A Faded Star

by Michael Freeport

  “I'm sorry, sir.” Simmons felt her face heat under the reprimand. She wasn't used to being on the receiving end of such speeches. “I guess I've been in the laboratory for so long, conducting research and had my own team I felt like the cruise aboard the Rampart was a bit of a vacation. I have no excuse, sir.”

  “I'm glad you recognize those points, lieutenant. Please see to it you remember these things when you step onto the bridge of my or any ship again.”

  “Aye, sir.” Simmons fervently hoped the conversation was coming to an end. Three hundred years. She had to find out how they did that.

  “Very good, Lieutenant. Now see to your duties.” Stokes turned and began striding up the boarding tube. Simmons looked wistfully at the elevator Thun had disappeared into for a moment. She shook her head slightly and followed Stokes back aboard the Rampart.

  The following days were filled with the business of repairing the Rampart. The call Stokes had been anticipating did not come until the morning of the fourth day after returning to the space dock. Stokes was reviewing some requisitions when his comm panel beeped for his attention. Stokes tapped the acceptance button and was greeted by the sight of Admiral Vesper looking out at him. “Admiral, good morning.”

  “Good morning, Commodore. How are your repairs proceeding?”

  “We are working as fast as possible. I expect Rampart to be returned to full readiness at least a week ahead of schedule.”

  “Excellent. Please pass my compliments along to your crew.”

  “I'll be happy to, sir. What can I do for you?”

  “I have new orders for you, Mister Stokes. The formal packet will be arriving this afternoon, but I wanted to personally comm you and let you know what's coming. The Rampart is being dispatched to investigate what is now being referred to as the origin signal. The signal appears to be coming from a system thirteen light years from Lashmere. You'll have to make three jumps to get there, and we don't know what might be waiting for you at the other end. I want you to exercise the utmost caution and care on this trip, Commodore.

  “We decoded the signal from a comparison between the signal sent by Thun's scout ship and the origin tablet. As Lieutenant Simmons' report indicated, the signal is highly directional. The only way we could know about it is that it is deliberately being directed towards this planet. Whoever set the signal up wants us to receive it.”

  “I understand, sir. If I may ask, how are the diplomats making out?”

  “They've provided me with precious little information, but as far as I can tell, the alliance Thun is part of is even more massive than he originally indicated. We're expecting a formal diplomatic delegation from his government in about two weeks. Beyond that, the politicians aren't sharing anything.”

  “Interesting. Have we learned anything about these 'crabs'?”

  “Nothing yet. I share your curiosity, Commodore. The information has flowed almost exclusively one way thus far. Thun has been asking many questions and answering very few. When I know, I will advise you.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Of course. Stay sharp, Commodore. Admiral Vesper, out.” The screen switched back to the requisition report Stokes had been looking at before the Admiral had called.

  Stokes leaned back in his chair and pondered how he would complete his mission. The distance meant no other ship in the Lashmere Navy would be able to respond or even know if there was a problem once the Rampart arrived in this adjacent star system. Pulling his astrometric chart up, Stokes scrolled through the nearby systems. There it was, Buckman's Star. Stokes had no idea where the name came from, but he knew some of the system designations were held over from the last time humans had been able to traverse the vast distances between the stars. Three jumps. Looking at the map, Stokes began considering how he would enter the system at all. There was a large nebula not too far off of the projected shortest course. There may be some value in stopping to investigate the nebula on either the outbound or return leg of their journey. The remaining information on this system was frustratingly vague. No planetary data, only that the system's primary was a red giant that had gone supernova some million or so years ago.

  Sighing, Stokes rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Orders or no orders he still had to get the Rampart back into fighting trim before making any interstellar journeys. He turned his attention back to the requisition report.

  Patho walked into the shipyard gym, ready for his daily workout but stopped when he saw Marli Simmons standing in the center of one of the exercise mats. She was standing perfectly still in a stylized posture that Patho recognized as one of the advanced martial arts forms. Her back was to him as she stood, waiting for the moment of perfect balance. Without warning, she exploded into motion her arms and legs carving graceful and lethal arcs of motion that sequentially focused maximum energy onto the striking part of a hand, foot or another body part. As she finished the choreographed set of movements, she turned and saw Aden standing there.

  “Ah, I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know you wanted to use this mat.” Her breath was coming hard, and sweat stood out on her skin.

  “I was just watching you, Miss Simmons. Do you ever have anyone to practice with or do you just work the forms alone?”

  “I worked out with some of the Marines aboard the Rampart, but they're all assigned to training on the surface until Rampart's repairs are over.” She placed her hands on her knees and breathed hard for a moment before smiling up at Patho.

  That explained why he had never seen her practicing aboard the Rampart. The Marines had a separate fitness facility. “From your style, I am not as advanced as you, but I would enjoy sparring with you if you want.”

  “Sounds great, sir.”

  “While we are sparring, there's no need for rank. Call me Aden.'

  Simmons smiled a smile that made her entire face light up. “Okay, Aden. Do you want to start with the second form or do you want to just jump into the heavy stuff?”

