by Trevor Wyatt
“I need battle readiness in 24 hours and I’ll debrief you at that point,” Jeryl says to me maintaining formality in front of the engineer. “At the temporary quarters on the station,” he says to me.
“I’ll actually have the deflector screens repaired, a new complement of torpedoes ready for you, and the inertial dampers stabilized so that they don’t give you any trouble anymore in 12 hours,” the engineer says both to Jeryl and myself. “When your ship goes out in the battle, she’ll be ready.”
I nod, smiling at the sudden importance The Seeker has taken on the engineer’s queue for repairs.
“Great,” Jeryl says with a sigh. Before I can say anything he turns around and walks to the elevator.
“He’s a legend,” the engineer breathes, almost to himself.
I nod. After discovering the Sonali, dealing with them, and leading many of the campaigns of this war, Jeryl Montgomery very well might be a living legend.
But I know him better to know what he really is.
The first casualty of the Earth-Sonali War.
Chapter 19
Admiral Flynn
“The best I can do is 26 hours,” the Edoris station engineer says to me.
“26 hours is too long. That’s just way too long to repair the deflector screens,” I say back to him. His gray eyes bore into me trying to look into my soul.
“Look, Commander Gaines,” he says. “You’re not the first person who’s come up to me telling me that my repairs take too long. You’re not even the highest ranking person who’s come up to me telling me my repairs take too long. Let me ask you this. You want me to put together a half ass job so that when you go out there and fight the blue skins you end up falling apart faster and having to limp back and I got do this job all over again?”
I’m silent.
“Or … you want me to do a good job, get you good deflector screen upgrades, so that when you fight those fuckers you kick their ass you don’t have to come crawling back to the station—if it’s even around—to get an upgrade,” he finishes.
A part of me has to be absolutely honest. He makes a very good point. But the key statement in that whole long diatribe that sticks out of me is whether the station is still going to be around the next time we come back.
It’s been a long war. The destruction over the last five years has been unprecedented. Even The Seeker. We’re doing with an upgraded battle cruiser using the name v nowadays. An encounter at New Sydney in the first six months of the war led to the destruction of the old frigate. Can’t say that I don’t like the new ship, but a part of me sometimes misses the old one. It sort of became home after a lot of years.
“16 hours is fine,” I say. “There’s a problem with the inertial dampers too. Think you could take a look at that while you’re under the hood?”
“You got it,” he says to me and starts inputting orders into his tablet.
“How many ships are in the queue?” I ask. He looks at me and gives me a rueful smile.
“You don’t even want to know,” he says with a chuckle. “Fixup one, another three get in line. But I guess it’s better that they come back damaged than they don’t come back at all.”
The engineers got a point. At the very beginning of the war the number of Terran Union ships that it took to bring down one Sonali vessel was staggering. It seemed like every ship that we had was ill-equipped to fight the graceful and superior design of the Sonali. I remember encounters where it took five ships to bring down one Sonali vessel.
But, that’s not to say that the scientists and the corporations didn’t do their damnedest to try to even those odds. Right about three years ago during one of their largest offensives we finally began to hold our lines. Not just hold our lines, but turned the tide.
But the cost of resources? The cost of manpower? All those people for 2 ½ years who died just to halt an invasion?
That treasure can never be recovered.
Like I said, it’s been a long war. For the first time ever, the rebuilding of the planet Earth was put on hold to ensure the survival of humanity.
Not that there hasn’t been some good that’s come out of this. For the first time the Outer Colonies, seeing us at the losing end of a war and facing extinction finally began moving toward a path and toward meaningful diplomatic contact. It’s surprising to say to someone like me who’s always only known the Outer Colonies as belligerent, isolationist, and not interested in anything to do with the Terran Union. But for the first time emissaries are arriving on Earth to begin the process of opening a dialogue.
Where’s that dialogue going to go? I don’t know. That’s beyond my pay grade. But what I do know is that if there is some meaningful progress on that front maybe there’s hope for us as a species in surviving this.
“I’ll start working with the dock master to get the ship detailed and ready to go in the next two days with all the things we talked about,” the engineer says to me. I nod. My mission while we’re docked at the station is to make sure that the battle damage that The Seeker suffered while out on it’s missions gets repaired to the best of this station’ abilities.
I know that not everything’s gonna get fixed. The inertial dampers, like I said, are shot. The molecular resequensor only works at limited capacity. The captain has diverted all nonessential energy toward weapons and critical ships functions. The last firefight that we were in ravaged the sick bay but we’re making do. In order to repair it, we need a full crew to detail out the sick bay and that would shelve us for at least two weeks.
We don’t have two weeks.
We need to be out there. In space. Fighting the Sonali. Defending the innocent. Before they ravage us anymore.
I’m about to end my impromptu meeting with the stations engineer when I spy Jeryl walking toward me. His face is careworn. You can tell the weight of the galaxy is hanging on his shoulders. It sounds like an exaggeration but it really does seem like that.
