by Bobbie Cabot
PART TWO
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
WINDS OF CHANGE
(Prologue & parts one to three was adapted from an unfinished story written by a dear friend)
(Prologue edited by Holly “Happy” Hart & Bobbie Cabot)
In a future Earth, where the long-dreaded nuclear war had come and gone and the humans had started to rebuild, Earth’s new tranquillity was shattered yet again.
The arrival of aliens at their doorstep forced them in into battle once again for reasons they barely understood. This was the precursor to a wave of change that would sweep the galaxy and put the fate of a hundred species in the balance.
But no one could have predicted that at the time…
- with a nod to the masters of space opera: J. Michael Straczynski, Larry Niven, David Brinn, E.E. (Doc) Smith,Iain M. Banks, and, of course, George Lucas.
My thanks. And my apologies.
- Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe, Earth poet,
playwright and naturalist, 19th Century Earth
“The scriptures say many things about the coming of the saviors.
But then again, they also leave many questions …”
- The Keeper of the Heritage, on being asked about the “Warrior Race”, GY 9998
Shepherd Moon, Chapter 5: Long Distance Call
The princess walked briskly across the high-vaulted main hall of her keep despite aching muscles fresh from gladiator practice. The heels of her riding boots, much smudged from a day of tromping on hard, dusty earth, made rhythmic tapping sounds on the polished green-marble tiles. Her mail battle skirt made a rasping noise on the balustrade as she wearily climbed the stairs. Her valet hastened to give her a helping hand.
The princess pulled back her arm. "I'm all right!" she barked and glared at her valet, her solid-red eyes shiny with fatigue.
Lena drew back. "As you wish, my lady," she said.
Abashed, the princess smiled a little bemusedly. "I beg your pardon, Lena. My mood is always foul when I'm tired."
"Quite understandable, my lady."
"Ahh, for a hot bath and a long nap." She topped the stairs and turned to her lounge. "Is Ren up?" she asked.
"Yes, my lady. The Prince has been up since morning, awaiting your return."
"Then, I shall not keep him waiting any longer. You may go."
Lena bowed and went back downstairs.
Elyrans, for the most part, looked just like the Humans of Earth, except for the four fingered hands and the solid-colored eyes. The Elyrans were also a trifle shorter than humans, but aside from these characteristics, both races looked practically identical. Because of this, many of the less-informed from both races still continued to believe later that the two races came from a common ancestor, or were distant cousins, species-wise.
Tasha gripped the large crystal doorknob to her royal bedchamber and swung open the door. She threw her broadsword and shield on the bed even though she knew Ren hated it; she was too tired to care.
"Ren?" she called, "Are you there?"
Ren came in, looking especially handsome in a new silver suit with ruffles at the cuffs and neck. She smiled and clapped her hands.
Ren smiled and pirouetted in display.
"You look wonderful, Darling," she said, taking him in her arms and kissing him strongly.
"How was your day?" he asked.
"Fairly middling," she replied. "I only won two out of three practice duels in the field."
"Lost only one. And to you, that is only 'fairly middling.'"
"Well, you know how I am." They both laughed at their private joke. "Would you be a dear and draw a bath for me while I change?"
Ren went to the bathroom and turned on the taps. Tasha came in as the tub was filling, casually nude with a towel over her shoulder. Ren looked up and sighed exasperatedly.
"Tasha, I just got dressed," he complained. Tasha started unbuttoning his vest.
"Well, you can always dress again." She threw the vest toward the bedroom.
"But the others will be coming, and ..."
"Let them wait." She pulled off his shirt and ran her hand through the fine curls on his chest.
"But..." She stopped further protests by kissing him and dragging him to the tub.
The first to arrive were the outworlder rulers. And, by Ren's count, almost all the outworlders were there, save two or three. They all had their assistants or personal secretaries with them. Not all of them were female, and that made Ren feel a little better. The other ducal rulers were trickling in. Of the seven major fiefdoms on the planet, six were already there, with the seventh just walking in. Ren directed them to their seats around the great marble table.
Some of those who didn't know him were a little scandalized to find a man doing a woman's job, and were even more so when they found out that Ren was also the personal assistant and secretary of the princess, Tasha Liaran-Kerr.
The other more liberal-minded ladies were more tolerant and passively went to their seats. Indeed, some of them had men in their retinues as well. It was a sign of the changing times.
After seating them, Ren went over to the massive computer console at the end of the room and switched it on to give the vacuum tubes time to warm up. Tasha was very proud of her computer system. It was quite an achievement for her. The Liaran-Kerr's computer system was the largest and most powerful on the planet and the other fiefdoms, and it had cost the clan a great deal to design, build and program. A great artificial cavern was hollowed out under the castle to hold the rest of the massive memory banks in a controlled environment. The castle staff held a complete team of specialists on hand to maintain the system. The vacuum tubes were very notorious for their propensity for burning out and needed constant supervision. Only about half of the circuitry of the castle's new system used vacuum tubes, the rest used printed circuit boards and expensive integrated circuits, making the system faster and more reliable than most.
