by Vann, Gregg
“That’s what you are meant to think, Captain. Open the channel.”
“Do as he says,” Thov ordered, and a soldier at one of the hub’s eight other pedestal stations moved to comply.
“Open,” it said, turning to look at me over its shoulder.
I spoke loudly to cut through the oppressive din of alarms and situation reports flooding the hub. “To the intelligence officer aboard the dreadnought currently engaged in hostilities with this Sentient ship. Execute command: Containment. Repeat: Containment. Authorize, Benjamin Malik Blue47. Confirm.”
The shooting stopped almost immediately and a surprised voice came over the line. “Confirm. Secondary?”
“YellowSB27,” I said.
“What’s your situation?” the voice asked.
“Nominal. Identify your ship please.”
“Taniff Sector, Dreadnought Invincible, Commander Malik.” There was a moment’s silence, “What is going on sir?”
“The situation is fluid station chief..?”
“Crandall sir,” he answered.
“Chief Crandall, I’ve been incommunicado for the past few days, but I’m aware of the current state of conflict between the Sectors and the Sentient Alliance. Regardless, I can assure you that this vessel means you no harm.”
“Your word is all I need, Commander. But Captain Prescott has been trying to melt my com unit since I used my overrides to halt the attack. You know full well sir that I can’t keep them locked out of the main systems forever.”
Unfortunately, I did know. Normally, they wouldn’t dare trying to break a sanction issued by a Regent’s Inquisitor, but on a war footing, with the override being issued from an enemy ship; well it didn’t take a genius to wonder if I’d been compromised.
“Put the captain through to me please.”
“Of course sir. One moment.”
The speaker clicked a couple of times and then went silent. Del, Sa, and Stinson entered the hub, all looking around—eager to find out what was going on.
Thov was watching me expectantly.
A low stream of conversation became audible over the line, morphing into a deep, booming voice, “…don’t give a shit. Get that damn channel open.”
“It’s active sir!”
“Who the fuck is this?” the deep voice demanded.
“Prima Sector, Special Inquisitor Benjamin Malik.”
“Look, you spook bastard. I don’t give a damn about you or your rank; release the lockouts now so I can destroy that Sentient ship!”
“There are two things you need to know, Captain Prescott: One, I’m on that Sentient ship, and therefore disinclined to have you destroy it. Two, if you don’t adopt a suitable tone of respect and listen to what I have to say; you will find out the hard way how many spooks you have on that ship.”
It was well know that SI kept agents stationed throughout the fleet—minions as Stinson had called them. I imagined the captain looking around his bridge now, wondering who he could trust, and who would violently relieve him of command.
“Look Malik…Commander Malik.” I could tell he was working to control his anger; this was a man used to giving orders, not taking them. “We are at war. These damn Sentients have stealth technology. Did you know that? Two of their ships crossed The Verge and decimated a havoc class ship—destroyed it before they even knew what was happening.”
I heard him take a deep breath before continuing. “There is a massive Sentient fleet less than an hour from here. This will be the battle for it all. We are making our stand, Commander, and this Sentient ship must not reach that engagement.”
“Captain Prescott, this ship can stop the war. I know why the Sentients attacked Sector space, and have information that should make them halt their attacks. We can end this before it gets even worse. You need to trust me on this.”
“You are asking a lot, Commander.”
“I understand that, Captain Prescott, but there is a lot at stake as well. I will have Captain Thov, the master of this vessel, power down its offensive weaponry as a show of good faith.”
Thov looked as shocked as its crewman, but issued the order nonetheless. The Sentient was a pragmatist, and understood the reality of the situation full well. This was the Na’ardeen’s best chance for survival.
“Thank you, Captain Thov. Captain Prescott, I will relinquish your controls momentarily. I only ask for your word that you will not attack, and consent to a situation briefing.”
“You have it,” he said reluctantly.
