by C J Klinger
The Absolute and all the cabinet members perked up. No one had mentioned the possibility of a multi-species enemy until now. The Absolute asked in a soft voice, “What makes you think that, Mebul-Brolo?”
The change in tone was not lost on the old warrior. Silently he cursed his departure from facts but knew it was too late to withdraw his statement. “The ships, my Absolute, they were too different to be made by the same society of engineers. The attack ships were arrow-shaped, the defender ships were round and more agile, and the bomber ships were bulbous with force fields protecting them.”
The Absolute sat back in his chair stunned. A coalition of species was a serious threat. Such a coalition could be as large as the Hegemony. He turned to Bukal, Leader of the Expander fleet and asked, “Have you ever encountered a multi-species fleet in your battles?”
Bukal was as surprised as the others at the suggestion of a multi-species fleet. He replied quickly without having to consult his records. “Never, My Absolute and to my knowledge, neither have any of my predecessors.”
The Absolute pondered Bukal’s answer in silence. Finally, he turned to the old warrior, who waited to be dismissed and asked, “Did you not find any traces to suggest where these enemies came from?”
By now Mebul wished only to get away from the center of power. In all his years of fighting, he had never felt the kind of fear emanating from every part of this chamber. It was only his already fatalistic acceptance of his future that kept him calm. “We found only a fragment of one ship, My Absolute. My engineers tore it apart and found references to a particular star system.”
It was another information bombshell. The Absolute would wear his red robe again if he discovered who had failed to report this vital bit of information to him. “Which star system?” he asked his anger clearly audible in his tone.
Mebul turned to the central holographic display that had been activated by the Absolute. He entered the coordinates given to him by his engineers, and a flashing red dot appeared in one of the galaxy’s spiral arms. It was directed toward the center of the galaxy, just as the previous evidence had suggested. Now they had a specific star system to target.
Before the Absolute could act on the information, his nest-brother stood up and said, “With all due respect for the information presented by the Commander-Defender, my Absolute, I believe there is some merit to the position taken by the recent Leader of the Defender, that it is unlikely a civilization or even a group of civilizations would travel fifteen thousand light years to attack us, especially since we are not a threat to them. I believe the threat is much closer to the Hegemony.”
The Absolute stared from one man to the other, both acutely aware of their precarious positions. He blocked them out while he thought of the evidence and the theory. The sense that this was a pivotal moment in his reign caused him to pause and reconsider all that he knew of this threat to his fulfilling the Legend. He stirred and motioned for both of them to sit down. “I cannot argue with the evidence, but I cannot ignore the logic of what the Minister of the Conquered Worlds says. We will commit our expansion fleet to explore this star system,” he said and pointed at the flashing red dot, “But, we will also expand our exploration of those systems that are in imminent danger of being brought into the Hegemony.”
He rose from his chair, and the Ministers and Leaders stood and bowed as he left the room. Mebul-Brolo was never in his life so glad to leave a place. He wanted only to get back to where the only dangers he faced were the enemy’s guns.
Chapter 44
Newhope, Command Center
Jon inspected the exterior of the Islandia. All over the field, he could see work crews repairing battle damage on other ships. He and Lt. Burns were on top of the hull looking at where the particle beam had gone completely through the ship. It was a clean, round hole about thirty centimeters in diameter.
He inspected the smooth edges of the hole and looked down through three decks to the concrete pad below the ship. He shook his head in wonder and said, “We must have passed directly over a PBW cannon when it fired.”
Penny said, “A microsecond later and it would have hit our fusion generator.”
Neither one of them had to explain what that would have meant. There were three other scars on the ship’s hull, only one of them serious. It took them an hour to examine the hundred and ten-meter length of the ship. The field repair crews would install temporary plugs in the holes and seal off the exposed part of the crew’s quarters so the ship could fly to Evenia for repairs.
Talo informed him that Annika was approaching the ship. They had promised not to use their mental connections until things settled down. As captains of their ships, and in Jon’s case as squadron commander, they were both bombarded with constant communications from their personnel, fleet headquarters and supply trying to re-provision and rearm their ships. In the last ten days, they had only been able to spend three nights with each other, most of it in fitful sleep.
Jon walked to the leading edge of the arrow-shaped craft and watched as a personnel carrier let Annika off in front of the Islandia boarding ramp. He cupped his hands and hollered, “Hey Lady, you looking for a good time?”
She looked up in surprise and waved at him. It excited Jon to see how glad she was to see him. “I don’t deserve a woman that beautiful,” he thought then changed his mind. “The hell I don’t.” He laughed and made a motion that he was coming down.
She gave him a hug and a kiss and said, “Take me to lunch before I kill a bureaucrat.”
Jon laughed at her expression. “They can be a little single-minded, can’t they?”
“More like simple-minded if you ask me,” she retorted.
They decided to go to the officers’ club. It was close, and they wouldn’t be pestered with questions by civilians looking for more information on the Khruellian raid. The men and women who had been in the battle had become minor celebrities. Combined with the McKinnah name, Jon and Annika were especially pestered for information whenever they ventured off base.