  Over the next hour, Aden got the best workout he had had in weeks. As a bonus, he also learned a lot about Miss Simmons. Despite being one of, if not the, smartest scientists of her generation, she also followed a strict regimen of fitness and health activities.

  The pair walked out of the gym together and almost flattened Kri coming in.

  “Oh, hi, Mister Patho, Marli,” Kri said. He paused, an unreadable light coming into his eyes. “I was just getting started on my workout. Are you both done?”

  “Yes, Hal,” Patho said. “Have a good workout.

  Kri nodded and entered the gym. Patho and Simmons headed down the passageway talking and laughing. Simmons was hanging on Patho's arm. They were headed for Patho's quarters.

  Kri watched them until they rounded the turn. Sighing, he shook his head and muttered, “Well, I guess that was never going to happen anyway.” Kri got a particularly vigorous workout done that day.

  Chapter 4

  Linis Hanlon looked over the master repair status board at her office computer terminal while tapping notes into her data pad for the coming day. The intervening three weeks had followed a routine sequence of repair, test and certification of each damaged system on the Rampart. Stokes was the commanding officer of the ship, but it was Hanlon who had to coordinate all of the repair efforts and bring status reports to the commodore. She took particular satisfaction in seeing the ship's systems coming back to life and knew her efforts were yielding results. The yard was nearly a week ahead of the original schedule.

  Hanlon had been surprised to learn that Patho and Simmons had struck up a shipboard romance. Patho didn't seem the type to attract Simmons. Linis chuckled silently to herself. She looked over her office with a momentary sense of wistful longing. There were no options for her, of course, with no peers or separate command structures on board aside from the Marines. She suppressed a shudder. Just what she needed, some meat-headed muscle freak who could barely restrain himself from pummeling everything that made a loud bang in his presence.

  She
put thoughts of physical comfort firmly out of her mind. She began working through the day's priorities when she received a comm request. Tapping the acceptance key on her console, she saw Commodore Stokes' face. “Good morning, sir. I haven't yet compiled the day's work priorities.”

  “Never mind that, exec. I need you to come up to my office. I need to apprise you of some new developments.” The comm screen switched back to the standby logo.

  She considered the abruptness with which Stokes had delivered his summons. “I guess he means now.” Linis put aside the tablet she had been working on and stood taking a moment to make sure her uniform appearance was acceptable. After a momentary straightening and dusting herself off, she walked out the door.

  The door to Commodore Stokes' office opened when she tapped the chime. “Come in, exec.” Stokes' voice said to her through the open doorway. Hanlon stepped into the spacious and luxurious office. She was surprised to see Admiral Vesper there as well.

  “Good morning, sirs.” She stood to attention and waited for orders, but her eyes never stopped roaming the room, looking for clues as to why she was there.

  As it turned out, she didn't have to wait for long. “Sit down, commander, “ Stokes said. “Admiral Vesper and I have a briefing for you. First, I am going to share everything we've learned about the alien alliance. You may have heard rumors about the diplomatic situation. We'll go into what kind of agreement they've been striking up with our diplomats. After that, well, I don't want to ruin the surprise, but you are in for some excellent news.”

  Linis sat down and waited attentively while Stokes got his display ready for the briefing. “Before we begin, I want to say what a fine job you have been doing here with Rampart's repairs, exec.”

  “Thank you, sir. I am eager to return to space.”

  “Your efforts have been credited directly with us being so far ahead of schedule. I won't go into how many people have complained about what a slave driver you've been.” Stokes favored her with one of his rare smiles. “Your independence of thought and ability to organize chaotic situations into understandable components is why you have been asked here specifically.”

  Linis barely stifled a laugh. Her organization had felt rushed and confused the entire time Rampart has been in the yards being repaired. “Thank you, sir.” Her eyes shone with mischief, and she continued, “I take it I am here to be flogged for working the yard crew so hard, then?”

  Admiral Vesper choked on the water he was drinking before laughing. “You have an irreverent streak, Commander.”

  “I suppose I do, sir,” Hanlon said. She winked at the venerable admiral conspiratorially and said, “It helps when I'm taking the strap to yet another slow worker to crack a joke just before I whack 'em.” Hanlon demonstrated by snapping an invisible whip above her head. Vesper just shook his head while chuckling to himself. She did have the good sense not to add a sound effect to her pantomime.

  Stokes cleared his throat. “The diplomats have worked out a non-aggression treaty and pact of mutual aid with the alien alliance.”

  “Can you tell me a bit about the alliance. I've only heard some of the rumors and none of the facts,” Hanlon said.

  “The alliance is more than five thousand years old and consists of five different species. They've coexisted peacefully among themselves, sharing economic, scientific and social developments to the betterment of their commingled society. The alliance hasn't been challenged militarily since its earliest days. The diplomats were a bit vague, but I think it's mostly because so much time has passed. My impression from the meeting minutes was that they originally formed the alliance to fend off an aggressive species but haven't been concerned with military development since then.

  “The race we've been calling crabs, they do have a name, but it's unpronounceable, began making incursions into alliance space about two years ago. The crabs haven't communicated other than to warn the alliance that all resources and useful materials in any system they enter is now their property and for any alliance ships not wanting to be destroyed to depart the system at their best speed.