This war has been particularly hard on him. Being the captain that carries out the first contact with an alien race who then sees his direct actions lead to five years of brutal war can’t be easy.
I tried to talk to him about it several times but he never opened up to me.
Jeryl walks up to me and the engineer salutes. I realize that I’ve gotten used to having him as my husband and some of these considerations I forget when were out amongst others.
But then again this is an impromptu meeting. I saw the engineer walking and I sidelined him, dragging him toward the bay windows overlooking deep space. That’s where I started hounding him and harassing him on when we would get the repairs done. It’s a good thing I did, or else we’d be here for three or four days getting critical repairs done… Or like some ships I know would be sent back out without being able to get anything fixed.
“How’d it go?” I ask as Jeryl looks at me.
“We have new orders,” he says to me.
“Anything fun?” I ask trying to put a mischievous smile on my face. I need to try to lighten his mood. There’s too much gloom and doom going around lately.
No surprise there with several billion dead staring down at you.
Although, just between you and me… I need to let you know that a part of me is a little bit happy.
Why is that?
Now, for the first time in a long time the Armada is looking outwards.
It’s upgrading.
The infrastructure of the fighting force is getting a retrofit. Were finally starting to take exploration and defense seriously. And we’re becoming leaner, and meaner. It’s an evolutionary process. Only the strong amongst us are surviving.
For the longest time, no one in the Armada knew what a real conflict was like. Sure, little border skirmishes with the Outers. Helping some corporations chase down some pirates. But the real war?
This is going to stay with us for life. And sure, that’s a bad thing. But that’s also a good thing. It teaches us to treasure the time that we do have.
What does that do internally?
What damage to the democratic institutions and the things that the Terran Union has enshrined in its society?
Our president is elected every six years. Three years ago, we had a new one who was elected at the height of defeat. Three years from now and it’s time for him to step down, if this war is still going on, will he?
Will there be a peaceful transition of power at the highest halls of the Terran Union?
On a personal note how will this war test our marriage? What will I do if Jeryl dies?
“Depends what you think is fun, Ashley,” Jeryl says bringing me back from my reverie.
“The Seeker’s gonna be leading a group of starships as part of a new offensive,” Jeryl says. “We’re going to be making a major offensive. This is the Wolf Offensive the people been waiting for and our ship’s gonna play a critical role.”
I can see the engineer and his ears perk up. The last couple of weeks all anyone can talk about has been the Wolf Offensive. Designed by Mortimer Wolf of Armada Intelligence this offensive is supposed to be something big. No one knows what it is but they do know that it’s supposed to be a game changer.
“I need battle readiness in 24 hours and I’ll debrief you at that point,” Jeryl says to me maintaining formality in front of the engineer. “At the temporary quarters on the station,” he says to me.
“I’ll actually have the deflector screens repaired, a new complement of torpedoes ready for you, and the inertial dampers stabilized so that they don’t give you any trouble anymore in 12 hours,” the engineer says both to Jeryl and myself. “When your ship goes out in the battle, she’ll be ready.”
I nod, smiling at the sudden importance The Seeker has taken on the engineer’s queue for repairs.
“Great,” Jeryl says with a sigh. Before I can say anything he turns around and walks to the elevator.
“He’s a legend,” the engineer breathes, almost to himself.
I nod. After discovering the Sonali, dealing with them, and leading many of the campaigns of this war, Jeryl Montgomery very well might be a living legend.
But I know him better to know what he really is.
The first casualty of the Earth-Sonali War.
Chapter 20
Jeryl
A few hours later, Ashley and I are going over the Wolf Offensive in my private office off CNC. It’s smaller than my old office aboard the original Seeker, even though the electronics are superior. There’s more computing power in this one chamber than there was in the entirety of the old ship, but it isn’t as comfortable.
“Details of the plan,” I tell her, sending the file to her tablet. “There are 395 ships in the fleet. According to Flynn we’re going to be leading a smaller flotilla of twenty-two ships ranging in size from dreadnoughts to small cruisers and one-man fighters.”
“Are all the flotillas going to be broken up like that?”
“Depending on how many of equal size can be put together from the complement of ships, yes,” I reply. “Some will have more or less of a given weight class, of course. No more than one dreadnought, ever, but anywhere from seven to twelve fighters. Ours has eight, for example.”
She wrinkles up her nose. I almost smile; I always found that expression very cute. But this isn’t the time or place for me to mention it. “Eight isn’t very many,” she says.
“That’s true, but figure that out of the 396 in the entire fleet, you’ll have well over a hundred. And it’s my understanding that this isn’t the only fleet.” She nods, staring at the data on her tablet. “How are the repairs going?” I ask.
“Well enough,” she says with a small smile. “That engineer I was talking to told me it would be ready on his timeline. Then you came over and destroyed all the resistance!”
I grin. “What can I say? Straight from the top.”
“Nothing like cutting through bureaucracy. Anyway, everything’s on schedule, and none of the crew will mind getting an extra sleep period or a little more shore leave.” She shrugs. “As long as those damned inertial dampers are fixed, I don’t care.”