“I have assured the Sentients that we are men of honor, Captain, let’s prove it to them.”
“No need to insult me, Commander,” Prescott said icily, “I keep my word”
“My apologies, Captain; I will contact you again in a few moments, after I’ve released the ship.”
“Very well,” he answered, then disconnected the line. I went back to the other channel and directed a very relieved station chief to cancel the lockout.
I was gratified to see that Captain Prescott was as good as his word; when the lockouts released, no weapons reached out to slam us into oblivion. On the main display, I saw the Sector forces redeploy as a makeshift convoy—the Na’ardeen at the center of the new formation. Despite appearances, I knew the positioning was designed to contain the Sentient ship, not protect it.
I needed to learn more about Prescott, to gauge the man and predict his actions, but my pad was still missing in action; I was confident that by now, the autodestruct protocol had engaged to keep it out of the wrong hands. Like my TAC pistol, it was bio-matched to me alone; non-functional and useless to anyone else. But on the off chance that it could be accessed by someone unauthorized, it had an automatic failsafe that triggered a power overload—frying the device if it was too far away from my cerebral implant for an extended length of time.
Without the pad, I was reduced to asking Crandall for a quick briefing on the captain. He informed me that Prescott was a veteran the Diaspora War, and had risen through the ranks to become an exemplary officer. He’d been in the Taniff military long before the conflict even erupted, and was in his sixties when he took Permalife. His history painted him as brave and honorable, and on more than one occasion, very bold. But he had never been reckless.
I knew that Taniff had been one of the last Sectors to join the hostilities, but once engaged, they’d been merciless. They even gave Rand Sector a bloody nose on more than one occasion. Crandall’s most salient assertion was that Prescott always followed orders—even when in complete disagreement with them. He respected the chain of command, and in this situation, I was the top link.
Feeling more assured of continued peace within the mixed formation, I went to brief Prescott in a small, private room provided by Captain Thov. The confidential briefing was more to allay Prescott’s fears than anything else, and despite the promised ‘privacy’, I was sure Thov was monitoring everything going on in the room.
I knew I would.
I sat down in the only chair and slid it up to the communications panel; they were the only two items in the tiny space. I didn’t envy the poor Sentient normally stationed in this little cubicle. The link had already been established, and I could see Prescott’s face looking back at me coolly from the monitor.
I explained the situation in detail, including Val’s abduction, and how Stinson and I ended up on the case. Most importantly, I explained the scheme behind Rroske’s virus, and how it led the Sentients to believe humans were involved. I also forwarded a copy of the video showing Rroske’s confession.
Prescott absorbed the information quickly, developing an immediate understanding of what had happened, and why the Sentients reacted as they did. “If the roles were reversed, we would have attacked them for sure,” he said with certainty.
“The problem now is how to put out the fire,” I replied. “From what you’ve told me, hostilities are already well under way.”
“I wouldn’t say well under way, the attack by the stealth ships was one of
only a few engagements. Both sides seem content to slug it out in one decisive battle—the Sentients out of rage, and us out of desperation.”
“I’ve spent the last few days with the Sentients, Captain; I can assure you that they don’t want this war any more than we do—the ones who know the truth anyway. But there is no trust between the two sides either, stopping this war will be a hard sell.”
“I’m forced to agree, Commander. I don’t know if we can shut our side down, much less theirs.”
“If they are all as hard to convince as you were, we may have a problem,” I chuckled.
I could see his smirk on the video link. “Maybe you can just lock down all of our ships.”
“Unlikely,” I replied. “Contacting each individual intelligence officer to issue the order would be problematic. And what if the shooting has already started? I won’t sacrifice our ships or people by shutting their systems down.”
I thought about the whole convoluted mess and my head began to hurt. Rubbing my temples, I leaned in closer to the monitor. “You might have more luck with our captains than I would,” I suggested, “Certainly Taniff Sector’s.”
