by M. Alan Marr
“It wasn’t sent just to me,” Dev says, pointing to the server, who they see delivering the pad to the Lieutenant. “It’s a system-wide communiqué to all military personnel.”
“How did she know your rank?”
“She initially handed the pad to you,” Dev says. “You gave it to me, which told her I was the senior officer between us. So she knew I had to be a Lieutenant Commander or above.”
“What if you were an Admiral?”
“Admirals are never out of uniform,” Dev says. “And they rarely travel with just one companion.”
“I see. What did it say?” Chaz adds, “If it’s okay to ask.”
Dev speaks quietly. “We already knew most of what took place. But this just confirmed that our base in the Constellation Triangulum has been completely destroyed by orbital bombardment. Triangulum is now in enemy possession. It will all be on the public news wire in a couple of hours, along with everything else.”
“Jesus, how many people?”
“The garrison’s complement was almost a hundred thousand plus their families; three large frigates, just like Adonis, all gone. One was in dry dock for repair, the other two had landed for crew rotation and provisioning.” Dev says, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I trained an entire squadron of those guys.”
Chaz knows this is not the time or place for displays of emotion, so whispers, “I’m sorry.”
Dev takes a breath and puts forth his best military detachment. “They were a fighter squadron. They may have gotten out.” He knows, and Chaz knows, this is probably false hope.
Dev adds, “Hopefully they went down fighting.”
“Yeah.” Chaz doesn’t know what to say. “Can we do anything?”
“No, I’m still under orders to take today and tomorrow off, so there is nothing I can really do.”
“Would those orders have changed?”
“If they had, it would have been in that cable. In addition to the rank-issue material, any message for me personally would have appeared when the pad read my identity.”
“Okay. What should we do then?”
“I think we should order a few more rounds.” Dev motions to the server to bring two more.
“What about getting hammered in uniform?”
“I’m not in uniform.”
“I am.”
“Then consider it an order.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dev holds up his glass to re-toast. “Absent friends.”
“Absent friends,” Chaz repeats. Dev drains his glass.
Chaz tries to change the subject. “So that cable was sent to all personnel?”
“Yeah, but the messages themselves would have been different.”
“How do you mean?”
“The pad scanned my identity and pulled up the dispatch for command-level officers. You actually could have accessed it yourself now that you’re in our system. And like I said, if my individual orders had changed, I would have seen that. That Leftenant over there is probably reading a more diluted version.”
Chaz watches the facial expression of the young officer as he reads the cable. “Looks like he just found out.”
The young Lieutenant finishes the message and puts down the pad in disbelief. He stands and looks a bit flustered. He notices Chaz’s uniform and rank and then decides to approach.
“He’s coming over, Dev.”
The young officer stops at the table and then comes to attention. “Sir.”
Dev taps his foot against Chaz’s, prompting him to speak up.
“Lieutenant.”
The Lieutenant’s voice is shaky. “Sir, I just read . . .”
“Stay calm, Leftenant,” Dev says gently.
The young officer looks at civilian-dressed Dev. “Sir?”
“Flight Commander Dev Caelestis.”
The officer stands a bit straighter. “Yes, sir.”
“You have orders,” Dev says calmly.
“Yes, sir, I’m . . . to report to my First Leftenant.”
“Stay focused.” Dev looks at him very seriously. “When you return to your billet, you’re going to learn more details, and they are not going to be pleasant. Your division is going to be looking to you for guidance and for strength.”
The Lieutenant’s breathing is somewhat rapid. “Yes, sir.”
“Deep breath, Lieutenant,” Chaz says. The young officer takes a breath.
“Right,” Dev says. “Carry out your orders. Dismissed.”
“Yes, sir!” The young officer stands smartly at attention, and renders a salute. Dev and Chaz both salute, and the young officer takes a step back, does an about-face, and then leaves the bar.
“Did he have to come to us?” Chaz says quietly.
“No,” Dev says with compassion. “He was just in need of kinship. This is the worst attack we’ve had since before his time. I think he just needed some reassurance.”
“What about enlisted personnel?” Chaz says. “Did they get this message?”
“Their cables most likely ordered them to report to their supervising officers for dissemination of information. In fact, that’s probably what that Lefty will be doing after he reports in.”
“Lefty?”
Dev snickers a tad. “That’s what we call them behind their backs.”
Chaz is wowed once again by the technology, but that doesn’t diminish in any way the weight of the information. The server brings a new round of drinks.
“Dev . . . just how bad is this?” Chaz says cautiously.
“Really bad,” Dev confirms. “And the loss of Triangulum makes this a much bigger problem.”
“How so?”
“Triangulum is a strategic military asset. It’s known as the Gateway to Oasis.”
“What’s Oasis?”
“The Constellation Oasis . . . is where Earth is located.”
“Earth has its own constellation?”
“Of course,” Dev replies. “Only you can’t see it from Atlanta.”
“Why is it called Oasis?”
“It’s called Oasis because Earth is a part of a tiny group of four stars that sits in a somewhat desolate patch of the sky. And yours is the only habitable world in the entire constellation. As you get closer, Earth, with its vast blue seas, looks very much like . . . an oasis.” Dev gulps down more of his lager. Chaz works to keep up with him. They are both feeling the alcohol.
