by CJ Williams
Luke’s heart filled with pride. When he was much younger, he had occasionally dreamed that someday he would engage in a noble endeavor. That feeling was partially responsible for his stint in the military. He liked the idea of being a warrior, of serving the public in a just cause. Those feelings died with his wife a long time ago. Back then, he thought it was forever.
Only recently had the glimmer of purpose resurfaced. He wished that Annie was standing next to him, but that lost love was in the past. He tamped the desire firmly away. From here on, he would concentrate on the future.
His youthful wish for a worthy cause had been granted on a scale so vast it was mind-boggling. Carrying the burden of humanity’s survival for the last year and a half had been overwhelming. But today, just for this moment, it felt good.
Day 523—Arriving J64
In Lulubelle’s large mission briefing room, Luke sat in the second row. Today, it was Tyler’s show. An officer hurried in and handed a tablet to Tyler. When the man finished his explanation Tyler dismissed him and turned to the men and women who were about to go into battle. For most of them, it was the first time.
Luke was one of the few with combat experience. Although the location was different, the familiar pre-mission intensity was just the same; a mixture of fear and anticipation. The room was filled with the captains of all the Ambrosia-class warships and the squadron leaders of the one-man fighters. Also present were the senior officers of Lulubelle’s self-defense and offensive weapons systems groups.
“George,” Tyler said. “Display this latest information on the board.”
The wall at the front changed to a depiction of the J64 system. The primary was an earth-type star. At the extremity of the system were five giant planets, all of them featuring Saturn-like rings. The exception was the second largest, and of the five, closest to the local sun; its rings were perpendicular to the planetary orbits. The fact was of no consequence, yet Luke had heard it mentioned often during the preceding days simply for its non-conformity.
The important planet for the briefing at hand was the fourth planet in the system, half again the size of Earth, but with a lower density and correspondingly lower gravity, estimated to be about eighty percent of standard gee.
This planet, J64-4, was populated by an intelligent remnant of humanity; distant cousins to the people of Earth, if Sam were to be believed.
The early probes indicated a technology more sophisticated than Earth in some regards, more backward in others. They either had no oil or had moved beyond fossil-based energy. The reconnaissance probes registered vast solar farms, which powered the advanced society. Unfortunately, the probes had not detected any capability for self-defense; the planet was filled with a peaceful and tranquil society.
But that was about to change. On the display, bright yellow diamonds began to appear around the planet.
Tyler explained. “The probes we sent last week are now active. These are the latest updates. It appears we are too late. Just hours ago the Bakkui appeared in this solar system. Each diamond icon on this chart represents a destroyer class combatant that appears equivalent to our Ambrosia warships.”
There were hundreds of diamonds surrounding the fourth planet.
Tyler’s voice was grim. “The Information I just received is that those ships have initiated a bombardment of the surface. We did not detect any attempt at communication.”
He paused for the unsettling information to sink in.
“Our arrival plan has not changed,” he continued. “George is updating your AIs with this information as we speak. In ten minutes we will go to null acceleration and launch all ships, fighters included. Blue and Green squadron fighters will accelerate to high guard above the ecliptic and await orders. Your mission is to destroy anything trying to leave the system after our contact. Acknowledge.”
Two men stood and shouted aloud.
“Sir.”
“Aye, sir.”
Tyler continued his briefing. “All warships will deploy in standard line abreast formation with Lulubelle. Red and Orange fighter squadrons will ride outrigger in a fighting wing. Upon passing the orbit of the outermost planet, Lulubelle will fire a volley of guided missiles at the Bakkui ships. The settings will be set to penetrate, not to detonate. Our goal is now twofold. Primary is to gain intelligence; secondary is to interdict the bombardment. Questions on that score?”
Luke knew there were dozens of questions among the participants but also that no one would ask them.
“When we pass the innermost gas giant, George will broadcast a free fire signal. You will each have one or more targets as designated by George sent to your AIs. If your target is still moving when we go sub-light, fifty-five million miles from the enemy, your task is to kill it. We will deploy recon and self-defense drones continuously from the time we enter the system. Lulubelle and the warships will continue to brake to engage the forces in orbit around the target planet. Red and Orange fighters will maintain their speed past the planet and then go to low guard unless directed otherwise.”
Tyler looked at the crowd. Everyone was ready to go. “We practiced this a hundred times. Do it the way you practiced and we’ll all be fine. Dismissed.”
The room buzzed with action as everyone hurried to their ships. Luke walked over to Tyler. “Good plan. Should work.”
“Let’s hope so. You coming to the bridge?”
“Absolutely.”
# # #
Lulubelle’s bridge was arranged much like the command centers on the Ambrosia-class warships. The main difference was that the bridge itself was located deep within the ship, so the forward wall was a large viewscreen rather than a window. It displayed the view directly in front of the ship.
Tyler was already in the captain’s seat when Luke arrived and he took the seat next to Tyler. From here on, Luke was an observer unless something went terribly wrong.
