by C J Klinger
As it turned out, she had little time for sightseeing. After three exhausting days, The CSF Enderson lifted off from Islandia and vectored for her next assignment, the planet Vajrashila. On board was a crew of scientist who was going to study the newly discovered world with the goal of developing a mind shield to protect visitors from the voracious appetite of the planet’s fauna and flora. The scientist also wanted to examine the Vajrashilans and the Yogamundi for clues to their strange mental powers. A diplomatic party was included in the crew to start the proceedings for admitting Vajrashila to the CSF. Annika was favorably impressed with the CSF’s efficiency and its personnel. All of them expressed a genuine curiosity about Earth and questioned her at every opportunity about life on the mother planet. For her part, she was equally interested in life on the different CSF worlds and promised herself to see each one of them if at all possible. She was most pleased with her new boss. Vice Admiral Estes was steady and clear about his likes and dislikes. Annika did her very best to meet and exceed his expectations.
Chapter 18
Beta Ventaris, Perseus Galactic Arm
The holographic cloud displayed the combatants’ positions. One combatant was surrounded with no chance of escape. No amount of subterfuge on their part could stop the Khruellian fleet’s advance. The outcome was predictable. It was now just a question of time for the results to play out.
The Khruellian commander accepted the inevitability of his victory with a certain amount of regret. Secretly he wished that for once in his life he could lead his fleet into a battle without knowing the outcome, but the massive superiority of the Khruellian fleet and the superiority of their weapons made such an event unlikely to happen. Hydrol-Krilon, Supreme Commander of the Expander fleets turned away from the view, bored with the knowledge of the predictable outcome.
His flagship’s captain sensing the Commander’s disinterest mistakenly assumed the problem was his execution of the commander’s order to destroy the opposing fleet. When he made an effort to explain his use of the well-established tactic he had selected, Hydrol waved him to silence.
“Do not concern yourself, Captain Wemish, your performance will be noted as ‘excellent.’ I have no doubt the Absolute will be pleased with the results.”
Relieved, Captain Wemish bowed and left the commander to his own thoughts. After an appropriate amount of time, Commander Hydrol retired to his sumptuous quarters aboard the flagship. At a thousand meters in length, his flagship was the largest in the fleet. The Commander’s quarters occupied ten thousand square meters of the top deck. More would have been made available to him had he demanded it, but he had judged it more than adequate for his harem. Warfare had become so safe in the past millennium that the inclusion of a senior commander’s immediate family was routine on the large warships in the fleet.
Hydrol stopped at his command station before retreating to the interior of his personal quarters. He instructed his aide to send the same message he had sent several hundred times before in his illustrious career, “The Legend continues to be fulfilled.” The only alternative message would have described the commander’s suicide. Failure was not an option when charged with fulfilling the Legend.
The Khruellian Hegemony encompassed over half-a-million solar systems with one-hundred-thousand of them occupied by hundreds of different, sentient species. Some were robust societies, and others were mere remnants of their former glory, having made the mistake of resisting the hegemony’s drive to fulfill the Legend. The Legend was simple, given to the first Absolute some forty millenniums in the past, “You will rule all that you see.” Since then the Khruellian had expended every effort to do just that; conquer and rule the galaxy known as the Milky Way. Their tactics were simple; present any opposing civilization with a choice, fight a vastly superior force and suffer the consequences, or accept the Hegemony rule. Most civilizations, after a short period of denial, accepted the lesser of two evils. The Hegemony rules for conquered worlds were equally simple; absolute fealty to the Hegemony including an annual tribute to the Absolute and no expansion beyond their own territory without approval,. It was this tribute that financed the expansion fleet. With each conquest, the Khruellian fleet grew stronger.
Commander Hydrol sat down at his food table in preparation for his after-battle meal. What once had been a celebration of victory had now become ritualistic, a matter of routine. He ate by himself with his own thoughts. Only his first wife would dare to intrude.
