Ep.#15 - That Which Other Men Cannot Do (The Frontiers Saga)

by Ryk Brown

  “This should be good,” Jessica said.

  Nathan watched the view screen on the wall of his ready room, as the camera switched from the interviewer to Admiral Galiardi.

  “I’d be glad to, Meredith. First of all, although then Lieutenant Scott was in fact handed command by the legal commander of the Aurora prior to succumbing to his injuries, according to EDF regulations, the acting captain did not have the same authority as the legal captain, which means Lieutenant Scott did not have the authority to enter into agreements on behalf of the EDF and Earth itself. As the acting commanding officer of the Aurora, he only had the authority to make decisions to ensure the safe return of the ship and her crew back to EDF control, at which time a new legal commanding officer would have been appointed.”

  “That’s a crock!” Jessica snorted.

  “Ssh! I’m trying to listen,” Nathan scolded.

  “But when the Aurora arrived back in the Sol system, the Jung had already seized control of Earth, and the EDF had surrendered,” the interviewer said.

  “That’s irrelevant to the question of whether or not the Alliance is binding upon the people of Earth,” the admiral insisted. “The question is whether or not the formation of this alliance was reasonably necessary in order to ensure the Aurora’s safe return to EDF control. When you look at the performance logs of the Aurora’s jump drive while she was still in the Pentaurus cluster, it becomes apparent that she probably could have made it home unaided, possibly even before the Jung invaded.”

  “Now that is a crock!” Jessica blurted out.

  “Jess…”

  “You know damn well we wouldn’t have made it home in time, even if we had headed back immediately.”

  “We can’t know that for sure,” Nathan reminded her.

  “Even if we had, we would have been in no shape to take on the Jung fleet that invaded Earth,” Jessica argued. “And we wouldn’t have any of the weapons or technology that we have now…”

  “Jess, please,” Nathan begged.

  “But he is so full of shit.”

  “The EDF did not cease to exist after we surrendered to the Jung. The fact is, a highly trained force went underground—myself included—all according to a plan devised years prior,” Admiral Galiardi told the reporter.

  “So, you’re saying that the surrender was all part of some elaborate plan?” the interviewer asked for clarification.

  “Precisely,” the admiral replied. “We determined a long time ago that if the Jung came at us with more than a dozen or so ships, Earth would likely fall. Surrender was our backup plan. We had been stockpiling arms and munitions for years. We even laid traps out among the asteroids in hopes of luring Jung ships in and destroying them. When we surrendered, everyone who knew of the plan went into hiding, including all of our scout ships. The idea was to wait in hiding, and attack when opportunities presented themselves.”

  “But you were captured by the Jung, tortured by them…”

  “I wasn’t exactly tortured,” the admiral corrected.

  “You spent the better part of a year in the hospital because of capture…”

  “Not because of torture,” the admiral corrected. “Most of my injuries were the result of my attempts to evade capture.”

  “And the neurological injuries that you sustained?” the interviewer asked.

  “Those were the result of the more aggressive nanite protocols the Jung used to extract information from me.”

  “Wouldn’t that be called torture?”

  “Perhaps, but not in the traditional sense. But we are wandering from the point, here, Meredith. The fact of the matter is, the EDF did not technically surrender. Therefore, it should still exist as a military entity. An entity governed by the duly elected leaders of Earth, and not by people from halfway across the galaxy.”

  “But Admiral, haven’t those people volunteered to help us? Haven’t they been sacrificing themselves to help protect Earth?”

  “Yes, and we should be forever grateful,” the admiral agreed. “I just don’t think we should be allowing them to have control over our people and our ships.”

  “I can’t watch this crap any longer,” Jessica said, picking up the remote and turning off the view screen in disgust.

  “Maybe I wanted to watch it?” Nathan said, displeased.

  “He’s just trying to make waves,” she insisted. “He’s just trying to call attention to himself.”

