A Line in the Sand

by Ryk Brown

  “We have lost all weapons except for some of our point-defense cannons,” the ship’s AI reported.

  “Midship propellant storage has been hit!” the comms officer added, clutching the sides of his console to maintain his balance as the ship continued to rock from the detonations. “We’ve lost the starboard flight deck!”

  “Captain, Cheng!” Vladimir called over Cameron’s comm-set.

  “Go!” Cameron replied.

  “Main propulsion and maneuvering are down! Jump drive is down! Only one ZPED is working! Structural integrity is down to fifteen percent! Her back is broken, Cam!”

  Cameron glanced around the bridge. Half her bridge staff were either unconscious or dead, and half the stations were inoperable if not completely destroyed. The remaining working panels were covered with flashing red and orange lights, warning of failures or impending failures of critical systems all over the ship.

  Still, she couldn’t admit defeat.

  “Aurora!” she called. “Are you still with us?”

  “Affirmative,” the ship’s AI replied over the one working overhead speaker.

  “Status and recommendations?”

  “The ship is no longer combat capable,” the Aurora replied.

  “Any chance she can be saved?”

  “Insufficient data,” the AI replied. “Too many of my sensors and systems connections have been damaged to make an accurate assessment. However, the impacts have caused our speed to decrease, resulting in a rapidly decaying orbit. Estimate atmospheric interface in sixty-seven minutes, and there are still three more waves of missiles inbound.”

  “Time to next wave?” Cameron asked, certain that she would not like the answer.

  “Eighty-seven seconds,” the Aurora replied. “Currently, forty-six missiles are still inbound in the third wave.”

  Cameron took a deep breath. “Ensign Keller, sound the alarm. We’re abandoning ship.”

  Ensign Keller peered over the top of his console at the back of his captain’s head in the distance, pausing a moment in disbelief. “Abandon ship, aye.”

  “Sir,” the senior communications officer of the fleet command center deep inside Port Terra barked. “I’ve got the captain of a ship called the Voss on comms. He’s asking for you.”

  “Did he identify himself?” Commander Macklay wondered.

  “Uh, yes, but…”

  The commander’s brow furrowed. “But what?”

  The officer moved closer, keeping his voice low. “He claims to be Nathan Scott, sir.”

  Commander Macklay sighed. “Patch him to my comm-set.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The commander took a breath, bracing himself. “This is Commander Macklay, acting commander of the Earth Defense Force,” he replied over his comm-set.

  “This is Admiral Scott,” Nathan replied over comms. “I take it the president has spoken with you?”

  “She has,” the commander confirmed reluctantly.

  “Good. Then tell your forces to fall back and to stop engaging the Jung.”

  “With all due respect, sir, the Jung are attacking us.”

  “Give me three minutes,” Nathan insisted. “If the Jung haven’t stopped their attack by then, you can throw everything you have at them and at Nor-Patri.”

  Commander Macklay paused a moment, unsure. Finally, he responded. “You are asking a lot.”

  “I have a plan, Commander,” Nathan insisted.

  “It better be a damned good one,” Commander Macklay insisted.

  “I said I have a plan.” Nathan replied. “I didn’t say it was a good one. Scott out.”

  Commander Macklay pulled off his comm-set, tossing it aside in frustration.

  “Something wrong, sir?” the comms officer asked, noting the worried look on his commander’s face.

  The commander looked at the junior officer. “Our CO is dead, and we’re being led by the supposedly dead daughter of a dead president and taking tactical orders from the dead president’s long-dead son. Oh, and we’re under attack by three battle platforms. What could be wrong?”

  The officer of the watch, despite his own reluctance, had no choice but to ask. “Our orders, Commander?”

  The commander paused one last time. “Order all fighters to fall back to Earth orbit and order all forces to go purely defensive until further notice.”

  “Sir?”

  The commander shrugged. “That kid saved us once. Perhaps he’ll save us again.”

  “Nathan!” Jessica called from the Voss’s starboard auxiliary station. “I’m picking up a distress signal from the Aurora!” She turned to look at Nathan. “They’re abandoning ship.”

  Nathan could feel the eyes of everyone on the Voss’s command deck staring at him, but he had nothing to say.

  Kor-Dom Borrol stood next to the communications station on the bridge of the Mystic Empress, with Commander Kaplan and Captain Rainey standing nearby.

  “You have to convince him,” Commander Kaplan urged the kor-dom.

  “He is not responding,” Kor-Dom Borrol replied. “He is following protocol. To do otherwise invites dissent amongst his officers and opens him to challenges from the overly ambitious.”

  “If he continues his attack, our Orochi will send shield penetrators followed by conventionals, and all three battle platforms will be destroyed,” Command Kaplan warned. “Earth may be damaged, but she will not be destroyed. But Nor-Patri will. Then we will be the ones with the technological advantage. By the time your empire recovers, we will already control the galaxy, and you’ll be stuck where you are with nowhere to expand. Your only hope of expansion will be to return to your traditions of conquest. You’ll have gone full circle and gotten nowhere. Trillions of lives and centuries of work lost, and all for nothing.”

