A Faded Star

by Michael Freeport

  “Welcome aboard, Commander,” Stokes said. He repeated the ritual with the computer.

  The next man to step up was as dark of feature as Bendel was pale. When he spoke, his words came out so fast it was almost hard to understand him. “Sir, my name is Lieutenant Commander Ira Lokin. I'm your assigned tactical officer.”

  Stokes smiled at the man's obviously nervous demeanor. Both he and Woodard seemed pretty young for both their ranks and their assignments. Stokes said, “Welcome aboard, Commander.”

  The last person in line was a tall and obviously fit woman. She wore the stripes of a senior chief petty officer. She stepped forward and saluted smartly. Stokes returned the courtesy, and the woman spoke, “Sir, I'm Senior Chief Nielson. I'm your senior enlisted crew assigned.”

  “Welcome aboard, chief.” Stoked stood and addressed his assembled crew, “We expect most of the crew to be assigned in the next several hours. Take your stations and begin reactor startup as soon as we have sufficient personnel on the ship. When the full crew compliment has arrived, we'll maneuver down space dock to an open berth. Exec, comm the space dock comm center and request an assignment. The sooner we clear Aeternum, the sooner they can start on the next battleship.”

  The crew sprang into action. Their unfamiliarity with the ship and its operation made their efforts awkward and almost comical at times, the comm request being routed to multiple incorrect locations before the shipyard responded.

  Two hours passed, waiting for additional crew arrivals. As the last assigned personnel arrived, Stokes ordered the ship to engage maneuvering thrusters to move clear of Aeternum. “Begin test of the active sensor system and integrate communications with the system sensor net, Miss Woodard,” Stokes ordered.

  “Aye, sir,” Woodard said. Her treble voice sounded almost panicked as she tapped at her console with a look of concentration pinching her features. After a moment, she said, “Integration complete, sir. The sensor system is coming online now. Internal diagnostic complete. System reports one hundred percent functionality.”

  “Very well, Miss Woodard. ETA to our assigned berth, exec?”

  “Ten minutes, sir. We've been assigned the first open berth past the manufacturing rings.”

  “Very well. Put the Aeternum on the main plot.” The massive display came on and showed the ship in breathtaking detail. At least ten tugs were pulling massive blocks of raw materials into the center of Aeternum for the next ship in the construction queue. “I'm glad to see the resource gathering effort is in full swing already. Hopefully, we can keep up the build rate until the fleet's done.”

  The Victorious docked and shut down her maneuvering thrusters. Stokes was overseeing a series of battle simulations when a familiar face entered his bridge.

  Marli Simmons walked onto the bridge with a look of apprehension on her face. Seeing Stokes bent over the science console, she walked purposefully to him. “Sir, may I have a few minutes of your time?”

  “What are you doing aboard, Miss Simmons,” Stokes asked. He turned and said to Woodard, “Carry on, Lieutenant. I'll rejoin you in a few moments.” Woodard nodded, and Stokes escorted Simmons to his office just off of the bridge. Once settled into the chair behind his desk, Stokes said, “What can I do for you, Miss Simmons?” He noticed she'd been promoted to a full commander rank.

  “Sir, I've been at command school for the last four weeks. I wanted to say thank you for starters.” Stokes' eyebrows rose in surprise at the words. “If it wasn't for you coming down so hard on me, I wouldn't have been prepared for the expectations at command school. I've been assigned to the science vessel, the prototype, as executive officer.”

  “No name picked out for it, yet, commander?”

  “Well, there's no assigned commanding officer, either. I expect they're waiting for someone to tell them what to name all these ships.”

  “Just have the manufacturing complex assign appropriate names for each ship. We have too much to concentrate on to wrack our brains with such details at this point. Any name that just stinks can be changed.”

  “That's a good idea, sir. I'll assign the Aeternum to name assignment when I go back aboard. What did you name this ship?”

  “Victorious.”

  “I like it, sir. I hope it's prophetic.”

