by Adam Gaffen
“Correct.”
“Can you get back in and slow things down?”
“What do you want done?”
“Admiral?”
“Little things that will foul up a bureaucracy. Missed memos. Misspelled names. Wrong titles. Anything that would make a legal order unenforceable.”
“I can do that,” the AI said confidently.
“Ted can help you. He knows the UE bureaucracy as well as anyone in the Federation.”
“I will ask Mr. O’Quinn for his assistance,” Harpo assured her.
“Can’t we just avoid them by staying on-station?” Kyran asked. “It’s like being served with a subpoena, right?”
“Essentially correct, Commodore,” the AI confirmed.
“But a process server won’t have spaceships armed with missiles,” Kendra added. “The UE might. What about that? Can we fight it? Or maybe just stop work on them? What stage are the rebuilds in, anyways?”
“I can answer that,” said Diana, her holographic avatar appearing in her preferred, Gal Godot-inspired form. “Construction has been progressing according to schedule and your instructions. Exterior work has been completed. Renovation of the interior spaces have been completed. All the utility systems have been installed.”
“Hold on,” said Montana. “Define.”
“Electrical conduits, water pipes, air circulation ducts, control runs.”
“Thank you, Diana. Continue, please.”
“Of course, Director. Fuel tanks and missile storage have been installed.”
“Let me see if I can speed this up,” Kyran said. “I’ve been keeping up with this since it’s part of my job. The plan was to first, make the hulls spaceworthy. Second, install all the fiddly bits. Third, put in the guts.”
“That seems backwards,” Davie said. “Usually, if you’re building a warship, you start with the engine and work your way out.”
“That’s true,” Kyran said. “But these are unusual ships. Look up Operation Argo with your ‘plant and you can get the details.”
Davie did, getting the ‘distant’ look common to people consulting the information they retrieved from their implants. Then she frowned.
“Why wasn’t I brought in on this? Not to be rude, but the Admiral put me in charge of the military side of the Federation.”
“I’ve got this,” Kendra interrupted. “That was my call, Davie. This project is strictly a contract for the UE. We weren’t going to get involved in the actual fighting; at least, that was the official plan. Cass and I kinda figured we probably would have to do more than just supply the ships.”
She shrugged.
“Never expected I’d have to worry about using them against us. But it sounds like we won’t have to. They can’t fly, can they, Diana?”
“No, Admiral. Or, more precisely, if the Orion plate they’re on is lifted into orbit, they will travel with it, but that’s all. They have no engines, no weaponry, no power, no environmental systems.”
“So it would be cold and dark and uncomfortable,” Kendra summarized. “Good. Stop work on them immediately. If the UE wants to take delivery, they can have them. As is.”
“I will compose the order,” Diana said.
“And I’ll reach out to my lawyer,” Kendra continued. “Dianna might have some ideas about squashing this.”
She grinned wickedly.
“And if the Primus wants to play hardball? Fine. Let’s dance. Davie, Endeavour is going to return tonight. Once she does, I want Defiant and Defender tracking their warp ships 24/7. Hard locks. If they even twitch in our direction, take them out.”
“I’ll see to it.”
“Kyran, I want every civilian on Njord in skinsuits. More emergency evacuation drills, damage control drills. If El-Baz or al-Battani slip past, we won’t have much warning.”
They nodded.
“Flashdance, Shooting Star.” The two small craft commanders, who had been laying low the whole meeting, seemed to come to attention in their seats.
“Admiral?” said Flashdance. She was the Commander, Attack Group (CAG), and so the responsibility fell on her. Shooting Star was sitting in for her Deputy CAG, Double Dip, still on a honeymoon.
“I want a heavy CAP, interdicting all traffic in and out of Luna. Not a single ship gets off that rock without being cleared by you. If it’s a warship, you either take it down or call for help.”
“Aye-aye, Admiral,” she said without hesitation.
Diana’s avatar frowned. “Admiral, that is in violation of the agreements between –”
“All bets are off, Diana. We’ve recognized the rebels as the legitimate government of Artemis; it’s time to act like it.”
“Very good, Admiral.”
“Finally. Harpo?”
The security AI managed to sound surprised. “Admiral?”
“I want a direct line to Autumn Newling.”
CHAPTER TEN
TFS Enterprise
“You know, Alley, this isn’t really what I expected my honeymoon to be like.” LJ was leaning against the pillows and watching the stars stream past the window in their quarters.
“Complaining?”
“Oh, no,” she quickly replied. “Just commenting. Luci, get off me!”
She shooed the black-and-white cat from her stomach.
“I thought you shut the door?”
“I did. Little brat has figured out how to hit the ‘open door’ control.”
Alley turned over.
“What?”
“She jumps up and whacks at it with a paw. Sometimes she misses the first try, but I’ve never seen her miss more than twice.”
Alley shook her head.
“I owe Phaedra an apology, then.”
“Oh?”
“She told me she’d seen Luci roaming the corridors; I told her she’d been working too hard. Stop laughing! Hey, I’m your CO and your wife; stop laughing!”
When the giggles wouldn’t subside, Alley changed tactics.