Jon asked, “How much damage did your ship suffer Annika?” He had been so busy with his own ship and assuming the responsibilities of squadron commander that he had not yet gotten around to visiting the CSF Sparta.
Annika said, “A few dings, nothing too serious. We’re good to go.”
Her statement, “Good to go” reminded Jon of the painful duty he had to do. “I received orders this morning, Annika, that your ship is going to be reassigned to another squadron.”
A look of dismay crossed her face. “I was wondering how long it would take them to get around to separating us.”
“The rules are clear,” he said putting his hand on hers. “No close family relationships allowed in a command-subordinate position.”
“I understand, but, I like serving under you,” she said and the added with a grin, “On top of you, too.”
They looked at each other without speaking and realized how much their sex life had suffered over the past three weeks.
“Tonight,” he said.
“All night,” she said.
“We’ll see who bails out first,” he said and looked up at Talor, who was signaling him.
“What’s up Talor?” he mentaled.
Annika looked at the android, having heard him getting Jon’s attention. Talor said, “Admiral Dexter has dispatched a courier to your ship with a summons to come to his office.”
“Can you redirect the courier to come here?” Jon asked, anxious to know what the Commander-in-chief had in store for him this time.
“I’ve already done so. The courier should be arriving soon,” Talor said.
Annika looked at Jon and mentaled, “Don’t let that old man take away our night together.”
“I shall resist mightily,” he reassured her, but they both knew they were subject to the will and wishes of their commander.
They ate their meal hurriedly in silence before the courier arrived, each of them thinking about what this war was
doing to their personal lives. Jon kissed her and got up to leave. He renewed his promise to spend the night with her. Annika’s body language conveyed just how important that promise was to her.
When Jon arrived at the Admiral’s outer offices, he noted that Ben King’s greeting lacked his usual sense of humor. The responsibility of contacting every family who had lost someone on behalf of the admiral had weighed heavily on him. “The admiral is expecting you, Jon. Go right in.”
The stress of being the commander-in-chief of CSF forces was evident in the admiral’s face. No one, least of all the admiral kidded themselves into believing the Hegemony threat was over because of the success of the recent raid. If anything they had increased their risk by riling up the largest known empire in the galaxy. It was a calculated gamble to kick over the hornet’s nest and misdirect their wrath to someplace else. What happened when the Khruellians discovered that this “Someplace else” was not the source of the attacks was anybody’s speculation. They would come looking in the one place they had overlooked so far; the Orion-Cygnus cluster. At best, they had bought time to develop newer and better weapons. They could never hope to match the Khruellians in numbers of ships, but they believed they could develop better weapons, especially with the combined effort of six different species.
The admiral returned the junior officer’s salute and said, “Sit down, Jon.”
As he settled into the comfortable leather chair, Ben King came in followed by a young orderly pushing a coffee and tea service cart. “No drinks today,” Jon thought. “This is a working session.”
Admiral Dexter acknowledged the coffee and motioned for Ben to take one of the other seats. He waited until the orderly had left and said to the silent android standing in his usual position behind Jon. “Join us Talor, this involves you also.” The android did as he was asked and soon the three of them sat waiting for the admiral to begin.
The older man said, “I’m taking the Islandia away from you, Jon.”
A momentary flash of anxiety mixed with anger rushed through Jon, but common sense quickly took over. He waited for the admiral to explain.
Admiral Dexter saw the fleeting look and understood the emotion a young commander experiences when a ship is taken away from him. “Effective immediately Lt. Burns is being promoted to Captain and will assume command of the Islandia. You will take command of a new heavy cruiser coming off the orbital yards at Evenia. She is the CSF Constitution named after the oldest warship still in commission on earth, berthed in a climate controlled warehouse in North America. I’ll leave it up to you to learn about her history.”
Jon was stunned. A heavy cruiser. “Thank you, Sir,” he managed to eke out.
The admiral continued, “Meet your new Executive Officer,” he said and pointed at Ben. “He’s been after me for a year to give him a berth on a ship.”
The two men shook hands, pleased with the arrangement.
“Ben will travel to Evenia to supervise her completion and fill out her compliment of personnel. As Wing Commander, your first responsibility is to the wing, and while you will be the Captain of the Constitution in name, Ben will be the actual operations captain.” The admiral paused and looked into his coffee cup as if gathering his thoughts before speaking. “While Ben is outfitting your ship, you are going to be doing a special assignment for me, Jon that only you can do.”
Jon was excited, curious and cautious. The admiral had a history of giving him interesting and often dangerous assignments.
Admiral Dexter looked at the men and android sitting in front of him. “I don’t have to tell you we are in a fight for our lives. The Hegemony is unlikely to leave any humans alive if they win this war. We did the unthinkable; we attacked their worlds.” He turned his attention to Jon and said, “What you said the other day in our meeting may represent the last, best hope for us to hold off the Khruellians. The sentiment among our senior military personnel is uniformly in agreement with what you suggested, but that is not the case among the politicians of all the allies, human and alien alike in the Allied Defense Force. Many of them see the wisdom of such a sharing, but many also see it as giving up a national treasury, especially among members of the CSF, who are especially afraid of losing control of the IS-Drive.” The admiral stared at Jon without blinking before continuing. “And without a doubt, the key to it all is the IS-Drive and the key to the IS-Drive is your grandfather.”