  “So do I, commander.” Simmons made no move to get up and seemed to be preparing to say something else. Stokes waited patiently for the woman to collect her thoughts.

  “There is something else I wanted to ask you about, sir.” She waited for Stokes to nod before continuing, “I've compiled a list of advanced scientific facilities where the Terran Empire was conducting highly advanced and classified research. Some of these planets had advanced weapons tech, others were working on medical research. Some were engaged in pure scientific exploration. I wanted to float this idea with you in the hope you would advocate it with the rest of the admirals for me. I'd like to mount an expedition to these medical research facilities in hopes of finding the research on the virus the alliance unleashed on our ancestors. Neutralizing the alliance's weapon has to be a priority for us, sir.”

  “I'm in agreement with your sentiment, Miss Simmons. The issue is not one of importance but of timing. We don't know if the crabs will attack us or if the alliance is even willing to employ the virus again. I'll take your idea to the board of admirals and see what's decided. I expect we'll need to at least wait until the crabs have attacked the Xalcek system before we make a firm decision.”

  “Are they headed there, sir?”

  “The last set of sensor scans show them leaving the alliance forward base and heading towards Xalcek. We won't know for sure for another day or two. At the speed the crabs have been traveling, it will take them another four weeks to get to Xalcek. We've also picked up a small group of ships coming here from Xalcek. They're moving quite fast, so we don't think it's a military maneuver. Probably they're sending some kind of diplomatic overture.”

  “What if they're here to attack us with the virus?”

  “We're ready for any attack of that kind. Intelligence thinks they'll have to launch some kind of torpedo in order to infect Lashmere. If they do, we'll nuke the entire area.”

  Simmons nodded slightly. “We should gather up any research the old empire had in any event. They probably knew quite a bit about the virus.”

  “I'll communicate with the other admirals, commander. Once I hear back with a consensus, I'll let you know.”

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your time.”

  “My pleasure, Miss Simmons. Congratulations on your new rank and assignment.”

  “I should have said the same to you, sir.” Simmons blushed bright red in embarrassment. “Congratulations, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Simmons stood, saluted and left the office. Stokes watched her leave. His thoughts were focused on the changes in Simmons' personality. Her attitude had made a complete turnaround in the short time she'd been at command school. Something was motivating her that he could not explain. Two months ago, she wouldn't have even bothered noticing the difference in their ranks, much less her newly acquired military bearing. Shaking off his uncertainty about her motivations, he went back to the bridge to continue training his new crew.

  The alliance ships arrived two days later. Victorious was moved out to meet them at the edge of the Lashmere system. Victorious was joined in formation by the newly named science vessel, the Loki, and the first assault cruiser built at the shipyard. Rampart and Rook were also moved out in a defensive location between Victorious and Lashmere itself.

  Stokes sent his ship to battle stations a few minutes before the alliance ships arrived in system. The comparatively tiny crew took only a couple of minutes to get into their assigned positions.

  “All battle stations are manned, admiral,” Bendel reported.

  “Very well. Let's see what the alliance wants.” A tense few minutes passed until four alliance ships came out of FTL twenty thousand kilometers from the human ships. The ships we
re small, no larger than the corvettes Lashmere was building. Long, narrow ships, obviously built for speed. “Put me on instant comms, Miss Woodard,” Stokes said.

  “You're on, Admiral.”

  “Alliance ships, this is Admiral Stokes of the Lashmere Space Navy. Please state your intentions.”

  There was a delay of several minutes, during which Stokes' crew became increasingly restless.

  “Sir, we're getting a response from the lead alliance ship,” Woodard said.

  “Put it on the main plot.”

  The plot update to display a Xalcek officer. He said, “Greetings from the alliance. I am Commander Ktenu. Who do I have the honor of communicating with?”

  “Hello, commander. My name is Admiral Stokes. What can we do for you?”

  “The reason for our visit is three fold. First, we would like you to return the alliance ship still in your possession.”

