I shook my head and spread my hands. “All right, sir. It’s your call.”
The staff remained tense and on station until the rift closed behind the retreating starships. Earth’s skies once again belonged to us.
It was a vast relief, but my day wasn’t over with yet. Brass soon began to swoop in from various headquarters locations around the country and the world. There seemed to be more of them every hour.
As we were debriefed and questioned on every decision and detail of our actions, I could tell the brass wasn’t happy to have been left out of the command decisions. They’d collectively assumed Earth’s fledgling Space Command was a gambit for the future. Few of them had wanted to commit and lay their reputations on the line by taking charge of Space Command’s operational status—therefore, they’d left the dirty work to Vega.
Not everyone was satisfied with our choices, but they couldn’t argue with the final outcome. Their consensus was we’d taken desperate gambles and won the day.
When the briefings mercifully paused, the head of Earth’s Joint Chiefs asked Vega and I to attend him in a private meeting at around ten pm.
The man was a British Admiral named Clemens. He was old for an active admiral, pushing seventy if I had to guess. He had two matching tufts of white hair partly covering each ear. They weren’t really lamb chops, mind you, but the thought was there.
“Gentlemen,” Clemens began, “I’m past my prime when it comes to running battles—especially ones that occur in space.”
Neither Vega nor I moved a muscle. There was nothing to be gained by agreeing or arguing with Clemens’ statement—the truth of it was self-evident.
“But I am,” he continued, “still a good judge of character. While you were being poked and prodded all afternoon by my colleagues like specimens on a plate, I stood back and attempted to apply that judgment. Do you want to know what my conclusions were?”
“We’d love to hear them, Admiral,” Vega said.
Clemens chuckled and shook his head. “You even lie with enthusiasm, Vega. But in any case, what I saw was real competence. I viewed some of the live vid recordings of the interaction at the ops table—and I liked what I saw. You two make a good team. Most of the rest of the staffers looked like someone had run over their cocks.”
“Uh… crudely put, sir,” Vega said. “But accurate, I guess. In their defense, my team is made up of good people. They’ve just never had to run a battle in space before.”
“Right… but you have done so, Captain Blake? Am I right?”
“On several occasions, Admiral.”
“Exactly. That competence shone through all the bollocks when the battle fell into your lap. I need that competence, Blake. I need your shine.”
I felt a sinking feeling in my gut. I’d been entertaining thoughts of wangling a command at last out of this event—but those hopes were fading fast.
“Thank you, sir,” I mumbled.
“Here’s how this is going to go,” Clemens said. “I’m going to get push-back, but I’m also going to get my way in the end. You’re going to be reaffirmed as Space Command’s operational leader, Vega. You’ll be pushed up in rank a notch, effectively making you the highest ranking officer in this new service of ours.”
Vega’s mouth sagged for a second, but he snapped it shut again. “I’ve been Air Force my entire career, sir.”
“I know that, but as I said, we need you. When the U. S. Marines broke off from your Navy—or the Air Force from your Army—where do you think the first officers came from?”
“I’m well aware of the historic precedents, Admiral,” Vega said. “It’s just that… I guess it’s a shock.”
“Well, get over it. Immediately. Earth was nearly fried today. That’s my impression, anyway.�
��
We didn’t argue with him. He could well be right. It was my opinion that Fex had come to dominate Earth, rather than hurt us, but the threat had been real enough either way.
“There will be push-back,” the Admiral repeated, “but that’s how it’s going to be. And you, Blake. I heard you were taking a post here as an instructor. Is that true?”
“Uh… that idea has been proposed, Admiral.”
“What a crime. You’re no desk-jockey. You’re a line officer in a new service. You worked well with Vega at every step. Until I can get you a worthy command of your own, I want you at his side. Guide him the way you did today. Rely on each other, gentlemen. You make a good team under fire.”
Vega and I exchanged surprised glances. We hadn’t expected these changes to our relationship.
Vega nodded his head slowly. “All right,” he said. “I can live with that. Blake showed real maturity today. He was a serious helper. But my idea was to pass his knowledge on to others, Admiral, rather than getting Blake killed in space. We lost three ships today—in a single action.”
“I’m well aware of our losses,” Clemens said. “But right now Earth needs her best at the helm. What would you have done if Blake had been in a classroom instead of at your side today?”
General Vega’s face went blank for a moment. “Probably about the same thing…” he answered at last.
“Rubbish!” Clemens boomed. “Don’t try to feed me nonsense, Admiral. You’re not good enough to get away with it.”
After that announcement, he stood up. We shook hands all around and stayed standing until he was gone.
Vega looked at me in irritation when the door had closed. “Looks like we both got our cards punched today, Blake. Welcome to my staff.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” I said, emphasizing his new rank.
He winced, but then he nodded and walked out. I followed and headed home to Mia. I wanted a drink and bed. A few people tried to accost me, but I dodged them smoothly.