by James Rosone
Shrugging, Andrew simply replied, “The politicians had their meeting. We felt it was time to have ours. Our other guest should be here momentarily.”
A second later, Admiral Bailey’s counterpart in the TPA showed up, looking just as surprised as Bailey. The two shook hands before they took their seats next to each other.
Sensing the unease in the two military men, Andrew started the discussion off first. “Admirals, we apologize for arranging this meeting in the way we have. We felt it better for this discussion to take place away from the prying eyes of the press and politicians. I hope you don’t mind.”
Andrew had already turned on the electronic countermeasures in the cube, which blocked anyone outside from seeing in or listening to anything going on inside.
The two military men looked at each other and shrugged. They had about as much use for the press as these titans of industry did. Bailey used the media when he had to, but otherwise, he kept them at a distance.
“Admiral Bailey, that was a great speech you gave. But we’ve all been reviewing the footage and information Dr. Johnson has provided, and we must say, it is rather alarming. I fear our political leaders may not understand the gravity of the situation,” Andrew said, concern and a little bit of bitterness in his voice.
“How do you mean?” asked the Chinese admiral, Zheng Lee. He leaned forward but looked a bit skeptical at the proclamation.
Andrew looked at the four other shipbuilders before he replied, “These ships, the ones the Zodarks have, do not look to be small ships. When we examined the power outputs on the reactors they’re using, we quickly came to the conclusion that these ships are putting out nearly a thousand times more power than our current technology can. While we have no reason to doubt the accuracy of the information Admiral Halsey’s team has provided, we’re pretty confident there is no possible way our current ships will hold up against one of their lasers. We’re also working under the assumption that, if this is their true power output, their armor systems are also going to be shielded to handle a hit from similar ships and weapons. If that’s the case, we’re in a lot more trouble than has just been publicly expressed.”
Admiral Bailey stepped in. “So what are you saying, Andy? We’re about to start the largest buildup of warships in human history.”
“He’s trying to say, Admiral, that we don’t believe it’s going to matter if we’re using our current technology against theirs,” the European shipbuilder said flatly.
No one said anything for a moment. The Chinese admiral looked at Bailey, concern in his eyes. Bailey returned his gaze to the men whose responsibility it was to build them the tools of war to fight and win this coming conflict.
“We can’t accept defeat, gentlemen. Not before we’ve even fought the Zodarks. So, with the information you have available, what do you suggest we do?” Bailey asked. He eyed each of them as he sought to convey a sense of urgency and optimism.
“When Admiral Halsey returns, she’s bringing with her more than a thousand of these liberated Sumerians. We’d like to work with them on recreating this Trimar reactor system the Sumerians and the Zodarks use,” one of the Chinese shipbuilders announced. “We believe if we can generate the same level of power, we can engineer a set of weapon platforms around them that will allow us to defeat the Zodarks. We have several things going in our favor. Chiefly, they probably haven’t fought an adversary like us. But we need to test our armor against a laser as powerful as theirs. If we know the strength of their pulse beams, we can engineer a countermeasure to deal with it.”
Bailey let out a sigh, more from exhaustion and stress than anything else. “Gentlemen, I appreciate that you want to integrate as much of this new technology into our ships as possible, and we will. But right now, time may not be on our side. What if you were to start laying the hulls for these new ships, and we held off on the reactors and engineering sections until we can integrate this new technology? Would that work?”
Shaking his head, the CEO for BlueOrigin countered, “Yes and no. You see, until we can build the reactor and then determine from the Sumerians how strong the Zodarks’ lasers are, we don’t know how thick to make the hulls or what type of armor we’ll need to build them with. Right now, we’re building with a layer of modulated armor to counter a pulse beam laser. It’s a technical problem, Admiral. Suffice it to say, we don’t know how thick the modulated armor needs to be to stand up against one of their pulse beams, so if we go ahead and build the ships now, we could be building them with armor that’s too thin.”
Now that he was on a roll, he continued going over the technical challenges. “The other issue we have is this—until we know to what extent we can recreate the Zodark reactors, we can’t say precisely how thick or insulated the power cabling throughout the ship will need to be or how we even structure the engineering room or decks. When we build a ship, Admiral, we build it around several key functions: the reactor and engineering room, the weapon systems, and the armor. Right now, we don’t have a good read on what those three variables will be, and we can’t build a ship to win this fight until we do.”
Admiral Bailey slumped back in his chair. He understood the problem now. More importantly, he understood their apprehension and why they were asking, in so many words, to hold off the construction of the new fleet until the Voyager returned from Rhea.
“I hear your concerns, and they are duly noted. But we can’t sit on our hands for two months while we wait for Admiral Halsey to return,” Bailey insisted. “They sent that information ahead of them to give us time to develop a plan. We just spent an entire month going through all the political hoopla to come to an agreement to create first and second fleets. What do you propose we do?”
If these CEOs think we’re going to do nothing until the fleet returns, they’re crazy.