Of the five types of sentient species in the galaxy, Commander Hydrol was in the same category as humans, bipedal with four limbs, two for upright propulsion and two for manipulation. A beak-like structure bisected his face accented by two large, expressionless black eyes. His skin was covered by a fine dusting of vestigial feathers. A human would have made an immediate connection to birds, which would have been correct. Millions of years earlier his Khruellian ancestors had abandon flight for the less energy consuming bipedal method of propulsion.
Feeling frustrated at the predictability of his life, he pushed his meal away and instructed the dining room screen to display the details of future missions. He had been away from his homeworld for six years except for official visits. He had another four years to go before he would be either promoted or retired. Which one would depend on his record of success in fulfilling the Legend. He was confident of the outcome.
The intelligence report on one of the civilizations in his path of expansion intrigued him. From all indications, they were a small, but an advanced society with a well-developed FTL system. Flipping through several screens, he was disappointed to learn they were not a belligerent species, unusual for bipedal societies. He was still hoping for a genuine battle, similar to those recorded in the early days of the Expansion. Perhaps he was not destined to see one in his tour as the commander of the expansion fleets. He signaled for his aide to join him. He wanted to get started on preparations for conquering this future addition to the Hegemony.
Chapter 19
In the vicinity of Alpha Tau Alpha
Islandia II popped into space approximately fifty light years from the star, Alpha Tau Alpha. The defense station immediately called out, “Contact-ten MK-ninety degrees, minus forty-five degrees-Terran-50,000 CM-Frigate class.” After a moment, the com station called out, “Incoming signal for the Captain.”
“Acknowledge receipt and read it,” Jon instructed the Com ensign.
After the briefest of pauses, the ensign said, “This is the TFS North Star, What the hell are you doing here?”
A brief ripple of laughter circled the combat station. Jon could not hide his smile. He instructed com to respond, “Conducting an authorized CSF survey of this region. Consider this your only invitation to join our expedition.”
The lack of response for two minutes told Jon the Terran captain was seriously considering his other options. Finally, Com said, “Incoming message, Captain.”
“Acknowledge receipt and read it,” Jon again instructed the Com ensign.
“How do you wish to proceed?” The Terran captain’s opinion of the situation was clearly telegraphed in his words.
Jon relaxed. Apparently, he was dealing with a realist. He pushed the direct com button and said, “I suggest we start with introductions. My name is Captain Jonathon McKinnah of the CSF Frigate Islandia II.”
After a short silence, the speaker said, “Sorry to have been so abrupt, Captain McKinnah. This is Captain Hopewell of the TFS North Star.”
Jon took note of the change in the tenor of the captain’s voice and decided a face-to-face meeting might be better than a remote conference. “Why don’t you and your XO join me for lunch? Our Talos will coordinate the jump.”
“We’ll be ready in five minutes, Captain McKinnah.”
Jon instructed the kitchen to set up the officer’s mess for four people. “Put out your best show, cookie. I want you to impress our guest.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” the bosun in charge of the kitchen said with a broad smile
. “I have some Evenian hens I’ve been holding for a special occasion.”
Five minutes later the TFS North Star appeared off the starboard beam, a move that would have been impossible without both ships’ Talos sharing the precise coordinates required. A personnel shuttle exited the Terran ship’s equipment bay and crossed a hundred meters to Islandia II. Jon took the opportunity to carefully examine the TFS Atlantic. The Terran Federation did not allow spaceships to land on Earth’s surface. All traffic was shunted through one of five permanent space stations circling the globe. Space Station Alpha was the principle departing and entry point for personnel going to and from the surface. The other four stations handled raw material which was transferred to the surface by robotic shuttles.