“Possibly, but the Sentients are jamming our long distances communications—the same way we are jamming theirs. We’d have to get pretty damn close to punch through all the junk they are throwing out. And god knows what we are going to find when we get to the battlefield.”
“Agreed,” I said tiredly. “Well, by my calculations, we’ll be there in about an hour and all will be revealed. Good or bad.” I leaned back again, uncomfortable in the too large seat. “Captain, now that you know the full situation, I’m going to bring this ships weapons back online. I don’t want you to be alarmed.”
“Oh I’m alarmed, Commander, but no longer by that particular Sentient ship. Tell me truthfully, would you really have had me killed if I didn’t follow your orders?”
“What do you think, Captain?”
“I think I’ll start wearing body armor on the bridge,” he laughed.
“Oh…one more thing, Captain Prescott, the Sentients are carrying an inducement—a very destructive one—to force their own people back in line if it becomes necessary. If I tell you to retreat, do it; make best speed in the opposite direction and don’t look back.” I lowered my voice and looked him in the eye. “And, Captain…take as many of our ships as you can with you.”
He looked at me curiously, and then his mouth opened slightly as he realized the significance of my comment. “I will remember that, Commander. Good luck.”
“To us all,” I replied.
*****
As soon as I stepped back into the Central Hub I could tell that the news wasn’t good. I saw our joint formation, alone in the center of the tactical display, with hundreds of small blips beginning to crowd in from the perimeter. It looked as if we were headed into some kind of massive storm, and in a very real sense, we were.
“By the disposition of Captain Prescott’s ships I take it you had a productive conversation,” Thov said.
I gave the captain a sardonic look. “I’m sure you know every nuance of our discussion, Captain Thov. Hell, you’ve probably already had it evaluated for potential intelligence information.”
It looked down at its command console. “Actually, Commander, the initial report is just coming in now. Hmmm…so Sector can’t communicate either. That is a major complication; we will have to get in close to bring this all under control.”
Val, Stinson, and Sa, were still in the room, but Del was nowhere in sight. “Where is the ambassador?” I asked.
“Del is in hangar bay 12, Commander Malik, readying ‘Plan B’ I think it was called. I believe the ambassador is almost finished.”
Good. Del convinced Captain Thov to give us the stealth vessel.
By now, the Mass Nullifier was probably already on board, and launch preparations well underway. But it gave me little comfort to know that our plan to rip apart a large section of space—killing thousands of living beings—was moving ahead with such efficiency.
“Where are we exactly?” I asked no one in particular. It suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t even know where the fleets were converging.
“The Vrent System,” answered one of the hub’s personnel—presumably the pilot or navigator.
Vrent? That was just inside Sentient controlled space—very close to Evan’s Moon actually. It was barely on this side of The Verge, and far from most human colonies; as good a place as any to make a stand.
We have to stop this, I thought. If the Sentients destroyed our fleet here, they would be able to move throughout human controlled space with impunity; it would be a slaughter. Until the Sentients themselves died off from Rroske’s virus, then it would become an empty and peaceful galaxy, free from both of our species.
All because of an unquenchable thirst for vengeance—revenge for a crime that never even occurred—culminating in the total elimination of all sentient life in the galaxy. If Lesa’s god did exist, he had one hell of a sense of humor.
A pulsing alarm caught my attention, pulling it away from the gloomy chain of thought. I heard one of the Sentient crewman speaking. “…are breaking through the interference, Captain. I’m routing the visual feeds to your viewer.”
“Overlay all tactical information on the display,” Thov snapped. “I want individual identification, speed, and combat condition of every ship you’re able to scan.” The captain pointed at another crewmember. “Tet, try to hail our ships. If you get through, transmit the data packet from my queue labeled Viral Cure.”
“Yes, Captain.”