The European shipbuilder chimed in. “We don’t want to sit idly by—we want to rapidly build up our transport fleets. We wish to begin evacuation efforts to the Centaurus system and begin relocating some of our shipyards there, away from Earth. When a fight between us and the Zodarks happens, we could win, or we could lose. If we lose, we want to make sure humanity has a fighting chance. That means we need to start moving people, equipment, and capability to Alpha Centauri immediately.”
The CEO of BlueOrigin added, “Don’t think of this as giving up or retreating, Admiral. Think of it as dispersing our forces. If we can get the Centaurus region built up quickly, we can have more shipyards producing the tools of war, and we give ourselves a backup base in case Sol is invaded and we are unable to stop them.”
“That is a political question, not a military one,” the Chinese admiral said. “Only the Supreme Leader can make that decision. However, I do happen to agree with you. We need to have a backup plan. If Admiral Bailey concurs, then I will make the case to the Supreme Leader myself that we should do this.”
Everyone turned to look at Bailey to see what he’d say next. He thought for a moment before replying. During the negotiations concerning this new fleet, the TPA had agreed to allow the Republic to set up a colony on one of the four continents of the planet in Alpha Centauri in exchange for sharing the technology acquired from the Sumerians. The deal was immediately agreed upon as it offered the Republic a fallback in case Earth was attacked. That way, the Republic would have the ability to evacuate at least some of its people.
“I…can see your point. Let me do this—let me brief this to the President and get her OK on it. I’ll recommend that we put all of our resources into the completion of the Ark transports that are already under construction along with the other freighters and transports currently being built. However, in exchange, you all are not to build any new ships. As these current ones are completed, you spend your time and efforts stockpiling the supplies and resources you’ll need to rapidly begin construction of the new warships we’ll be building with the Sumerian and Zodark technology once the Voyager arrives in the system. Is that understood?” Admiral Bailey directed. While
neither alliance had nationalized the private shipyards yet, Bailey wanted to make sure they were ready to fulfill the government contracts that were about to be thrown at them.
“Admiral Bailey, I have a question,” said Admiral Zheng. “I know you have started construction on a purely military shipyard just beyond the moon. How long until that new facility is completed? Can it begin construction of new warships?”
Normally, Bailey wouldn’t answer a question like that, but seeing they were all suddenly in this thing together, he didn’t see the harm. “As it stands, at least two more years before we’ll have the first three slips ready. We’re looking at completing six slips a year, once the primary facilities and fabricators have been completed. The shipyard is still close to two years away from being able to produce the kinds of ships we need.”
Zheng nodded. “This is good. By the time it is ready to start building, we should know how to integrate this new technology into our warships. It’ll give us one more large facility to build the ships necessary to defend Sol.”
Chapter Eighteen
Reverse Engineering
RNS Voyager
Science Deck
Dr. Jonathan Milton looked at the crude drawing the woman sitting across from him had scribbled. It didn’t make sense to him. No matter how many times she tried to explain it to him, he just couldn’t square it with the laws of physics he’d known his entire life. It shouldn’t work…yet somehow, it apparently did.
The Sumerian, a woman named Satet, looked about as frustrated as Jonathan felt. She’d been doing her best to try and describe their version of theoretical physics, but it wasn’t going very well.
“Jonathan, it doesn’t have to make sense to you. It just works—that is all you need to know,” she said, exasperated.
Jonathan bit his lower lip and shook his head. “According to our knowledge of physics, this shouldn’t be possible,” he insisted.
Tilting her head slightly, she countered, “Have you ever considered that your people may not know everything there is to know about physics? From what you have told me, your planet has only been exploring space now for one hundred and fifty years. We first went into space some two hundred and fifty years ago. The Zodarks have been a spacefaring race for thousands of years. There is much your people still need to learn about the universe.”
Jonathan felt his cheeks redden as she calmly informed him he was not as smart as he had led everyone to believe. He had to admit, he was really starting to feel attracted to her. It wasn’t just that she was a stunningly gorgeous woman when she had cleaned up—it was her intellect that attracted him to her. She was incredibly brilliant—he couldn’t fathom how she’d been selected as a tribute to the Zodarks. On her home world, she had been a university professor, just like him. To imagine a society willingly giving up people with her intellect was dumbfounding to him. Yet if they hadn’t, their paths never would have crossed.
Shaking his head in frustration, he finally gave up on understanding what she was telling him for the time being. “With the technology and materials that we currently have available to us on my home world, is it possible to build one of these Trimarian reactors?” he inquired.
She politely smiled. “Yes, it is possible, but only because you were smart enough to grab several tons of refined Morean as Hadad told you to. It’s a specialized mineral we mix with some other materials to make the containment system for the reactor and would not have been possible to recreate.”
Jonathan wiped his brow in relief.
“How long will these reactors take to construct once we get back to my home world?” Jonathan asked.
“That will depend on the sophistication of your industrial capabilities. If they are on par with what we have on my own home world, then I think it could be done in weeks. Judging by the construction of your ship and the fact that you have achieved faster-than-light travel, I believe your industries should be more than capable,” she explained.
“With the materials we have on board, how many reactors do you believe we’ll be able to build and adequately fuel?” he asked.
She smiled. “You want to know how many ships you’ll be able to make?”