Since Earth’s ships did not venture into the atmosphere, they did not have a need for an aerodynamic shape. Compared to the streamlined, arrow-shaped Islandia II, the TFS ships could best be described by the nickname given them by the less-than-respectful CSF officer corps as UBOs, ugly blunt objects. What they lacked in beauty they made up for by efficient use of their space. They were easier to load and unload than the Confederation ships and had a greater capacity per linear meter in length. Jon decided he liked the convenience of landing on the surface and the resulting sleek shape of his ship over the practicality of the UBO design.
Security escorted the two Terrans to the command center. Jon could see the surprise on their faces as they took in the new, circular design. The CSF had fifty years of experience running a deep space fleet, and that experience was reflected in every element of their ship’s designs. It would require a period of adjustment for the TSF officers being integrated into the CSF under the terms of Earth’s entry into the Confederation. Credibility about the combat worthiness of the CSF ships was not going to be one of the problems.
The Federation Captain extended his hand and said “Captain Mark Russell of the TFS North Star, Sir. This is my XO, Lieutenant Andrew Comelian.”
Jon accepted his handshake and introduced Lieutenant Burns. “Cookie has guaranteed us a good meal. Shall we?”
Jon decided to defer any conversation about the nature of their expedition until he had a chance to get to know the Terran officers better. A good meal and polite conversation would go a long way to ease any tensions caused by their sudden intrusion into the Terran initiated exploration. True to his promise, Cookie did an outstanding job of putting out one of the best meals Jonathon had ever had on board a CSF ship.
Captain Mark Russell put down his napkin and said, “Now don’t tell me your mess is this good every day, Captain.”
For a brief moment, Jon was tempted to lie. Every Confederation officer at one time or another felt the need to prove to their Terran counterparts that the CSF was superior to Earth’s space force in every way. He resisted the temptation because, from the time he had been old enough to understand what was being said, he had heard his parents and his grandparents talk about the need to join forces with Earth. The mother planet had too many resources and too large a population to ignore. The Muhyba wars had dramatically demonstrated the Confederation’s vulnerable to a well-armed alien force. Now the evidence suggested they were about to meet another alien empire. It was not the time to play one-upmanship.
“No, Captain Russell, fortunately for my waistline this is not typical. This meal is very much the exception to the rule,” Jon said and then took a moment consider his next statement. “I wanted you to feel welcome, to know that I take the plan to unite our forces very seriously. The life of my family, my planet, the Confederation and perhaps Earth itself depends on that unity.”
The sincerity with which Jon had spoken took Captain Russell by surprise. He looked at Jon for a considerably uncomfortable length of time without saying anything. He toyed with his glass and finally said, “You mean that don’t you.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement of acceptance on the Terran’s part that the man he was looking at across the table was a man of conviction and could be trusted.
Jon nodded but didn’t acknowledge the statement verbally. He waited for the Captain to make the next move.
After a shorter pause than the last time, Captain Russell said, “How can my ship and I be of service to you, Captain McKinnah?”
Jon relaxed. Captain Russell was not going to a problem. “First I think it is important that you understand we are fully informed of your mission to Alpha Tau Alpha. Your ship’s Talo has transferred all your exploration data to my Talo.” When Jon didn’t see any surprise in the Federation Captain’s face, he continued, “I would like you to keep your ship here in reserve and have you personally join me on the next jump to see what’s making all that noise at Alpha Tau Alpha.
Captain Russell didn’t hesitate, “When do we start?”
“As soon as your crew is settled into their new role,” Jon said, impressed with the man’s decisiveness.
Captain Russell turned to his XO and said, “You’re in charge, Andy. I suggest you get started.”
Within the hour, TFS North Star had pulled back to its former station with the XO in command. The strategy they decided on was simple; Islandia II would advance to the center of the radiation source and within an hour send a message packet back detailing their situation. If no message was received in the first hour, the North Star was to wait for an additional ten hours and then set her coordinates for Newhope to report the situation to the CSF admiralty. Their ship’s Talo was advised not to allow any deviation from those orders.