As the detailed tactical information appeared, the view screen exploded with color. Hundreds of ships dancing around each other as they maneuvered to engage or evade—slicing through space at speeds determined by purpose or construct. Small fast-attack craft made strafing runs against the hulls of opposing capital ships, while the larger craft pounded away at each other with explosive projectiles and beam weapons. The multicolored lights of plasma and laser weapons crisscrossed the sky, leaving burnt metal, catastrophic decompressions, and immolated flesh in their wake.
Death was everywhere.
The strategic display flagged human ships as red and the Sentients as blue, and there were far too many blue outlines for my comfort. Watching the scene unfold, I noted that every few seconds a blue shape would appear—fire off a salvo—and then vanish from the screen again. Stealth ships. From what I could tell, based solely on when and where they popped up, there were only a few of them, but they were inflicting a tremendous amount of damage, grossly disproportionate to their numbers.
Abruptly, a large flash dominated the screen, engulfing at least twelve ships. All of them, Sentient and human, vanished. Other nearby craft scattered away from the expanding debris field.
“What the hell was that?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, Commander,” Thov replied, reading scrolling Sentient text as it moved across the bottom of the screen, “It appears that one of your larger ships took a hit to its weapons section and a cascade explosion occurred.”
The realization hit hard that I’d just watched thousands die. “Have you heard from any of your captains yet?” I asked testily.
“I’m getting a lot of status inquiries from our ships, but none of them are acknowledging my request to stand down. The prevailing theory is that I’ve been captured by the human forces surrounding the Na’ardeen. Thov tore its attention away from the display to look at me. “They think I’m relaying false information under duress, Commander.”
I shook my head in disgust and fought back the urge to yell. “Over the past few days, I’ve spent far too much time convincing people that we are the good guys—trying to do the right thing. This shit is getting old.”
“Indeed,” Thov said, then turned back to watch the viewer where the battle raged on.
The communications officer spoke up loudly, “Captain Prescott wishes to speak with the commander.”
What n
ow? I thought.
“Put him on speaker please,” I said. Surprisingly, the Sentient did so without first checking with Thov.
“Commander Malik. I have made contact with our fleet and relayed your information, along with my own assessment—Rroske’s confession proved most convincing.” He paused, then continued in a hushed tone, “Commander, is this line secure?”
“No, Captain. But at this point, there are few secrets left worth keeping. In fact, it might be better to get everything out in the open to prevent any further misunderstandings. What’s the situation?”
“This is OPERATIONAL information, Commander,” Prescott said emphatically.
“Nonetheless, Captain, go ahead, on my authority.”
“A fat lot of good that will do me if you don’t survive, Commander… But very well, the fleet captains have agreed that this fight is a mistake, but we can’t withdraw while the Sentients are…”
He stopped speaking, and except for a small amount of static leeching through the connection, silence filled the room.
“The Sentients are what, Captain?” I prodded.
“I don’t know what you can see from that vessel, Commander Malik, but we can’t find or stop those god damned cloaked ships. We are seriously outnumbered, especially now that the Helios and her support group just exploded.” He paused again before continuing, “Frankly speaking, Commander, the Sentients are winning this battle.”
I glanced over at the tactical display and saw a few more red outlines fade away—their shapes leaving a dull afterglow before vanishing completely. Prescott was right; we were losing, but not just the battle. The whole damn war ended here. And we couldn’t even run; they would cut us to pieces. The Sentients were the key now—they had to stand down.
Or be destroyed.
“Captain Thov,” I started, “you must make them…”
“Captain,” one of the Sentient crew interrupted, “Three Lant class warships and their escorts have left the main battle and are headed this way.”
They were bringing the fight to us, I realized. Apparently not content to wait the last few minutes it would take for us to reach the battle. It was just as well, god knows what would have happened when we hit that fracas as a mixed formation. The way things had gone so far—both sides would probably attack us. At least now we could see what was coming and arrange ourselves accordingly. I watched the Sentient attack group move away from the main engagement, and saw a weakness develop when the rest of their fleet redeployed.