“And the resequencer,” I say. “The coffee on this tub is bad enough without it tasting like soapy water like it does now.” I click my tongue. “Anyway, so look.” I send the attack plan to the room’s main screen. “The main thrust of the Wolf plan will be toward Beta Hydrae, which Terran Command believes is the nexus of Sonali control within this Sector.”
She makes an interested noise as I continue.
“Now, you can see here that Beta Hyrdae is a double-star system. The larger component is a blue star about two and a half times the size of our sun.”
“Hot,” she says.
“Very. And it’s also a variable, α2 CVn variable. Lots of metals on its surface layers, uneven temperature distribution across the photosphere, that sort of thing.”
“A place to avoid,” she acknowledges. “The Sonali can’t be from there, can they? I mean, a variable, it’ll flood that system with all sorts of radiation at intervals.” She looks at her tablet.
“They’ve established a series of underground and shielded shelters for a sizable population,” I say. I expand the view. “There are five planets, as you can see here. The third one out from the primary is the one we’re interested in, Beta Hydrae III. No one’s given it a proper name yet. Intelligence says that the place has some sort of religious significance for the Sonali.”
She looks blank. “Like what?”
“No one knows for sure. Something like the Star of Bethlehem was for Christians.” She nods in understanding. I say, “Anyway, some mythological nonsense. The Union believe if they can wipe it out, it’ll ruin Sonali morale.”
The nose-wrinkling again. “I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe.”
“Well, Command thinks it’s worth committing a hell of a lot of resources to do.”
“We’ve been fighting those bastards for a while now,” she says. “Do we have a clear idea yet of the exact volume of space the Sonali control?”
“Intelligence says their territory is roughly half the size of Union space. Our colonies are far-flung, but the Sonali’s are closer together and more developed than ours.”
“What exactly is the point of this mission, Jeryl?” she asks me, as she reads the specifics on her tablet.
I take a pause.
“The main assault will come from the main force,” I say in measured tones. “We expect heavy Sonali resistance. Our job is to take a small contingent of ships through a more circuitous approach. Come at them from another direction while they’re busy holding off our main fleet. And then bombard their infrastructure on the planet and destroy their ability to use their infrastructure from conducting war in the future.”
There’s a pause.
She studies her tablet. “I don’t know,” she says again after a few moments. “I know we’re anxious to strike a decisive blow, but this... capturing or destroying Beta Hydrae III? The Sonali are fanatics, Jeryl. Half the deal with this war is that they see us as heathens, unbelievers. If we crap in their manger, they could really get pissed off. It could be like stepping on a nest of fire ants.”
“I agree; but look, Ash—this could be our last chance. You know as well as I do what the scuttlebutt is; we’re sucking wind in this war. It isn’t going well. This attack is probably the only thing humanity can do.”
“What’s the population according to our estimates?” she asks.
See, this part rankles me. But I know I need to let her in on it.
“We estimate up to 1 billion Sonali are living in shielded subterranean caves or domed and shielded structures,” I say.
Silence.
“We’ll be bombarding the planet to the point to make it tectonically unstable. No ground troops,” I say. “Intelligence estimates that we can accomplish this through sustained bombardment with ten ships. We have twenty in our flotilla in case some get scrapped along the way.”
“Genocide,” she whispers.
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“It’s been done to us by them,” I say evenly. I’ve prepared for this. “We’ve done it too. This isn’t the first time.”
“A billion people,” she counters.
“Things are bad out there, Ash,” I reply.
“I don’t want to think they’re that bad that we have to do this,” she says.
“Who the hell does? For the past three years, all Sonali attacks on our territories have come through this route. They’ve all followed this path. It’s as if they make a sort of, I don’t know, a parade pass of Beta Hydrae III on their way to fight. Like they think they’re receiving a blessing or something. Here, look.” I call up some more data files, stuff I know she hasn’t seen. “These are scans from hyper-speed robot probes we’ve sent through that system.”
“What?" she frowns. “Hyper-speed what, now?”
“Robot probes. One of our ships drops out of FTL out past the cometary cloud and spits out a probe, then heads out on full drive again, so fast the Sonali don’t know it’s been there. The probe drops sunward at three times light speed. The hyper-drive fries its instruments, of course, because it’s too small for adequate shielding; but before that happens it whips past III so fast it can’t be detected unless you know exactly where to look. And as it passes, it images the bejesus out of the planet. Then it plunges into the star. Poof! Gone, like it never existed.”
“Well, that’s pretty frictionless,” she says in admiration.
“It is that. So, from those little probes, we know the Sonali have major defenses around III.”
“Fine, but we’re not going to be able to get in like that,” she says. “Looks to me that we’ll have to come in through this nebula, here; the radiation output from its central star will mask our drive signature.”
“That’s exactly right,” I say. Then I see that a peculiar look has crossed her face.
“Jeryl...”
“What?”