Captain Russell sat in the visiting officer’s chair while Jon started the procedure for an IS-Jump. The existing location coordinates displayed in the holographic display had been obtained from the Federation ship’s Talo. It demonstrated the narrow, single-purpose field the Terrans had surveyed in their quest to get to Alpha Tau Alpha. Jon knew the principle reason behind the Federation’s rush to get there was to discover or barter for an FTL drive of their own. There were still many forces at work inside the Terran Federation that insisted Earth should be in charge of any Confederation of planets. Having an independent FTL drive would simplify that goal.
Navigation entered the new coordinates based on Islandia’s scan of the area in front of them since they had arrived. Normally it would have taken forty to sixty hours for Talo to accurately record everything within ten light years, but Jon had instructed the computer to emulate Earth’s strategy of a narrow band search in the interest of time. The display changed to show a tunnel of space leading to the source. The star count in this area of the Orion Arm was higher than the area around the CSF. Jon could see four systems between the Islandia and their target. Jon felt a momentary sense of concern about jumping to their destination without having completed a broadband survey. He questioned the ship’s Talo on his private com and after a reassuring answer instructed Lieutenant Burns to execute the jump.
The display expanded to reflect their new location. Almost immediately the threat station reported, “Contact-ten klicks on the starboard beam-stationary to our position.”
Before Jon could take in this new information, the Com station said, “Incoming message, Captain, addressed to you.”
The command deck was silent. Jon’s surprise was reflected on his crew’s faces. Recovering his wits, Jon said, “Play the message.”
“Welcome to Alpha Tau Alpha, Captain McKinnah. May we come aboard to offer our welcome in person?”
A hundred questions ran through Jon’s mind, first and foremost being; how did they know his name? For a second he wished Talo was with him. More than likely the android would have had an answer to this bizarre situation. Jon dismissed the thought; he was the captain and responsible for making the next decision. If the visitors had wanted to do them harm, they would have opened fire instead of sending a request to visit. “Communication, send an invitation to our guests along with information about our ship’s atmosphere.”
Within seconds of sending the invitation, a sleek, round spacecraft with a flattened profile zoomed up to Islandia and st
opped instantly off Islandia’s starboard beam. Jon watched the maneuver and thought, “Somebody has a good handle on Newton’s laws of motion.” A shaft of light joined the two crafts, and the crew around the combat station collectively sucked in their breaths when they saw two, willowy-tall creatures walk through the tunnel of light without space suits.
Captain Russell broke the silence with the observation, “Now there’s a trick I’d like to learn.”
Nervous laughter went around the circle that served to break the spell. All eyes turned to the wardroom door in anticipation of their visitors’ arrival. A two-man security team stepped through the open door and stepped aside to allow the visitors to enter.
Jon rose from his chair and advanced to meet the aliens. The first one was perhaps two-and-a-half meters tall and painfully thin by human standards. The second alien was only slightly shorter and equally thin. They were hairless with large oval-shaped, black eyes and looked oddly familiar. They wore one-piece, luminous grey uniforms that covered their entire body except for their head and six-digit hands with very long fingers. Their skin was a smooth, golden brown color.
“My name is Captain Jonathon McKinnah from the Confederation of Independent Planets, but apparently you already know that,” Jon said with a trace of irony in his voice. “This is Captain Mark Russell.”
The taller of the two bowed slightly and said in perfectly annunciated Standard English, “I am known as Ruuhr. My companion is known as Broyenn. Please accept our apologies for intruding into your space, but it is imperative that we speak.”
Jon was past being surprised. He felt like he was watching an old vid about spacemen visiting Earth a millennium in the past. He almost asked the one known as Ruuhr, “Have we met?” but resisted the urge. “Perhaps we would be more comfortable in my wardroom,” he said and pointed to an adjacent door. Before leading the way he said, “Lieutenant Burns, take the command chair.” The implication was clear. She was in charge, and if anything should happen to her captain, Jon was comfortable knowing she would shoot first and ask questions after the smoke cleared.