  “To what end?” Nathan questioned.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he wants to run for president, or something?”

  “Strange way of going about it. From what I’ve seen on the Earth nets, most Terrans support the Alliance and are damn glad that we created it.”

  “That’s just because of Takaran fabrication technology,” Jessica insisted. “Without it, most of us would still be living in makeshift camps.”

  “Plenty of us still are, Jess,” Nathan pointed out.

  “There are more than a thousand fabricators chugging away on the surface,” Jessica replied, “and they’re making more of them every day. Because of them, we’re recovering faster than anyone could have dreamed. In a few years, it will be like it never happened.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” Nathan muttered.

  “Not as long as there are people like Galiardi out there, spouting his mouth off and stirring up dissent.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that he might actually believe what he is saying?” Nathan asked. “I mean, we are spread a little thin, after all. Sure, all of the worlds that we’ve liberated thus far will be within our maximum double-jump range, but if we keep expanding, that won’t be the case. There is a logical argument to be made for concentrating on our own safety, before going out and liberating everyone else.”

  “It didn’t stop you from liberating Tanna,” Jessica argued, “and they’re way outside our double-jump range.”

  “Yes, but we desperately needed propellant at the time.”

  “That’s my point. It was a calculated risk, just like attacking the battle group at Alpha Centauri B, and Tau Ceti, and all the others. That’s the way wars work. Risk versus reward. Galiardi should know that. Which is why I’m crying foul here, Nathan. If that old fart was still in command, he’d have us obliterating everything with a Jung logo on it throughout the sector. He’s just bitching because he’s not in command, and he desperately wants to be.”

  “Perhaps,” Nathan admitted, “but it won’t happen anytime soon, that’s for sure. Not as long as my father is in office.”

  * * *

  Commander Telles stood at the rail of the watchtower, looking out across the training grounds. In the distance, he could see a group of men making their way through the obstacle course. Directly opposite, he could see another group on the rifle range, and a third group on the handgun range. In front of him, several groups were receiving instruction in hand-to-hand combat from Ghatazhak sergeants. He watched as, one by one, the trainees failed to disarm their Ghatazhak instructors. He sighed.

  “It’s only been four days, Commander,” Master Sergeant Jahal reminded him, noticing his frustration. “I doubt I could disarm Sergeant Toomey myself.”

  “They have determination, but they have no skills.” The commander looked at the master sergeant. “They will be easy fodder for the Jung.”

  “They may yet surprise you,” Master Sergeant Jahal said. “A few of them do have some natural skills.” Both men winced as one of the trainees hit the ground hard after being thrown by his instructor. “Not that one, obviously,” the master sergeant said, holding back a laugh. “Perhaps he will do well on the range?”

  “How is the body armor coming along?” the commander asked.

  “The engineers have come up with a modified system that combines the EDF tactical protective gear with our own tactical helmet, comms, and power packs. They will not have the full capabilities of our combat gear, but it will provide considerable protection, and more importantly, it will link up with our own tactical
data systems.”

  “An odd combination, is it not?”

  “There was already plenty of EDF gear available, and the additional Ghatazhak elements can be fabricated easily enough.”

  “But the EDF gear was designed to defend against projectile weapons,” the commander said.

  “Yes, but they create a decent substructure to which we can easily attach our own elements. Trust that the men will be adequately protected.”

  “It would be better if we could put them all in full level-two Ghatazhak combat gear.”

  “The assistive undergarment is more complex to fabricate, especially if it must be done so for different sizes. And without the undergarment, our combat gear is rather heavy.”

  “Yes, I remember,” the commander said, recalling the days spent training without functioning assistive undergarments.

  “They are also working on various modifications, such as more heavily armored versions for the front lines, and even combat shields that can be carried for additional protection.”

  “Sounds rather cumbersome.”

  “Perhaps,” the master sergeant admitted, “but these men will not be trained to fight in the same style as the Ghatazhak. Therefore, they will require different gear.”