  “As a result of their stagnant military development, the alliance is ill prepared to defend themselves against a hostile and aggressive invader. Their fleet consists of ships that are hastily built and make poor use of their technology. This leads us to you, Commander.”

  Hanlon sat forward in her chair, waiting eagerly to hear what the Commodore said next. Her mind was racing at the possibilities.

  Stokes continued, “The alliance has asked for, and will receive as a part of the preliminary agreement, an expeditionary force of humans to act as military advisers and strategic experts. We are also obligated as a part of this agreement to assist in maximizing the military effectiveness of the alliance's current offensive and defensive technology. When the admiralty was discussing possible leaders for this expedition, Admiral Drogue was the obvious choice. He has, after contemplation, selected you as his executive officer. The assignment carries a promotion to captain.” Stokes looked at Admiral Vesper, who gave him a slight smile and a nod. “What do you say, Miss Hanlon?”

  Hanlon was stunned. Admiral William Drogue had retired immediately upon the surrender of the Karn nation. The man had been the mastermind behind the entire war effort against the Karn. “I remember his retirement speech. I didn't think there was anything that would get him back into uniform after his remarks that day.”

  Vesper nodded and said, “I didn't think so, either, but he's agreed to command this expeditionary force. I suspect he intends to rely quite heavily on you, Miss Hanlon.”

  Stokes said, “I know you've been expecting to join the Rampart on her trip to Buckman's star. I don't think I have to tell you what a great opportunity this is. Admiral Drogue is the finest military commander from the Ebrim-Karn war. His experience should be invaluable to the alliance.”

  “Sirs, I expect this question has already been asked. How much do we trust this alien alliance? We only know what they've told us. There's no assurance they won't take our knowledge and turn it against us.”

  Vesper nodded. “This question has, indeed, been asked. Admiral Drogue brought it up in about the same amount of time. The answer we have come up with is that the alliance already seems overwhelmed with the crabs. They won't want to go picking fights with us as well.”

  Stokes said, “If we can make allies of them, we stand to gain access to some pretty advanced technology as well. We will be soliciting volunteers to join the expeditionary force next week. The plan is to have a force sufficient to provide crews for a dozen or so of their capital ships. The overall duty is to drill the alliance force into something more military and to make suggestions on weapons and defensive advancements based on their current tech.”

  “I understand, sir,” Hanlon said. “I have some other questions as well.”

  “Proceed, Captain,” Vesper said.

  “Who will be replacing me as executive officer on the Rampart?”

  “As to that, Captain, you will be relieved of your position as executive officer this afternoon. Mister Kri has been at the advance command school for the last two weeks. Your turnover will cover the remaining repair time in the shipyard, and you should ship out to the alliance forward command base about the same time Rampart leaves for Buckman's star.”

  “Hal?” Linis was a bit mystified at the idea. Kri had always been a bit unsure of himself and often needed guidance when given the latitude to make decisions for himself.

  “Yes, Captain. Hal.” Stokes confirmed. “You think, perhaps I can't polish him into a fine executive officer?”

  “Of course not, sir. I just wasn't sure he was ready. I mean no offense and I certainly don't mean to second guess your decision, sir.”

  “Go ahead, Linis, let me hear it.”

  “Well, he needs guidance, and he loses perspective so easily in dynamic situations, sir. I'm concerned he may need another year or two to season himself for a position like executive officer.”

 
“You're correct, Miss Hanlon, and your insight only proves you are ready for such a large and important independent command like the expeditionary force. Let me worry about Mister Kri's deficiencies. The Rampart will be all right.”

  “Why not advance Aden Patho to the executive officer position? He is more than qualified and has demonstrated an uncanny ability to utilize the new drone system. I have also found him to be a highly capable officer despite the fact that most of his peers seem to view him with varying degrees of suspicion.”

  Stokes and Vesper exchanged an unreadable look. It was the Admiral who responded. “Your evaluation of Lieutenant Commander Patho is spot on, Captain. He is a highly capable officer. The admiralty discussed promoting him but, ultimately, decided we need his expertise in the position where he's currently assigned.”

  “Of course, sir,” Hanlon grinned. “I suppose it will be hard to stop trying to give you advice.”

  “Your observations are always welcome, Miss Hanlon. Your promotion and change of command ceremony is at sixteen hundred. I'll see you there.”

  Linis recognized the dismissal when she heard it. She stood to attention and then strode out of the commodore's office.

  Stokes turned to Admiral Vesper. “She took that far better than I thought she would. I half expected her to refuse promotion to stay aboard the Rampart.”

  “That woman is an adventurer of the highest order,” Vesper said, his voice carried a note of wistfulness. “If I were twenty years younger, I would go myself. Unfortunately, I'm needed here far too much to go. There are only seven admirals, and we need all of them here to maintain chain of command for the Lashmere system. Bringing Admiral Drogue out of retirement is the best we can do to ensure the success of the expeditionary force. Miss Hanlon will have to make do.”