Tyler looked at the ceiling. “George, turning combat control over to you.”
“Acknowledged, Captain. I have the hammer.”
Moments later George spoke again. “Gravity drives to zero…now. Warships launching.” There was a five-second pause. “All warships launched. Fighters launching.” Another pause, slightly longer. “All fighters launched. Tactical displays updating.”
To the left of the bridge’s main viewscreen, a large tactical display showed a God’s-eye view of the system centered around a bright white diamond icon representing Lulubelle. Along either side, a line of white ovals spread out, indicating the positions of Lulubelle’s warships. The fighter symbols in their appropriate color markings began to appear as they assumed their assigned positions.
“Guided missiles fired,” George said unemotionally.
A moment later he added, “Recon drones launched. Self-defense drones launched. Gravity braking resumed.”
The red and orange fighter markings began to streak ahead of the decelerating fleet, following closely on the heels of the missiles.
George adjusted the drives to maintain light speed until the fleet was fifty-five million miles from the planet. By that time, the first volleys would have already impacted the targets.
To an outside observer there would be no visible notice of the impending attack. Bakkui ships would simply start disintegrating.
Every few moments George’s monotone voice provided an update:
“Free fire signal broadcast.”
“Exiting light speed.”
“Battle displays updating.”
Almost half of the yellow diamond icons around the planet had turned red, indicating their destruction or major damage. As seconds ticked by more of them blinked from yellow to red.
“Warships initiating one-on-one engagements.”
A few of the yellow diamonds began moving away from the planet, indicating attempts to escape the terrible onslaught.
“Pursuit initiated by Blue and Green fighters.”
A different voice suddenly interrupted George’s commentary. It was t
he Lulubelle’s master caution system; a cool, mechanical, female voice, dubbed as Belle by the bridge crew.
“Shields. Activated.”
“Captain,” George said calmly. “Another ship is approaching the battle from the second gas giant. It appears—”
“Kill it!” Luke barked, breaking into George’s explanation. Then he turned to Tyler. “Sorry.” He hadn’t meant mean to step on Tyler’s toes in the middle of the battle.
Tyler waved away the comment as George announced, “Guided missiles fired. Reloading.”
“Engage with nose gun, Tyler ordered.
“Gravity drive terminated,” George said. While he spoke, the display on the main viewscreen panned rapidly to the left and then steadied. On the tactical display, a much larger yellow diamond indicated the Bakkui position.
A rapid pulsing sensation tingled against Luke’s feet as the main guns at the front of the ship fired one round each in rapid succession.
“Again,” Tyler said. “Again,” he repeated after another salvo.
“Incoming,” Belle’s voice warned.
Across the viewscreen streaky flashes of light skidded off Lulubelle’s arrow-shaped force fields, deployed thousands of feet in front of the bow. The only visible impact of the Bakkui weapons were the transient phosphorescent smudges when the self-defense shields deflected the incoming warheads harmlessly off to the side.
“He’s running,” one of the bridge officers said.
The Bakkui ship, now in view, angled away, trying to head out of the solar system.
“Fire again,” Tyler barked. “Keep firing.”
The nose cannons fired in their circular sequence, creating a visible spiral that pointed at the enemy.
“Magnifying the view,” George said. The display zoomed toward the Bakkui ship. The repeated shelling was having an effect. Pieces of the enemy vessel were flaking away and then the ship flared into an incandescent white. Something inside the alien ship had detonated.
“Returning to main battle,” George announced quietly. The view panned back toward the planet. All of the yellow diamonds were gone, replaced by red dots, like someone had spattered blood across the screen. “Offensive operations complete.”
Just like that, the battle was over. There was a pause as everyone came to the realization they had won. Luke exhaled as though he had been holding his breath the entire time.
Tyler looked at his communications officer. “Advise warship flights Alpha and Bravo to establish a patrol of the solar system. Make sure there are no other surprises waiting for us. Recover the fighters and the remaining fleet of warships. Tactical officer?”
“Sir.”
“Send out search and rescue ships for any survivors. Have recovery teams start examining the debris for intelligence data.” Tyler looked at Luke. “Did I forget anything?” he asked.
Luke shrugged. “Captain, if you did, I don’t think it could be that important.”
“One thing,” Tyler said as though recalling an critical point. He looked at his bridge officers. “Good job, people. Really well done.”
There were no cheers or applause, just relieved smiles. Luke understood. It didn’t feel like an occasion for celebration; more like an opportunity to grab someone you loved and hold them tight.
The young officers methodically went through their after-action routines. Dozens of procedures had been developed during their training period. Most of them were taken from the memories of combat veterans of Earth’s military forces. Other concepts were newly developed because they were unique to space combat aboard a gargantuan battleship.
A few of the officers clustered around the communications officer. She kept shushing them and waving them away.
“Do you have something for us, Lieutenant?” Tyler asked.
“Captain, we’re being contacted by people on the planet. It appears they were monitoring the battle.”
“They’re still alive?”
“One second, please, Captain.”