  “A wise observation, my friend,” the commander said, as he watched one of the trainees below finally manage to perform the disarming move correctly. He looked at his master sergeant. “Well, that’s one.”

  * * *

  “You want to send them our fighter pilots?” Commander Montague asked in disbelief. “Excuse me, sir, but whose brilliant idea was that?”

  “Mine, actually,” Captain Navarro replied.

  “I see,” the Avendahl’s wing commander said.

  “We are not likely to see significant action in the near future, Commander. Even if we did, it would likely be ship-to-ship, not fighter engagements. And we are surely not engaging in any ground assaults requiring close air support in the months to come. In fact, it is quite likely that we will remain here, in the Darvano system, for the next few years.”

  “But, Captain…”

  “It would only be a loan,” Captain Navarro explained, “until they can train new pilots from Alliance worlds in the Sol sector.”

  Commander Montague sighed. “I wasn’t aware that they even had any fighters.”

  “They do not. But they soon will. The first Super Eagle will roll off their new production line in about a week’s time. Within a few months, they will have two full squadrons. Your men would not only be helping to train their new pilots, but they would be gaining valuable combat experience.”

  “Assuming they don’t get killed,” the commander protested. “If I remember correctly, their Eagles were no match for the Jung fighters.”

  “The old Eagles, yes. The Super Eagles will be much more formidable,” Captain Navarro explained, trying to sell the commander on the idea. “Maybe even more formidable than our own.”

  “In the hands of my men, perhaps.”

  “Exactly my point. Meanwhile, we can begin training replacement pilots here, using Corinairans and Ancotans.”

  “Why?”

  “As you said, some of our pilots might not return. In addition, the demand for pilots in the Sol sector will always be high, just as it will be here. We might as well be prepared.”

  Commander Montague sighed again, resigning himself to the inevitable. “How many?”

  “Thirty-two,” the captain replied. “In four groups of eight.”

  “That’s a third of our pilots, Captain.”

  “I was going to ask for half,” Captain Navarro confessed.

  “Fine, thirty-two it is. How soon will they be leaving?”

  “Thirty days, at the most. I have already received the specifications on the Super Eagles for your men to study, so they can be prepared to get to work as soon as they arrive.”

  “Will there even be enough ships for them to fly when they arrive?” the commander asked.

  “No, but they can take turns until more ships are built. The remaining groups will not be sent until their ships are ready. That will give our first eight pilots plenty of time to get to know their ships, and be able to pass their expertise on to the rest of their fellow pilots when they arrive.”

  * * *

  Captain Nash watched the monitors as crew inside the simulator went about the business of crashing their ship into an asteroid. “Cause?” he asked the simulation controller.

  “I gave them a failure in the port bow thrusters,” the technician replied. “They were on final approach to perform a slingshot maneuver around the asteroid when I initiated the failure.”

  “At what range?”

  “A few hundred meters.”

  “A little close, don’t you think?”

  “It should have been enough time for them to compensate with the docking thrusters instead,” the tech insisted.

  “Yeah, but this crew has what, ten hours of sim time? Maybe you should throw it at them at a distance of at least a kilometer to start with.”

  “You said to be tough on them, sir.”

  “Yeah, I know,” the captain admitted. “But ease them into the hard stuff. We can’t afford to shake their confidence too much in the beginning. If they have too many failures early on, they’ll be second-guessing themselves forever.”

  “As you wish, Captain,” the technician replied.

  “Give it to them again, from further out.”

  “The same problem?”

  “Yes, the same problem. Let them realize that they are able to work the problem.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Robert leaned back in his chair and ran his hands over his face and up through his hair.

  “How long since you’ve slept?” Lieutenant Commander Rano asked.

  Robert turned in surprise, having not heard his XO enter the simulator control room. “I don’t know.” He glanced at the time display on the wall. “Twenty hours, maybe? How did the flight go?”