  Kor-Dom Borrol glared at Commander Kaplan. “You believe I do not realize this?” He pointed at the speaker in the communications panel, from which they awaited a response. “You believe Dom Mogan does not realize this as well?”

  “Then convince him to take the high road, for the sake of your people, his people, all people.”

  Kor-Dom Borrol stared at the commander a moment, then tapped the side of his comm-set again. “Penta, it is Mogi,” Kor-Dom Borrol began, speaking in Jung. “I am speaking to you now, not as your kor-dom, but as your old friend.” Kor-Dom Borrol paused a moment, thinking. “You once told me that the Tonba-Hon-Venar was not about saving a world, but about saving an empire. I know that you believe it is about snatching honor from the jaws of defeat, but you are mistaken. It is about finding a way to save the empire while still maintaining our honor. To that, I ask you: which action is the most honorable? To lash out in vengeance, dooming trillions and risking the complete destruction of all that our people have created, or putting down one’s sword in order to protect it?”

  Commander Kaplan exchanged a look with the kor-dom, having no idea what he said.

  “A moving speech,” Captain Rainey commented. “Do you think it will work?”

  Commander Kaplan looked at the captain, surprised.

  “What do you think I do in my cabin all day?” Captain Rainey said.

  “The young warrior sees only killing as a path to honor,” Kor-Dom Borrol continued in Jung. “The old warrior has seen enough to force his views to widen, to see beyond the simple act of killing.”

  “Where are you, Mogi?” Dom Mogan’s voice crackled over the console speaker, surprising everyone. “How did you get here?”

  “The details are unimportant, Penta,” Kor-Dom Borrol replied. “All that is important is that we end the Tonba-Hon-Venar, here and now. You must trust me, or all will be lost.”

  “It is too late.”

  “It is never too late, my friend. If we abort our attack, the Terrans will share their jump drive technology with us. The entire galaxy wi
ll then be within our reach. Imagine it, Penta. New worlds to conquer. Not with weapons, but with explorers, and builders, and scholars. Unlimited resources to support Nor-Patri, without the cost in military hardware and lives.”

  “And what of us?” Dom Mogan wondered. “What of the warrior?”

  “The empire will always need protection,” Kor-Dom Borrol replied. “If not from outside, then from within. The time has come for our people to redefine the meaning of honor. Let it start with this moment…let it start with you and me.”

  Silence.

  Kor-Dom Borrol looked at Commander Kaplan and Captain Rainey.

  “Forty seconds to third wave impact,” the sensor officer reported.

  “I’ll expect another glass of your five-hundred-year-old coran the next time we meet,” Dom Mogan finally replied.

  Kor-Dom Borrol smiled. “You shall have it, my friend.”

  “Thirty seconds,” the AI warned.

  “All escape pods are away,” Ensign Keller reported.

  “Aurora,” Cameron called to her AI. “Do you still have control of the docking thrusters?”

  “Affirmative,” the ship’s AI confirmed. “Twelve missiles still inbound.”

  “Dump all available energy into the roll thrusters and put our belly toward the inbounds.”

  “Ten inbound, twenty seconds,” Aurora warned. “Rerouting all available energy into roll thrusters; however, doing so will cause detonations in the thrust acceleration modules.”

  “Eight!” the lieutenant updated from the battered tactical station.

  “I’m counting on it,” Cameron replied.

  Several small explosions rocked the bridge again.

  “I take it those were the acceleration modules exploding?”

  “Affirmative,” Aurora answered. “The ship is rolling.”

  “Five inbound! They’re past the intercept line!”

  “Get to the escape pod, gentlemen,” Cameron instructed.

  Neither officer left their station.

  “Four inbound!” the lieutenant updated. “Five seconds.”

  Cameron instinctively reached for her all-call button again, then remembered that the three of them were the only ones left aboard. “Brace,” she stated.

  The ship rocked again as four missiles detonated on impact with the Aurora’s hull. More pieces of the bridge’s overhead structures came crashing down, along with more sparks and smoke, all adding to the chaos and cacophony of audible and visual warnings all over the ship’s barely operating consoles.

  “Damage report?” Cameron demanded as the shaking subsided.

  “The roll maneuver was effective,” Aurora replied. “Damage was reduced. However, we now have several more hull breaches along the ventral side…”

  The lights suddenly went out, leaving them with only emergency battery lighting.

  “Main power is down,” Aurora reported. “Auxiliary power is functioning, but only at ten percent. Bridge systems are operating on emergency batteries only.”

  “How are you still working?” Cameron wondered.

  “Her mainframe has its own batteries,” Vladimir explained as he entered the bridge, stepping over a fallen structural member. “Bozhe moi,” he gasped, witnessing the damage to the bridge.

  “What are you doing here?” Cameron snapped. “What part of abandon ship did you not understand?”

  “Please,” Vladimir replied as he moved toward her. “Who do you think kept the power working long enough for all the escape pods to get away, or for you to execute that insane roll maneuver? Nathan would be proud of that one, by the way.”

  “Don’t you dare tell him,” Cameron laughed.

  “Tactical sensors are offline,” Aurora reported. “All weapons are nonoperational.”