  “We can agree to that, commander. I'll have word sent for it to be towed to the edge of the system.” Stokes nodded to Bendel, who started a message on his console.

  “We have come to advise you of the termination of our pact of mutual aid. Our analysis of human activities thus far indicate you've collaborated with the crabs either through intent or negligence. This is a wholly unacceptable development. We demand you provide restitution and submit your leadership to alliance justice.”

  “That's quite the accusation, commander. I can say that the Lashmere Navy categorically denies any collusion with the crabs. Would you care to elaborate?”

  “During the time humans were stationed at our base, they provided projections on crab fleet movements. Those projections were uncannily accurate. We find it impossible to believe this is a coincidence. We believe your officers informed the crabs of the best ways to attack us. They used their position of trust to accumulate tactical data and then found a way to send it to the crabs without us detecting it.”

  “Do you have any proof of your accusations, Commander Ktenu?”

  “We've discovered several unauthorized breaches of our computer systems by your forces. We know you've taken copies of our database. We demand you delete all of the stolen data and return our property to us immediately.”

  “The ship is being prepared for towing now, commander. Regarding your accusation of data breaches, I'm not aware of any theft of data. If we are in possession of stolen information, I'll launch an investigation. If culprits are found, they will be disciplined as appropriate.”

  “We insist they be held to alliance justice, admiral. Your system of law is incompatible with our requirements.”

  “Just what kind of punishment would be given for such an offense, commandeer?” Stokes asked.

  “If the offender was found to have stolen data, he may be publicly humiliated and then forced to serve others for a period of not less than twenty years. Anyone found to have directly conspired with the crabs would be given a lifetime sentence of servitude.”

  “I doubt we'll be submitting any of our people to any such punishment, commander.”

  “I must warn you, Admiral, we have found a way of turning the crabs to attack you, rather than us. If you insist on holding yourselves above the law, we will see to it the crabs come to Lashmere.”

  “That would result in the deaths of thousands, if not tens of thousands. What does your so called moral superiority say about that, Commander?”

  “We would not be the ones inflicting violence and death on you. We would have gained morality from such a move, having spared the lives of other, moral alliance members.”

  Stokes exchanged bewildered looks with his exec before responding. “Somehow, I don't think anyone here is going to agree with your point of view. I will pass your statements along to the rest of our leadership. You are directed not to enter any further into the system. Any movement towards Lashmere will be met with force. Do you understand?”

  “We do. We will be awaiting your reply, Admiral.”

  Chapter 13

  Admiral Coffee stared into his monitor in disbelief. The summary forwarded to him by Stokes presented him with an untenable dilemma. If the alliance could truly turn the crabs to attack Lashmere, they were far from ready. Coffee addressed the man sitting across his desk from him, “Agent Cobb, what's your analysis of the situation?”

  Cobb considered the question for several long seconds before responding. “The timeline for fleet construction is at least six months, Admiral. We've already run this through efficiency simulations to try to shave time off, but there are no materially better choices. Admiral Brand is driving his people as hard as he can.” Cobb was silent for a few more seconds before continuing, “I suggest we try to stall the alliance ships here for a time. If we can tie them up for a few days, or even better, a couple of weeks, that might buy us enough time to get a significant portion of our fleet built before the crabs can arrive here.”

  Coffee said, “Your department's projection is the crabs can't arrive here for another seven weeks at their best observed speed. I think we should assume the alliance ships will have to return to Xalcek before they can turn the crabs away. If they can turn them away. I'm still hoping they're bluffing. What do your timelines look like if the crabs actually have to approach Xalcek before they can be sent against us?”

  “Well, the alliance return to Xalcek should be limited to the Saber's top speed. That means almost eight weeks for their return. Add another ten weeks for the crabs to get their fleets joined and transit to Xalcek. Eight more for the crabs to get here.”