Jonathan blushed. “Now that we know what a threat the Zodarks represent, we want to be prepared to take them on.”
She crinkled her brow. “You really believe you can take them on and defeat them?”
Jonathan shrugged. He was British, not American, so he wasn’t as militaristic or aggressive as his American counterparts. Britain had joined the Republic to become a smattering of one hundred new member states following the end of the last war. They had made the alliance more out of spite against the old guard in Europe than anything else. As fate would have it, it turned out to be one of the best moves for the UK; Europe was swiftly overpowered by Russia and Germany, who now made up the bulk of the military and economic power on the continent.
“I don’t know, Satet,” he finally responded. “I am a scientist, a researcher. If I can help protect our people and our way of life through the use of my brain and not my brawn, then that’s what I will do.”
She smiled warmly at him before changing the subject. “You know, Jonathan, the tribute isn’t so bad. In a way, it allows us Sumerians to live even fuller lives than we otherwise would. We all know we’re guaranteed forty years, so we maximize that time we have. Any time beyond that is a gift to be celebrated.”
Jonathan shook his head in disgust. “But how can you accept that, Satet?” he pressed. “In our society, through the advancements in modern medicine and nanotechnology, we can extend a person’s life well into their mid one hundreds. Forty years is so short.” The very idea of such a short life span was appalling to him.
Reaching across the table, she placed her hand on his as she looked him in the eyes and held his gaze for a moment. “Jonathan, it’s not the amount of time you have in this life that matters. It’s about what you do with the time you have. How you lived your life. How you loved those around you. I’ve lived more in forty-two years than I’m guessing most of the people on your home world have in that same time. I’ve made peace with the fact that I was given forty years of life and nothing more. Everything beyond that is a gift.”
Jonathan looked at her warm smile, those deep brown eyes, and he knew she was right. He was fifty-six years old, unmarried and, more often than not, unhappy. He’d try to flirt with women, but he knew he was no looker. He was a scientist, and he embodied every bit the stereotype of a university scientist or researcher. The only action of the female persuasion he got was through the exchange of money or grades. It ultimately left him feeling used, dirty, and worthless. She was right—she had probably lived a much happier and fuller life than he ever had, and deep down, he wished he had lived the same way.
He went to open his mouth but closed it when he realized he didn’t have anything to say. Satet got up and walked around the table and sat down next to him. She looked him in the eyes and smiled. “Jonathan, you are an incredibly brilliant man. But you need to learn that there is more to life than smarts, wealth, or accolades. There is life, and there is happiness; there is a sense of fulfillment that far outweighs all of that.” She leaned over and gave him a gentle, warm kiss on the lips before getting up and leaving him in stunned silence.
*******
Troop Deck—RNS Voyager
Captain Hopper looked at the Sumerian before him, Hosni. He was dressed in a Republic Army uniform with his name stenciled above his right chest pocket, and the word “Sumerian” stenciled where the words “Space Command” usually were.
“So, this weapon the Zodark guards were using was not their standard military weapon?” Hopper asked again.
“No, this is a weapon the guards carry,” Hosni explained. “The Zodark soldiers, which, I might add, are fearsome warriors—much tougher than the guards you encountered at the camp—carry a much different weapon, better in many cases. The weapons their soldiers use have a shorter barrel than this, plus it has
another section located here that can launch an energy burst at buildings or clusters of enemy soldiers.”
“Hosni, have you seen one of their weapons actually used?” interjected Master Sergeant Royce, thoroughly intrigued at this point.
Turning to look at him, Hosni nodded. “I am Sumerian, but I did not grow up on our home world of Sumer. I grew up on the planet Zincondria. This is the Zodarks’ capital planet, their original home world, if you will. To answer your question, I have seen these weapons used many times by my master and his soldiers.”
Lifting an eyebrow, Captain Hopper clarified, “You lived on their capital planet? What more can you tell us about this place, Hosni? Better yet, who was your master, and what can you tell us about him?”
Sergeant Royce leaned in, waiting to hear what this Sumerian had to say next. So did Lieutenant Crocker.
Hosni stood straighter. “My master was a NOS. What you would consider an admiral or general in your military,” he explained with pride.
“And what was your job? What did you do for him?” asked Captain Hopper, assessing the Sumerian’s access.
“I…was a slave, like all Sumerians who live on the Zodark home world. More precisely, I was his slave. My mother was a house slave to his wife, so when I was born, I was allowed to live in their home. When I was old enough, the master started taking me with him everywhere he went as his errand boy. Eventually, he started taking me with him on his ships or when he would go into battle. I was there to do whatever he wanted done, from cleaning his clothes to shining his boots, to any other need he had.”
“It sounds like your master found you useful, Hosni. What happened?” asked Lieutenant Crocker.
Hosni shook his head softly. “Have you ever lost your temper, Lieutenant? I did. I said something I shouldn’t have under my breath about one of his superiors who had slighted him. This superior heard my comment. He was irate and demanded my master punish me for my insolence. My master, out of consideration of many years of service, had me sent to a mining colony where I could live out the rest of my days. It may sound cruel, but I assure you, it was much kinder than what could have been handed down to me.”