  “Time to go, gentlemen,” Cameron decided.

  “The next wave of missiles will arrive in forty seconds,” Aurora warned. “Access to the command deck escape pod is blocked.”

  “She’s right,” Vladimir confirmed. “The entire corridor collapsed behind me. It’ll take us ten minutes to cut our way through.”

  “Aurora, what’s our chance of surviving another impact?”

  “There are currently twenty-three missiles inbound,” Aurora reported. “We are still rolling, so the impacts will not be in the same location; however, there is an eighty percent chance that a single impact will break the ship in half, causing a fracture along the main longitudinal truss which will open this compartment to space.”

  “Great,” Cameron said.

  “I should have stayed in power gen,” Vladimir commented.

  “Or abandoned ship when you were ordered to,” Cameron pointed out.

  “Seriously?” Vladimir questioned. “I told you so, now?”

  “It may be my last opportunity,” Cameron replied with a wry smile.

  “Captain?” Aurora called.

  “Yes, Aurora?”

  “The incoming missiles have detonated prematurely.”

  “How many of them?” Cameron asked, surprised.

  “All of them,” Aurora replied. “All inbound missiles in all waves have detonated.”

  “Holy crap,” Cameron exclaimed, shocked.

  “What? No dramatic countdown? No touching final words?” Vladimir laughed.

  “All inbounds have detonated,” Jessica reported urgently from the Voss’s starboard auxiliary station. “The battle platforms are changing course.”

  “Are they standing down?” Nathan wondered.

  “Negative,” Jessica replied. “Shields and weapons are still active, but they’re turning off their intercept course. More importantly, they’re not launching missiles.”

  “What about the Aurora?” Nathan asked.

  “She’s still intact, but barely.”

  Nathan reached for his overhead comm-panel. “Aurora, Voss! You still with us, Cam?”

  After what seemed like an eternity, his comm-set crackled. “We’re still here,” Cameron replied.

  “The missiles have detonated,” Nathan told her. “The battle platforms are changing course. It looks like they’re breaking off. What’s your status?”

  “We’re dead in the water, and our orbit is decaying rapidly,” Cameron replied. “Oh, and we could use a rescue party. We’re cut off from the command deck escape pod.”

  “Hold tight, we’ll be there shortly,” Nathan assured her.

  “Uh…Nathan?” Jessica called, uncertain of what she was seeing.

  “What is it?”

  “The battle platforms just disappeared.”

  “You mean they went to FTL?”

  “No, I mean they just disappeared,” Jessica insisted. “No energy surge from their mass-reduction fields, no nothing. One second they were there, and the next they weren’t.”

  “Fleet Command reports all inbound missiles have detonated, and the Jung battle platforms have disappeared!” the senior communications officer at the capitol complex command center reported urgently.

  “What about their fighters?” Lieutenant Commander Perrin inquired.

  “They are breaking off as well. They’re headed out into deep space, in roughly the same direction as the battle platforms prior to their disappearance.”

  “Madam President,” Lieutenant Commander Perrin said, turning toward Miri. “I recommend we maintain full alert status for the time being, at least until we are certain that the Jung are not attempting to deceive us.”

  “Agreed,” Miri confirmed, wishing to avoid having to explain the entire plan at the moment.

  The lieutenant commander turned and signaled the communications officer.

  “Lieutenant Commander,” Miri said. “I need to ask a favor of you.”

  “Anything, Madam President,” the lieutenant commander assured her.

 
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Malcolm Fortune sat staring out the window at the ocean, just as he usually did while drinking his morning coffee. He had long ago discerned that the view outside his window was a simulation, having spent so much time gazing at the waves lapping against the shore, eventually noticing the patterns.

  His life had become completely routine since being cooped up in the one-bedroom apartment for the last few weeks. His mornings were spent staring out the window, his days playing with his child and trying to keep him entertained, and his evenings wondering what had happened to his wife.

  Thankfully, the relentless questioning that had begun his captivity had eased. For the last week, the daily interrogations seemed more like a conversation between business associates. Common pleasantries, discussions about the weather, movies on the net, current events. But it was still an interrogation. He had seen enough spy vids to know there was a reason for ‘Mister Smith’ to be asking the same questions every few days or so. His interrogator believed that Malcolm was not aware of the repetitive lines of conversation. But he was. Yet Malcolm’s answers were always the same, without any variation, which was easy, since his responses were truthful.

  Still, in all their time in captivity, no one had ever told them why they were being held nor where his wife was. He didn’t even know if she was alive. He was certain that it was his own government holding him, although he had no real evidence. It was a gut feeling mostly.

  And so another day had begun. Another day of not knowing where he was, why he was there, or what had become of his wife. Another day of not knowing what was to become of him and his child.

  The door opened, much to Malcolm’s surprise, as no one ever came to speak with him until much later in the day. Even more of a surprise was the man who entered. A soldier, clad in black combat armor the likes of which Malcolm had never seen except in sci-fi vids on the nets. The soldier was older, perhaps in his mid-forties, with rugged facial features and sharp, cold, calculating eyes. The strange man had a confidence that Malcolm had never witnessed, both calming and frightening at the same time.