Chaz pops a dry nut in his mouth. “I don’t understand, what does this Triangle place have to do with Earth?”
Dev explains the next part by holding up his fists and joining his index fingers and thumbs together. “Picture a big ass triangle in space that points right at Earth.”
“It points to Earth?”
“Well, Earth’s star anyway. The garrison on Beta Trianguli safeguarded the approach to your solar system.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah.” Dev drinks.
Chaz thinks. “So wait, now that your base has been taken out, will Earth be attacked?”
Dev shrugs his shoulders and drinks. “Possibly.”
Chaz frets. “Shit.”
“Yep. This is the first time the Yeti attacked on such a large scale. They probably poured everything they had into it.” Dev lingered on the word everything.
“So what happens next?”
“You saw,” Dev says. “The Admiral started working on fleet deployment to cover the gap.”
“That’s it?”
“According to that cable, the Yeti took heavy losses too. It will take time for both sides to recuperate.”
“Great, so what does that buy Earth, six months?”
Dev shrugs. “Dunno. Our presence in Triangulum was a significant deterrent. Historically, the Yeti did their best to avoid it since the entire base was there to prevent transgressions toward your world.” He drinks and then shakes his head. “We should have saved the bacon.”
Chaz’s jaw just hangs open.
Drowning their sorrows seems as good a plan as
any right now. The server eventually stops asking and automatically brings another round as they neared finishing their last. She also started leaving the empties on the tabletop so they can monitor their own consumption, not that it seems to matter to either of them at this point. By the end of their next round, Dev and Chaz are waxing philosophical and manage to find humor in the dire situation.
“Can you imagine”—Chaz laughs—“a shiny metal ship lands in Washington, DC, right on the White House lawn. And amidst all the fanfare of the first extraterrestrial contact on national television, right there in plain sight for all to see . . . the door opens, and a bunch of screaming Yeti come out.”
Dev laughs, knowing Earth as he does. “About the only ones who wouldn’t be surprised would be the Himalayans.”
“They’d be all like”—Chaz puts on a terribly fake, and likely offensive Asian accent— “We told you so! We told you so! You no listen! Now you all Yeti food.’ ”
They laugh and carry on. Then the levity leaves Dev, and the reality sinks in. “That really wouldn’t happen.”
“What, they wouldn’t land and pop the hatch?”
“Not likely. They would probably just attack from orbit. I mean, they’ll send in Brigands to strafe your defenses and clear the way, like we saw on Lyra. Then the big guns will arrive.” Dev shakes his head slightly. “And now we have no strategic means of stopping them.”
“How long will it take to rebuild your base?”
“We’d have to retake the planet first. Even if we do that, it’s not just the base. Replacing that many officers and crewmen is not easy, to say nothing of the three frigates. Our forces are spread out all ready, but now even more so.”
“Seriously, what will they do?”
“The Admiralty will mobilize our remaining warships to defend the perimeter. But without a support base, it’s going to be very difficult. Ships can only carry so much food and supplies. They’ll probably have to press civilian vessels into resupply service. That puts them in serious danger. Diverting civilian assets for the military would impact life everywhere in the Crown. All our worlds rely on each other.”
“Let’s say you guys do take back that planet. How would they go about rebuilding?”
“The Fleet Constructs Yard in orbit around Penthar is where we build all our support structures. They kind of look like those giant oil rigs you guys stick in the ocean. But the Yard is in shambles right now. Could take years. Then there’s all the other places we have to secure: Hercules, Eridanus, Lyra, Cygnus, not to mention the Crown. We don’t have that many warships. And fighters need support.” Dev shakes his head. “The lives of fighter pilots just got a whole lot busier.” Dev realizes something and looks at Chaz with sad eyes. “I—I will most likely not be able to go back to Earth.”
Chaz sighs. “That would totally suck.”
“Yes, sir, it would.”
Chaz thinks a moment and then takes a courageous breath. “Well . . . I’ll miss Earth a little.”
“You mean you’ll stay?”
“Of course I will,” Chaz says sincerely. “You think I’d let a little thing like alien warfare ruin my life?”
Dev smiles. “You’re a commissioned Officer of the Crown now. You’ll be expected to serve.”
“I’ve done it before.”
“Meeting you was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Dev says and holds up his drink to toast.
The immediate problem of their relationship solved, the conversation turns back to Earth and the dilemma of protecting her.
“So, why is it such a logistical problem?” Chaz says, having problems pronouncing the word logistical at the moment. “You don’t have enough ships?”
“It’s more . . . geographical,” Dev says. “The Constellation Oasis is called Oasis because it’s in the middle of nowhere.” Dev makes a swirling motion with his drink to illustrate his next point. “You have no habitable planets anywhere nearby. Even your closest star system is over a parsec away, and there’s nothing there that’s of any use to anyone, unless you want to live in a two-thousand-degree atmosphere.”
Chaz leans forward and tries to whisper, but he’s a little drunk, and his volume control is off right now. “I still don’t know what a parsec is.”
