by Chris Hechtl
“Um …”
“Quiet,” the flag officer scolded mildly. “A few years ago a Horathian spy ship delivered a cargo of sleepers to Epsilon Triangula. If you've read your history, you know what came next. People got greedy and opened Pandora's Box and a series of Xeno nanite plagues were unleashed. Only the intervention of Admiral Irons and the help of some of the people on the planet allowed them to stop it in time.”
“Damn,” Mack said softly. “See sir, that's what I'm talking about!” he threw his hands up in despair.
There were nods around the room. Nanotech was an old fear. It tied into the fear any organic had of a predator, the fear of being eaten alive. But along with that visceral fear was also the fear of being turned into a zombie—of being turned against your friends and family, of being locked into your body and watching it being used as a puppet to destroy everything you loved.
It was no wonder that nanotech was hated by the Bekian population. They didn't understand though that nanotech was just a tool, Horatio mused. A tool, not inherently good or evil. It was up to the user to program them and give them purpose.
He wondered briefly if John was going to do something about P34cv9. By rights he should cleanse the star system. Blow the planet apart and destroy the nanites infesting it. There was no conceivable way to destroy them any other way.
When the murmurs died down, he continued.
“Yes, it is a threat we have to be aware of. And,” Horatio smiled indulgently, “I know I'm undermining my argument a bit. Here's a second story, one you probably don't know all the details since some of it is still classified.”
“Um …”
“Relax; I'll relate to you just the public version. We're all officers here; I know you have the clearance. In fact, I'm authorizing you to know. There, happy?” the commodore said dryly.
The captain grimaced but didn't say anything.
After a moment, Horatio nodded. “Okay, a few years ago, this is after Admiral Irons first returned to Antigua, he took a team to salvage a naval facility. He found a hundred and fifty sleepers there.”
“You're talking about the people that are making up the heart of the navy, sir?” Gemma asked?”
“Not at all,” the commodore said, shaking his head. “They are bringing age and years of experience and wisdom to what was already there. I know. Two of those flag officers, Admirals Subert and White, you've probably read about.”
The others nodded.
“I'd wondered where they had come from,” Mack murmured.
“There was another admiral though, Admiral Halsey. What you don't know, what a lot of people don't know, is that he was killed like a few other officers and enlisted by a Xeno virus and changeling after Admiral Irons awoke everyone,” the commodore said.
That made a few people around the table suck in their breath in protest.
Horatio stared at them, his face bleak. “Yes, that part hasn't been brooded about. The changeling was found out and killed, but he did a lot of damage. Again the admiral, his A.I., and the personnel involved stopped the virus and saved the day. Well, not quite,” he said with a grimace. “You see, the damn virus sent a copy of itself through the ansible the admiral brought along.”
“Sir …,” Captain Clayton's eyes were wide in shock.
“We've taken steps to filter and find it,” Horatio said. “That it got into one of our most secure facilities at all is a major security breach of the first order. Believe me, we've got people doing their best to make sure it doesn't happen again.”
“I see what you mean about undermining your own argument, sir,” the captain said with a shaky laugh as he ran a hand through his hair.
“Right,” Horatio said with a twinkle in his eye. “We lost a bit but gained a lot more there. Yes, there is an ongoing risk of that damn virus, but we gained over a hundred personnel plus the data from the facility. All sorts of useful things that are being scanned rather carefully and thoroughly before they are used. The latest tech, stuff that was being worked on during the height of the war but was never transmitted to the Federation. All sorts of goodies to play with and improve our hardware. A lot of fixes, and yes, new things to knock some socks off.”
Leo was the first to appreciate that. He blinked then grinned. “Ah.”
“Figuring out what is good is a pain in the ass. That virus corrupted some of the files. Sometimes it would change a couple of bits and you'd have a mess on your hand. And running that down is an ongoing problem. But not our problem fortunately,” Horatio said.