“Okay, fine!”
She launched a tickle attack and the giggles turned into shrieks.
A few minutes later Luci, disgusted by the lack of attention and totally unnoticed by her human servants, calmly let herself out of the room.
“LIEUTENANT, WE’RE ENTERING the 40 Eridani system,” said the helmsman. It was late in the shift, which meant it was silly early in the morning, and the Enterprise’s Third Officer was at the conn.
“Thank you, Mr. Hanby.” Brianna Chastain tapped a control, sending a programmed message to the Captain. She wasn’t about to try to talk to Alley at oh four eighteen, not on the fourth official day of her marriage. She planned to live through the mission, thank you very much.
“And dropping from warp in three, two, one,” Hanby said. The pitch of the drive dropped, then was replaced by the deeper thrum of the sublight engines as they re-entered normal space.
“System entry nominal,” he reported.
“Set course for Freyr, one-half sublight.”
As she’d half-expected, Captain Martinez was on the bridge before they achieved orbit.
“Good morning, Captain.”
“Good morning, Lieutenant. Smooth entry.”
“Thank you, Captain.” Brianna moved over to the XO’s seat. She didn’t expect Commander Cassidy before...now?
“Captain. Lieutenant.” The confident contralto, punctuated by the sound of a sip of her preferred morning drink, interrupted the exchange.
“XO. I should have known you’d be up for this,” Alley said.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Cass confirmed. “Brianna, did you contact the away party yet?”
“No, Commander. I was waiting for the Captain.”
“Go ahead,” said Alley, around a barely-suppressed yawn. “I know you’re dying to talk to Phaedra.”
“Minerva, open a channel.”
“Open, Commander.”
“Cassidy to Seabolt.”
There was a pause. It stretched from one sec
ond, to two, to five, and still there was no response. Cass was about to repeat the hail when Seabolt finally replied.
“Go ahead.” Seabolt’s yawn wasn’t suppressed.
“Status.”
“Things are, well, interesting. You don’t have any coffee, do you?”
“We’ll have some ready when you return,” Cass said, smiling.
“About that,” Seabolt said. “I think you might want to come down here, first.”
“Why?” Alley interjected herself into the conversation.
“Captain, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
She and Cass looked at each other before Cass shrugged.
“Very well, Commander. We’ll drop in the Hannibal as soon as we can. Out.”
Alley stood, stretching.
“Lieutenant, you have the conn.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“I DON’T BELIEVE IT.”
Cass looked up from the data Seabolt had gathered.
“Telepathic?”
“That’s what we’ve found.”
“I don’t believe it. It’s got to be pheromones, or coincidence, or something...”
Willerman walked up, carrying a padd and followed by a medium-sized beast.
“Commander. The other results you asked for.”
She took the padd, trying hard not to watch the animal as it trailed docilely after him.
“I don’t believe it,” she muttered again.
“What’s that, XO?” Alley asked. She’d been enjoying the sight of the normally unflappable redhead completely stumped.
“Telepathy isn’t impossible,” Cass said. “There are enough cases on record to prove it to anyone who doesn’t have their brain totally turned off. Telepathy across species, well, you have cats. Those little buggers totally know when you’re going to step and just where to be to trip you up, so sure, I can believe it’s possible. But across planetary populations?”
“What’s the maxim about impossible and improbable?” Alley asked.
“Captain, that’s just it! This should be impossible!” Cass exclaimed. “It’s not improbable, unlikely, dubious, fanciful, or far-fetched. These creatures have evolved sixteen light-years from Earth; the fact they breathe oxygen is implausible enough.”
Seabolt jumped in. “Cass, you might want to look at the padd Dave just handed you.”
She turned to face her.
“There’s something in there which will make this look like nothing, isn’t there?”
“There is.”
Cass tabbed the padd to life and flicked through a few screens before stopping, stunned.
“Not possible.”
“We’ve been up all night checking. I want to run our results, and more samples, through the equipment we have aboard, but yeah. Possible.”
“DNA?”
“DNA. And RNA.”
Cass rubbed her eyes, reached for her missing cup of cacao, and rubbed her eyes again.
“Don’t say it.”
“What?”
“Don’t.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.” Cass returned her attention to the padd and sat in silence for a couple minutes. Her expression gradually changed from utter disbelief to shock to possibly admitting there might be something to the results. When her eyes got the faraway look which meant she was imagining the possibilities Seabolt spoke up.
“Cass, we need to take some of these home, along with the botanical specimens we planned.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Alley said. “First, no. Second, no. Third, are you insane? No, you’re not insane, at least no more than my XO, but I command a starship, not an ark.”
Cass waved the padd. “Captain, let her explain. If she’s even half-right about what I’m reading here, we’re about to demolish most of what we think we know about exobiology.”
“And history and archaeology and, oh, man, Cass, this could change everything!”
“Okay, Lieutenant Commander. You have my attention. Convince me.”
She did.
“WE’RE TRANSPORTING what?”
“Commander Seabolt called them Freyr’s goats. Capra eridani freyr, if you want to get technical.”