  “So on the short side, we're looking at eight weeks and on the long side, we have twenty-six weeks and at most. That's presuming the alliance can actually do what they claim. I don't like how close to the far end of that estimate our target completion for our fleet is.”

  Cobb said, “Unfortunately, we don't have any way to speed things up. We worked out the efficiency curves for things like building more tugs, more salvage ships, more construction docks. The plan we have is already in the top ten percent of any combination of these factors. The current plan also takes into account the time needed to recover the tugs and extra salvage ships.”

  Coffee folded his fingers in front of his face, resting his elbows on the desk and then rested his chin on his folded hands. He paused, considering his words for a long moment before continuing, “So the longer we can tie up the alliance ships here, the better.”

  Cobb shook his head. “Not necessarily. The time they spend at the edge of our system gives them the opportunity to run sensor scans and observe our operations. I would actually rather they depart immediately for security's sake.”

  “I think the alliance long range sensors are already telling them we're building a fleet. I doubt the closer range scans are telling them much more. I'd rather they be held here as long as possible.”

  “I understand.”

  “Moving on to a different subject, what's that status of the bombing investigation?”

  Cobb took a tablet computer out of his coat pocket and tapped away at it for several seconds before answering. “As you suspected, there's no direct connection between Patho's family and the Lashmere officer who carried out the attack.”

  “Agent Cobb, while I appreciate the enhanced scrutiny you've given Commander Patho in light of his assignment as the stealth corvette squadron as commanding officer, your suspicions are beginning to border on obsession. Like most Karn families, Patho had and does still have friends and family who have strong feelings about the Ebrim people. Personally, I still have a degree of discomfort having Karn in positions of such authority. What I can't do is allow my personal feelings to get in the way of running the Navy. Mister Patho has proved his loyalty and willingness to serve the people of Lashmere on several occasions. Now, please continue with the status of the investigation.”

  Cobb nodded and said, “I understand your point, Admiral. Lieutenant Barnes had a number of connections to the Patho family. His father served with Randall Patho, Aden Patho's father, in the war. There is
also evidence that Barnes was in regular communication with someone who might be acting as a go-between for Asher, Aden's older brother. We're still working on finding a way to monitor the separatist communication network. If Barnes had survived the bombing, we might have a better idea of how the attack was planned.”

  “Very well, Agent. Keep on it, but I don't want Commander Patho being dragged further into the dirt over this. I think we've sufficiently investigated any potential involvement he may have personally had.”

  “As you wish, Admiral.” Cobb busied himself tapping entries into his tablet computer.

  “With that out of the way, is there anything else in the intelligence briefing?”

  Cobb tapped at his tablet a few more times before answering. “No, admiral. Thank you for your time. I'll see myself out.”

  Coffee watched the man leave. He hoped the agent took him seriously when he'd warned him to leave Patho alone. He began working on a message, ordering Stokes to hold the alliance ships at the edge of the Lashmere system. After sending the first message, he then sent a message to the tug assigned to tow the Saber out, ordering them to delay as long as possible.

  Stokes sat in his office chair considering the orders Coffee had sent him. After a few moments, he tapped his comm and said, “Mister Bendel, come to my office.”

  A few minutes later, his executive officer walked through the open door. “Yes, sir?”

  “Have a seat, Commander. We have a few things to discuss. First, I want to ask how you're settling in to your new assignment?”

  “It's a bit overwhelming, sir. I was the operations officer aboard Bastion before she was decommissioned. I knew there was a possibility I'd receive a promotion, but executive officer on the new flagship is a rather large leap, sir.”

  “Any problems I need to know about?”

  “No, sir,” Bendel said, his words rushing out one atop the next. “If I had a problem I couldn't solve, I'd let you know.” He took a second to visibly slow his thoughts before continuing, “The pace we're setting with ship construction is so much faster than we can train new officers and crew to their assignments. Most of the officers who've been assigned as department heads have two years or less serving in space-going commands. Some of them have been sent here straight from the academy. Very few of them have anything like self-assuredness with their assigned duties.”