She turned back to her console for another moment. Finally, she leaned back, relief showing on her face. She jumped to her feet and faced the Captain once more.
“Report,” Tyler said.
“Sir, yes sir. They are still alive. It appears they have a robust force field technology that protected them from the bombardment. They are aware they were under attack by an unknown force and know that we fought off the intruders.” The lieutenant took a deep breath. “They’ve invited you to dinner.”
Luke leaned back and laughed out loud. “I knew it,” he cried. “You can’t get away from politics.” He looked at his friend. “Thank God they invited you instead of me.”
The communications officer looked uncomfortable.
Luke choked off his laugh and gave her a worried look. “You didn’t.”
The lieutenant’s face screwed up with concern. “I did sir. I told them you were the leader of our expedition. They want to give you a medal.”
Luke sighed in disgust. He must have kicked a puppy in a past life. No matter what, he could not get out of this PR crap.
“Good job, Lieutenant.” Tyler chuckled. “Very good, indeed.”
# # #
A week later Luke shook his head at the fancy uniform laid out on his bed. “Who dreamed up this getup?”
“Dunno, sir,” Chief Rogers replied. “An orderly brought it from central issue. Said it’s your dress uniform for tonight.”
“What happened to the pullovers they wear on Star Trek?”
“Sir?”
“Never mind. This looks very US Navy to me. I suspect our Captain Robertson had a hand in this.”
“Not for me to guess, sir. I got word that Lieutenant Faulkner will be here directly to escort you down to the planet.”
That was a bit of good news. Carrie Faulkner, the mechanic, had blossomed under Amanda’s tutelage. After all the publicity following the International Space Station incident, Amanda had adopted her as a protégé. Carrie’s dry humor and down-to-earth nature had enhanced her celebrity status.
Amanda was not surprised to discover Carrie had a bachelor of science in criminal justice. How she wound up as a mechanic on the moon, no one knew. With Amanda’s help, however, Carrie left her toolbox behind and grew into a first-class public relations liaison.
When the notification went out that Luke was seeking crew members to serve aboard Lulubelle for his expedition, she was the first person to sign up. Thanks to her degree, she was awarded a lieutenant’s rank and put in charge of public affairs and governmental relations. For the past two days she’d been running back and forth to the planet, doing advance work for Luke’s visit. It was her first real-world experience with the power of her implant.
“I understand the way my implant translates their language when they talk to me,” she remarked when giving Luke and Tyler an update. “But I don’t get how my words come out in their language.”
Luke shrugged. “Let’s just hope what you think you’re saying is what they’re actually hearing.”
One of the problems she solved was what to call the planet. The literal translation of the locals’ name for their planet was Earth. Carrie implemented the untranslated word, Jigu. Accordingly, the Jiguans were their official hosts.
George infiltrated their planetary computer network and sucked their entire history into his archives. He also absorbed the current status of affairs from their media broadcasts.
Luke wondered how the planet had created such a fantastic force field technology when they were pacifists.
“Meteors,” George said.
“Meteors? You mean like chunks of rock?”
“Exactly, Commander.”
Perhaps it was the result of a planetary collision eons ago. Whatever the cause, meteorites bombarded the inhabitants routinely. To survive, the entire population had focused on science and technology to eliminate the threat. One of the benefits, aside from the resulting force field technology that rivaled that of Lulubelle, was a single planetary
government dedicated to supporting the lives of its citizens.
Now that it was time to meet the rulers of that government in person, Luke appreciated Rogers’ help in getting ready for the formal occasion.
“Did you know a lot of them folks have blue skin?” Rogers asked.
“Red and green ones too, from what I hear,” Luke replied. “Why? You got a problem with skin color?”
Rogers smiled. “Not at all, sir. Just find it an interesting characteristic.”
“According to a source of mine, it is supposed to be a good sign of the population’s intelligence. It means they’re not intent on killing each other.”
“That’s a nice change.”
“Knock, knock!” Carrie’s voice sounded from the entry way. “Time to go, Commander.”
“Tell her I’ll be a few more minutes,” Luke said, examining his uniform. “I still need to figure out some of these doodads.”
# # #
After an interminable spate of formalities, Luke finally took a seat at a large round table across from Chancellor Bo’erm. The chancellor’s entourage had erected an enclosed pavilion in a park in the center of the capital city. The Jiguans had designated most of the park for Luke’s contingent. Inside their perimeter, Luke’s ground force created a landing pad for shuttles that were traveling to and from the Lulubelle each day, as well as a barracks and officer’s quarters.
Luke directed his team to set up a bank of replicators at the edge of their boundary and teach the Jiguans how to use them. It was Luke’s intention to seduce the locals into coveting the incredible machines.
His misgivings about sharing the technology didn’t apply here. They had a planetary government that was popularly elected. If there was an elite wealthy class that hoarded the benefits of society, George hadn’t found it. Based on Luke’s research, the Jiguans were the perfect example of a society that could adopt the Nobility’s advanced technology without decimating their own civilization.