The calm answer did nothing to convince Blaster that his CM hadn’t completely lost the plot.
“Space goats?”
“Something like that. But they behave more like dogs.”
“On my boat?”
Motherlove calmly continued her pre-flight checklist.
“Okay, okay, our boat.”
“Exactly.”
“Why?”
“Because the Captain, XO, and Commander Seabolt say we are.”
“Frak.” Then Blaster had an idea.
“Did Junkyard sign off on this?”
“She did. I don’t think she approved, but it’s within our capabilities.”
“Couldn’t she argue about it?”
The willowy blonde turned in her seat. “You might be impressed by Junkyard’s rank, but even if she and Batgirl both agreed they’re not going to overrule the Captain.”
“Frak.”
“AND THAT’S A WHAT?”
“A Freyr’s goat.” The animal Paige pointed to was grazing happily on some of the grasses which had been transported up from the surface.
“And that?”
Breena followed the finger. “Some fancy Latin name that means, ‘tree with big leaves’. We’re calling it a falling palm.”
“Why?”
“It sheds its leaves once a year. We think.”
“And that?”
“Five-leaf clover.”
“Dammit, Breena, why did you have to turn my cargo bay into a scene from ‘Farmer Sarek’s backyard’?”
“Because it’s the only space on the ship with fifteen meters’ clearance, and Commander Seabolt insisted we bring mature plants with complete root systems which meant six meters of soil, and enough square meters for the Freyr’s goats to feel comfortable.”
“Oh.”
A Freyr’s goat sidled up and bumped Breena’s hand.
“No, I don’t have any treats,” she said, scratching between the ears. “I’ll bring some later.”
It looked at Paige, decided she wasn’t likely to have treats, and wandered away.
“Kinda cute.”
“We discovered they love the vegetable concentrate bars from the field rations,” Breena said. “No idea why. Doesn’t hurt them, so we started carrying them around and breaking off pieces. We call that one T’lek.”
“You named it?”
“Well, yeah. We couldn’t just go around saying, ‘Hey, you’, now could we?”
“I guess not? Anyways, is this it?”
“Well, Reeves caught a bunch of the local insects, but I don’t think we’re going to release them in here.”
“Oh, please, no. If one of those gets into the ventilation, you know who’s going to have to go in and get it out.”
“I’ll bet. And you’ll have to be careful not to injure the little critter, too.”
Paige groaned dramatically.
“Anything else you want to scare me with? We do have three more days in orbit, you know.”
“No, I think my work here is done.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TFS BonHomme Richard
“Captain?”
“Lt. Gibson?”
“Message from the Young. Lt. Chancellor has finished his sweep in-system and will be heading out-system within the hour.”
“Very good. Make sure Lt. Gonzalez and the Roosa are coordinating with them.”
“I’ll send it right away,” Gibson said, and returned to his station.
The Richard was at the center of a very loose formation, consisting of three other ships: two frigates, the Roosa and Young, and another cruiser, though of a different design, the Bean. All four were former Artemis or Solarian Union ships, taken into Starfleet. The Bean and Young had only been brought back online after their upgrades the day before
, after almost two weeks of dock time, and so this was a gentle shakedown cruise for everyone. They were staying far away from the usual Union traffic lanes; nobody wanted a firefight.
Not yet at least.
“Did you expect to end up a task force commander?”
“Gods, no, Greg,” said Captain Porter. “Not that I’m going to tell the Admiral, ‘No, thanks’!”
Radabaugh laughed. “I wouldn’t think so, Ken.”
“How’s the crew mixing?”
The crew of the Richard was mixed; most, like Porter and Radabaugh, were refugees from the Solarian Union and Artemis. They’d been given a stark choice on their last mission for the Union to Titan: surrender or be destroyed. What they discovered when they made the sensible choice and surrendered, though, had surprised them. Instead of being imprisoned, they’d been offered positions within Starfleet, the Terran Federation’s navy. Most had accepted and were sworn in. They’d been shorthanded, though, so about a quarter of the positions were being filled by crew drawn from other parts of Starfleet.
“Pretty well, all things considered. The new crew aren’t being jerks about being ‘old hands’ in Starfleet, and our crew aren’t being jerks about knowing which end the conduit goes into. Oh, the usual minor stuff, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“Fine.” Porter consulted the new, holographic display.
“What’s the Bean doing down towards Venus?”
“Wargames with some of the small craft. Wolves?”
“Shuttle-looking things?”
“No, the skinnier ones.”
“Direwolves.”
“How do you keep them straight?”
“Simple. Which one looks like it could bite you, and which one looks like it could rip off both arms and beat you to death with them?”
Radabaugh laughed.
“Plus, I asked the implant,” Porter admitted.
“Oh, yeah. I forget about mine.” He rubbed his jaw. “Weird shit, Ken. Witchcraft, almost.”
“Maybe, but it’s witchcraft on our side.”
“What’s the plan, Captain?” The use of his title brought Porter back to the mission at hand.
“Continue on course for Ceres, but let’s keep the accel down to 2g. Bean will have to play catch-up no matter what we do; at least this way they might pull even before we arrive.”