“I think I'm glad,” Gemma said.
“I'm not, I'd love to see it,” Leo stated.
“You would,” Gemma accused with a disgusted shake of her head.
“Last story,” the commodore said. “Also history.” He smiled slightly. “Recent actually. After the battle of Pyrax, Admiral Irons led us into salvaging every ship and station in the star system. One of them was a liner that everyone knew was booby trapped so they left well alone.”
“But he went in anyway and people died?” Commander Koba asked.
Horatio shook his head in denial. “No, not at all. He knew the risk ahead of time you see. He detailed Firefly and Captain Mayweather to clear the ship. They knew about the nanites, so the crew devised a way to deal with them. Captain Mayweather was rather adamant about cleansing the section with the sleepers in it before they were allowed on her ship.”
“Smart woman,” Gemma muttered.
“Right. Once the ship was cleared, they used a tractor to pull the section out and bots to secure the contents. Once each pod was cleaned, they were opened. Thirty people, many of them midshipmen.”
“Um …”
“One officer, a reservist, and militia officer named Trajan Vargess,” the commodore explained. “He went on to serve as a ship captain on several ships. The last time I checked he was on the short list for commodore,” he explained diffidently, ignoring the slight protest. “One of his middies though was a Seti Ssilli,” the admiral said succulently.
That made the group collectively frown. “Okay, I guess you don't know. Up until that recovery, the Ssilli were considered extinct,” he explained. That elicited some shocked expressions from the group. The sharp inhaling gasp of Gemma and the doctors were all the confirmation he needed to realize they hadn't considered that. “As were most water dwelling species. It's actually hard to kill an entire species given how spread out the galaxy is, but the Xenos went out of their way to try to do so, first above all other species.”
“I … don't see why, sir,” Captain Clayton said cautiously.
“Oh? The rapids?” the commodore reminded him. The captain grunted as he caught on. “That's right. One of our key advantages was our biodiversity. And water dwellers could do things in hyperspace and subspace that were nigh on impossible for us mere mortals to do. Their navigational and piloting skills turned the tide in several battles. So, the Xenos sought them out and their worlds paid a heavy price.”
“Oh,” Doctor Light Touch said ever so softly. Up until that moment, she had thought that the outer Federation was battered but that every species had survived. Now she wondered if her people in Bek were the only representatives left in the universe.
She glanced around the room. Apparently, based off of some of the expressions she saw around her, she wasn't the only one wondering that she judged.
“Right. We know that dozens of species are missing or presumed extinct. Admiral Irons made it clear he's going to bring every species back. The Xenos wanted extinction for all. Preventing it and reversing it is our way of winning,” the commodore said firmly. “He just said it rather more eloquently than I did,” he said with a shrug as he looked away for a moment.
When the moment was up, he turned back to the group. “So, you see, we're going to move forward. But cautiously,” he said, raising a finger. “And no, not just to save sleepers if any are still alive. That isn't the end goal; it's just a nice bonus. The real thing is the hardware. Any ship we can clea
r and reuse, we do. Anything we can't use, we strip and send to the breakers for the material to be recycled.”
“Do you think we'll find military sleepers, sir?” Leo asked, cocking his head.
Horatio spread his hands apart. “I honestly don't know. I suppose anything is possible. Who knows, we might find some of your long lost ancestors!” That earned a surprised grunt. “Remember, some of those ships moved between Nuevo and Bek after the war. We might get lucky,” he said.
Slowly heads began to nod around the room.
“But again, caution. So, here is what protocol we have on file for situations like this. I understand you all have reservations. Fine. Let's go over this, and then find a way to improve on it to lay as many fears to rest as possible,” he said.
~<><{<^>}><>~
After the presentation, Horatio let the others leave the compartment one by one or in groups. Captain Clayton remained. “Captain?” Horatio asked, sensing the other officer had something he wanted to get off his chest, but wanted to do it in some privacy.