Jon wasn’t surprised at the admiral’s chain of logic, nor was he surprised that he had zeroed in on him to break the logjam. Who else could approach the old man and suggest the impossible? Jon made it easy for the admiral, he said, “I gather you want me to negotiate with Jonathon McKinnah, Senior to share the secret of the IS-Drive, is that correct?”
Admiral Dexter shrugged his shoulders slightly, a concession to the difficult position he was putting his young commander in. “In a nutshell, yes.”
Jon realized he was negotiating with his supreme commander, not a healthy thing to do for one’s career, but he wanted absolute clarity in what the admiral was asking of him. “And then?” he asked.
“If you are successful, take that chestnut and dangle it in front of our allies.” Admiral Dexter said without apology.
“Am I sidestepping the political process, Admiral? “Jon asked, knowing he was embarking on a dangerous voyage. Some of the more conservative members of the General Assembly would probably label his actions as treasonous and call for his arrest if they found out about his clandestine, military-sponsored diplomacy. The admiral’s neck would also be on the line.
The admiral said, “Let’s call it an assisted, decision-making effort by a concerned military.”
Jon had already decided to accept the mission, but he wanted the admiral to know he knew how dangerous it was for him and ultimately the military. “Will, this ‘Assisted decision-making effort,’ make my hanging for treason any easier?”
Admiral Dexter laughed at Jon’s audacity. He loved it; it’s what he looked for in special people, the ability to look trouble in the face and make a joke. “No it won’t, son but you’ll be able to take comfort in the fact that I’ll be swinging right next to you.”
Jon extended his hands to signal his acceptance, “Deal,” he said and shook the admiral’s hand while staring him in the face.
Admiral Dexter’s face lightened as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He sat back in his chair and relaxed. He looked at Talor and said, “You are the key to this operation, Talor. You can translate for Jon and give him priceless background information when he’s talking to our allies.”
Talor said, “Of course, Admiral Dexter. I will do whatever possible to see that Jon succeeds. I cannot, however, be of assistance with his grandfather.”
The admiral said, “I’m aware if that, Talor. That is a task young McKinnah will have to do on his own, but if he succeeds, the rest will not be possible without your help.”
“I agree,” the android said. “But be aware that Jonathon McKinnah Senior may already be aware of this conversation.”
The admiral looked shocked at the news. “How is that possible?” he asked.
Talor said, “Talo, Talia and I are essentially one entity in three different android bodies. Our only differences between us are the experiences we pick up as separate androids. Talo knows of our conversation. If Jonathon Senior asks him a specific question where the answer would reveal what we have spoken about, Talo will have to tell him, or he could elect to tell him without waiting to be asked if the situation warrants it.”
Jon had just learned something about his companion. It didn’t alarm him because he trusted his grandfather and grandmother with his life and had no fear of what Talor might share with their androids. The admiral though was clearly rethinking his relationship with the android.
After a moment of silence, the admiral shrugged his shoulders again and said, “So be it.” He turned back to Jon and asked, “Is there anything else you need to start your mission?”
Jon thought about the admiral’s question for a brief moment and said, “Two things, Sir a good ship and the services of Cleric-General Bradley-Kinsley from Vajrashila.”
Admiral Dexter pursed his lips and said, “Interesting second choice, but I’m sure the Cleric-General will agree to help you. As for a ship, the Islandia needs to be repaired, and your new ship is not ready. Do you have any ships in mind?”
Jon grinned, “Would the CSF Sparta be out of the question?”
Admiral Dexter sighed and said, “Why did I not see that coming?” He thought about it for a moment and said, “I don’t see a problem, Commander considering the shortage of ships we are currently experiencing. It will raise some eyebrows, but considering the nature of your mission, that’s the least of my worries.”
The Admiral rose from his chair and once again shook Jon’s hand. He said. “Good luck, Group Captain. We are all counting on your success.” He turned to his aide and shook his hand, “Good luck, Ben. You have been an invaluable help to me. I know you’ll do the same for Jon.”
Jon, Ben, and Talor left the admiral’s office together. He and Ben talked about a few details and then parted. Jon commandeered a personnel carrier and then headed toward the CSF Sparta to pick up Annika. They had a special night planned, and he was anxious to tell her about their new assignment.
Chapter 45
Gruenwald
Jonathon Senior watched a demonstration of a potential shield system to protect the CSF ships from PBW guns. The lab had worked diligently to develop the PBW weapon and now was working just as diligently to create a defense against similar weapons. The irony of the situation was not lost on the elder McKinnah. Now seventy-four, he still possessed the sharp, curious mind that had first attracted the attention of the Ankh’s Ares on Islandia many years earlier; the same curiosity that had attracted Marcia, his wife of fifty years. In spite of their years, both of them were in excellent physical condition thanks in part to Talos’ modification of their immune system.