  “It went well. Room for improvement, of course, but overall I think Captain Annatah and his crew are ready to start their service tour.”

  “Great,” Robert replied. “Let’s get them out on a standard perimeter patrol. It’ll be boring as all hell, but it’ll be good for them to get some time in space without anyone looking over their shoulders or yelling at them over the comms.”

  “I’ll send them out first thing tomorrow.”

  “What about Cobra Three?”

  “Rescheduled,” the lieutenant commander replied. “Problem with a power coupling. I’m going to take out Cobra Four instead.”

  “Are they ready?”

  “We will see. How is the next group doing in the simulators?”

  Captain Nash groaned in frustration. “Not as well as the last bunch, that’s for sure. I’m having Tori ease up on them a bit, try and build their confidence before we start slamming them with impossible scenarios.”

  “Are you sure that is wise?”

  “You too?”

  “I am only asking,” the lieutenant commander said. “The second pair of simulators will be operational in a few days. That should help.”

  “We can only hope,” Captain Nash said.

  Lieutenant Commander Rano paused a moment, unsure if he should say what was on his mind. “May I offer a suggestion, Captain?” he asked, sheepishly.

  “Sure, Izzu.”

  “Before simulator two was officially online, I spent several hours in her by myself, just flying her around the system. Nothing fancy, just practicing whatever maneuvers I wished. At times, I would just coast, and fiddle with the systems, just to become more at ease with everything. I believe it made me much more relaxed in the cockpit, as I had the time to become familiar with my surroundings, all without any pressure. Perhaps, that is what this crew needs?”

  “I’m not sure we have the time to let crews just play around in the sims, Izzu.”

  “Maybe try it with just this crew. Give them an hour or t
wo by themselves. You and Tori can get something to eat. See what happens.”

  “I could use a break, I suppose.” Captain Nash turned to the technician. “What about you, Tori? You hungry?”

  “I could eat.”

  “Very well.” Captain Nash tapped his comm-set. “Ensign Poray, Ensign Ullweir, the ship is yours for the next two hours. Do whatever you’d like.”

  “Sir?” Ensign Poray replied in confusion over the comms.

  “You heard me, Ensign. Do whatever you want. Fly her into an asteroid. Fly her into the sun. Fly her into an ocean. Do loops and rolls for two hours if you’d like. Hell, you can even put her on auto-pilot and take a nap, if that’s what you think you need to practice. Specialist Tori and I are going to get a bite to eat, and watch a movie or something. When we get back, we’ll get back to it.”

  “But sir, what if we crash? Who is going to reset the simulation?”

  Captain Nash smiled. “See that you don’t, Ensign. Otherwise, it’s going to be a long, boring two hours.” Captain Nash stood up. “Come on, Tori, let’s go.” He looked at Lieutenant Commander Rano. “You comin’ with, Izzu?”

  “Of course.”

  * * *

  “It is an impressive ship, indeed,” Admiral Dumar said as they made their way across the Celestia’s port flight deck. “Your people have done well, Captain. You have gotten your ship fully operational more than a week ahead of schedule.”

  “Thank you, sir, but there are still a few bugs to work out,” Cameron replied.

  “As expected. I assume that you have prepared a training schedule for the Aurora’s crew?”

  “Of course,” Cameron replied, handing her data pad to the admiral.

  Admiral Dumar looked over the schedule on the data pad, before passing it to Nathan. “Have you had a chance to look at this?”

  “No, sir, but I’m sure it will be fine,” Nathan replied as he took the pad from the admiral.

  “Very well.” Admiral Dumar turned back toward Cameron. “I thank you for indulging me, Captain. The tour was quite enjoyable. She’s a fine ship, and I’m sure you’ll do us proud.”

  “We won’t let you down, sir.”

  “Captain,” the admiral said, bidding farewell to Captain Scott as he turned and headed toward his shuttle.