“Something's been bothering me, sir,” the captain admitted.
“Shoot,” the commodore said as he went and poured the rest of the coffee into his cup. He held the empty carafe up. “Should we make another pot?”
“No, I'm good,” the captain said, waving a hand.
“What's on your mind, Captain,” Horatio asked.
“Well, I thought about what you said, about recovering some of our own lost people. It is possible. But it bothered me that all those ships were there and they didn't pick through them. We might have done this years ago!”
Horatio gauged his frustration, then shrugged. “Who's to say they didn't?”
“Sir?”
“I haven't gotten into your history as much as I'd like to have. I didn't have time. But I know some people did do a little salvage. That part I can confirm.”
“Um …”
“Moira Sema,” the commodore said, playing with his mug.
The captain's eyes widened briefly as he caught on to the clue. He sucked in a breath and then let it out. “I'd forgotten about her.”
“I didn't. I heard about some of her history. That her ancestor was found in a pod in B-102c and brought back to Bek. How she became an outstanding pilot and politician. How her children became pilots as well.” What he didn't say was that he'd been curious about how familiar she'd looked. She'd even led him on a few times, and they'd gone out on a date.
Captain Clayton nodded slowly. “You should have brought that up in the meeting a moment ago,” he pointed out.
“I probably should have, but I don't know who is a fan of her and who isn't,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“True,” the captain said.
“I think part of the reason people weren't willing to pick over the ships was a … mental block about picking over the dead. How it feels unseemly and wrong.” The captain nodded. “It is in a way, tradition dictates we take a derelict ship, pull what we can, and then send them on their last journey into the sun so they aren't a hazard to navigation.”
“But we're not doing that here,” the captain said.
“No, no we're not. Needs must override such things from time to time. Our needs are great,” Horatio said.
“Yes, sir.”
~<><{<^>}><>~
Doctor Light Touch was hit hard by the comment about all of the extinct species in the Federation. When she had a moment, she looked into it. She was relieved when she found out her species was alive in the outer Federation. There wasn't any census data, but there were a few out there. She was surprised though that the Delquir and some of the other species weren't around.
She made a note to get the Flea Leggers and other geneticists involved. They would love the work, to be able to resurrect entire species? Not just create ecosystems that never existed on terraformed worlds and maintain them, but to bring back the dead? She'd read about some of the things they'd proposed using the genetic material embedded in the Encyclopedia Galactica as well as medical texts. She'd heard they had been repeatedly denied requests to bring back other species in Bek, but if it was a policy of the new Federation? She wondered guiltily if Admiral Irons had passed that order on but it had been ignored.
She did her best to put such considerations out of her mind for the moment. To distract herself from the big picture, she focused on the small one, her shipmates.
Doctor Light Touch checked in with some of other crew who had exhibited a rough time in hyper initially as well as those who seemed homesick. Some of the crew were far happier to be on board than on Bek, especially those who had come with the commodore. They might not be doing the mission they'd started out with as intended, but they were doing a mission and out from under the thumbs of Admiral Childress and his people.
She hadn't realized how badly many of the transplants had hated working under Childress until she'd heard from them. Many harbored deep resentment against the man and his supporters. For her it was the way things were done in Bek. If you didn't like it, you quit. But if you wanted to do the job, you shut up and did it and hoped something would change later.
She was surprised to note her fellow doctor had the same feelings when she checked in with him and Mister Baxter. “At least we're doing something constructive,” Doctor Fa'rook growled.
“True. It's still not what we were sent for,” Baxter said, eyeing the duo. His ears slowly rose from their rear back position as he began to relax. “I hope we take this bloody ship all the way home and screw Bek,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm not going back,” he growled. “No offense, but that well and truly sucked,” he said.
The two doctors glanced at each other. Finally, Doctor Fa'rook cleared his throat. “I'm sorry you feel that way. We may not have a choice,” he said.