“It’s a mathematical means of expressing great distances.” Dev has a little trouble pronouncing mathematical.
“Far out,” Chaz says and laughs at his own pun. Coming to his senses, he holds up an empty glass. “Okay, say this is Earth.” And he places it on the table near the edge. “How far is Trieste from Earth?”
“Twenty-three parsecs,” Dev says, placing another glass at the edge of the other end of the table.
“And how far from Earth is this triangle place?”
“Ten parsecs,” Dev replies, taking a small bowl of nuts and placing it a little less than halfway, in the relative position it would sit if the tabletop was the sky. Barroom accurate for the discussion. Chaz studies the layout:
Earth——nuts————Trieste.
Chaz frowns. “So you don’t you have any other bases in Tarantula?”
“Triangulum.”
“The bowl of nuts.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s nowhere else within the Deltodon to put another base.”
“The what?”
“Deltodon.”
“What the hell is a Deltodon?”
“The bowl of nuts.” Dev takes three nuts out of the little bowl and places them in a triangle shape around it with the apex pointing at the Earth-glass. “The Deltodon is the region of space between the three stars that form the delta-shape of Triangulum.”
“More like the Bermuda Triangle,” Chaz says, and then takes a swig of his drink. He contemplates the tabletop a few moments and squints. “As I see it, you have three problems when it comes to Earth.”
“What are they?” Dev says.
“One, your base is destroyed.” Chaz removes the little bowl to illustrate his point. Next he points to the empty triangle of nuts. “Two, the entire delta-whatever now belongs to the Yeti. And three, its relatively short distance to Earth.”
“That is”—Dev thinks, looking at the triangle of three nuts on the table—“all correct.”
Chaz takes several gulps of his drink with the aplomb of a frat house pledge. His eyebrows suddenly rise, and he all but slams his glass down on the table with a purposeful thud, sloshing its contents over the side. “Problem solved!” He looks at Dev with bright eyes and repeats, quieter, “Problem solved.”
“Oh, do tell.”
Chaz leans in toward Dev. “What you need, is a base on Earth.” Chaz then throws back the rest of his lager. He sets the empty glass down and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yep. That’s what you need.”
Dev stares at Chaz, who motions to the server to bring two more. Supremely satisfied with his analysis of the situation, Chaz pours half of Dev’s lager in his own glass and drinks. He is wearing an excessively proud look, like a cat who has just caught his first mouse.
Dev hasn’t moved a muscle. He blinks a few times and crooks his head slightly. “Say that again?”
“I said, what you need is a base on Earth. You say the triangle base was a strategic outpost to protect Earth? Well, if the strategic advantage has been lost, then the only thing left is a tactical solution, which means, taking the Yeti out from Earth.”
“Tactical solution,” Dev whispers, considering the idea. The server delivers two new lagers.
“Thanks, hon,” Chaz says to the server, and then lowers his voice until she is out of earshot before continuing with Dev. “Who knows how far away your warships will be when something happens? But park a few fighters on Earth, and if you guys can’t get them from this end, we fire up the ships and go at them from our end.”
Dev doesn’t say a word. Instead, he listens for several minutes as Chaz elaborates on the tactical nature of Naval aviation as part of the ove
rall US defense strategy. Despite all the alcohol, Chaz is having a cogent discussion.
“The thing about Naval aviation,” Chaz continues, “is that seventy percent of the Earth is covered by water, making most places within reach of the sea. Our carrier task forces are stationed at key places around the world. They steam into wherever trouble is and can interdict anywhere on the planet, and with that, you have the firepower of the United States of America.” Chaz whispers the next part, “And that’s just what you can see. We’ve got fast-attack subs that can lay off the coastlines anywhere in the world, and no one knows they’re down there. We’ve got ballistic missile submarines under the polar ice cap. All it takes is the order from the president and they can pop through ten feet of ice and launch their missiles.” Chaz pauses and takes a sip. “You have a geography problem. We have an oasis that can be turned into a very dangerous place for the Yeti.”
Dev decides to play devil’s advocate. “Yeah, but we won’t be able to spare the personnel for this experiment. Who’s going to fly the fighters, you?”
Chaz is visibly offended. “You think I couldn’t learn to fly one of your fighters?”
“Well, I mean it is advanced technology,” Dev replies. “Even if we did teach you, one Earth resident is no match against a Yeti attack force. What then?”
Chaz gets agitated. “Well, then, Flight Commander, I guess you better pick a group of other guys to help me out—” Just then, Chaz realizes he’s being had. “Wait a minute.”
“Chaz,” Dev says, putting his hand on Chaz’s forearm, which is tense. He whispers, “I think that is the most brilliant idea I have ever heard.”
“Huh?”
“Basing a squadron on Earth?” Dev marvels. “Brilliant.”
“I thought you didn’t have the manpower.”
“We’ll find the manpower, just as you said, on Earth.”
“Seriously?”
“Perfect idea, Chaz.”
“You always say that.”
“I always mean it too.” Dev nods his head. “I can teach you how to fly a fighter. We can handpick a group of pilots back on Earth and train them as well.” Dev sits back like a giant weight has just been lifted. “Earth is going to start defending its own territory.”