“Oh? Not me!” the Neocat said vehemently, scissoring his arms in front of his chest several times. “No. No way, no how.” His ears were back again, and he was practically spitting with anger.
“As I said, we may not have a choice. Not only do we have to follow our orders, but we'll run out of fuel, water, and food eventually, Baxter.” The cat's ears went flat out to the sides. Slowly he nodded but his expression was mournful. “You know no system is perfect at recycling. It's a basic tenant of engineering that even I, a doctor knows.” Baxter nodded. “There is no such thing as a 100 percent perfect or closed loop system. It can't exist. Besides, fuel alone …,” Doctor Fa'rook's voice tapered off. After a moment, he shrugged.
“You would remind me of that,” Baxter growled, looking away in discomfort.
“Sorry,” Doctor Fa'rook said, sounding contrite.
“No, you're not. You like to twist the knife from time to time,” Light Touch growled, eyeing the doctor. The Neochimp doctor opened his mouth to protest. “Save it,” the Satyre growled. He looked away after a moment. “The truth is I know deep down we'll have to go back too. Someone has to. The problem is I don't know what we're supposed to do. What we're expected to do …”
“I'm thinking of this as a temporary retreat. We got our heads handed to us, caught off guard. Well, now we know more. So, we take a step back, reassess the situation, maybe check with higher, and then properly forearmed and forewarned, we wade back in this time meaning business,” Baxter said. “I hope so anyway. Hope the commodore comes up with a plan or something,” he said with feeling. “The situation in Bek and Childress …”
“And have a plan to do something about him. Something legal. Roll some heads or something,” Fa'rook growled, fur rising.
“Something like that,” Light Touch agreed, eyeing the duo. Apparently, the Neochimp was in agreement with the cat or he was being sympathetic to draw him out.
Baxter had been one of the transplants who had been the worst off when he'd come on board. His grooming had been atrocious as had his attitude. He'd been relieved to be aboard, but he'd been caught growling at some of his fellow shipmates for awhile. Now they understood some of the source of his discontent.r />
“Only problem is, I know for a fact Logan doesn't have it in him to do it. He ain't got the rank,” Baxter said with a sniff.
“Didn't your mama teach you it's not polite to say ain't?” Doctor Fa'rook teased. Baxter's ears flicked in a rare show of humor. “And don't count the commodore out yet. He's down like us, but he's not out—not by a long shot. He's just licking his wounds and trying to figure out an angle. Same as us.”
“Well, when he figures it out, I hope he tells the rest of us. Personally I'd love to just stay in B-102C or hell, try our luck in Nuevo.” the Neocat said. His eyes lit with that idea. “Say! That's not a half-baked idea as it sounds! We go to Nuevo, we get the fuel and stuff we need … screw Bek! No offense. It's not like they can come after us, right? So they can't go and give us fresh orders and shit, right?”
The doctor frowned as she turned the idea over and over in her head. Eventually she shrugged. “It's plausible, but it's not up to you or I,” she said finally. She glanced at Fa'rook. “Some of us would miss our families though. And no offense, but you aren't my type,” she quipped.
That got a purring chuckle out of the Neocat. Even Fa'rook cracked a brief smile.
“No, that's true. But I wonder …,” Baxter mused, looking away.
“Bring it up later. Write out a proposal. Don't get into detail about why not to go back to Bek and heavens don't get into spite over it. Keep it short and concise and then keep it on hand in case you get a chance to pitch it. But don't go looking to do it, it might bite you in the ass,” the doctor warned.
Baxter nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“And ease up on the marinara and red meat. You are way too gassy for my tastes,” Light Touch said, making a face as Fa'rook waved a hand in front of his face and nodded.
Baxter snorted, ears up and erect. “Cute,” he said over his shoulder as he departed the compartment.
“Who's kidding?” Light Touch called out after him. She heard a sound and turned to her nominal partner as he eased a cheek. “Oh ho! It's you!” she accused.