Ren patted his still-damp hair and smoothed down his deep-blue shirt. He fervently hoped that he didn't look dishevelled. It's Tasha's fault, he thought. She didn't have to drag me in and ruin my new shirt. He picked up a sheaf of papers, went over to the table and stood by his princess's chair. He scratched his finely powdered jawline with lacquered nails and surreptitiously daubed some cologne on his neck.
He breathed a sigh of relief when the princess came out, striding in her familiar, firm manner, her short dress sword jingling and swaying against her mail skirt. She gave her mate an assuring smile and sat down.
She gestured to the goblets in front of them and all the representatives raised them and drank the symbolic drops of wine, as tradition required, before the beginning this important transaction.
The discussion began with the introduction of everyone present. There was Princess Mara Dorian-Kerr, a distant relative of the Liaran-Kerrs of the Great Northern Kingdom, heading the eight major-power kingdoms on the planet. The Northern Kingdom was one of the most powerful, second only to the Great Plains Territory of the Liaran-Kerr and Tevann-Reshanii clans.
The unlikely marriage of Tasha and Ren had forged their two separate kingdoms into the Great Plains Territory, which changed the balance of power on the planet. Princess Mara was far from happy with this arrangement but law and tradition dictate that she accede to this set of circumstances, the only alternative being that of open warfare.
Besides, the people had a great love for tradition.
Twelve of the sixteen outworlder fiefdoms were represented by their rulers, the others by their royal ambassadors.
After the lengthy introductions, the subject-matter of the meeting was breached. Tasha asked Ren for a short summary.
"Great rulers, noble born," he began, "As some of you may know, one year and two months ago, a very powerful signal of unknown origin blanketed the communication networks of many of the Federation planets. The sheer power of this signal blanked out most communication grids from here to Dixx, all of the commercial and regular wave-lengths being affected."
He walked over to the computer console and switched on the screen. He gestured to a family retainer and she brought out two reels of recording tape. Ren inserted it into a cavity in the console and the screen came to life.
"By chance, a number of receivers were tuned into the proper frequency and some managed to record the transmission." He gestured to the screen. On it was a picture of the galaxy, as seen from above its plane. The galaxy looked like a silvery-white drop of milk in the dark fabric of space. The angle shifted until they were looking at their spiral arm. They knew, more from inference than recognition, that it was their arm. The picture shortened its focus until they were looking at a small pin-prick of light.
Ren lowered the volume of the console speaker into a muted murmur so that their discussion could go undistracted by the voice-over and music coming from the video.
"The purpose of the transmission," Ren said, "is very obvious. The people responsible for it, the people of the planet Earth, were announcing their presence to us - a race previously unknown to the Federation. Many of our scientists and analysts have been pondering it and the answers the transmission brings to light have given us new data on this part of space, not to mention a look at these Earthfolk. What is troubling is that, even as it gives us answers to unasked questions, new questions seem to present themselves. And these have given rise to many grave implications for us and the Federation."
Most of the women were paying more attention to Ren than to what he was saying, which irritated Lady Mara obscurely. "What are these implications, specifically," Mara said, interrupting Ren.
One of the outworlder ambassadors took up the question. "If I may, my lady," Ambassador Fal of the First Colony said, "One of the reasons that I am here instead of my Princess is so that I could bring up these questions in full council." She gestured to her personal secretary, also her mate, to pass around copies of the papers she had.
"I have been appointed by my princess to be our colony's ambassador to the Federation, and I have recently sat in on a conference at Colossus about this same mysterious transmission. The group has come up with some conclusions." She nodded for Ren to continue.
"Consider these facts, my ladies," Ren said. "The broadcast is accompanied by a narration. In Elyran, no less." He increased the volume slightly and they could hear the voice and the music.
"The fact that they know Elyran indicates a deep knowledge of us and the Federation: for example, from all the dominant languages in the Federation, they knew enough to pick the most used language in the Arm.
"The message of the broadcast itself is not straightforward,” Fal continued. “As the prince said, it raises new questions even as it answers others. Also the manner of the speech. It is very literate and fluent, and the accent is correct. They have an in-depth knowledge of the language, even to the use of grammatical subtleties.
"Consider also that they were able to send the signal in the first place. None in the Federation can do that. We employ couriers and messengers to carry our messages across the void yet they could do it via a transmission. Many of the Federation’s top minds are even now trying to find out how they were able to do that.
"It all points to a very technologically advanced race. The images themselves are an indication of this. Though they look very realistic, analysts at Colossus are fairly sure that these were artificially generated.
"The images themselves support this hypothesis of a more advanced technology," Ren said, and gestured at the screen. "Of their eight planets, we gather from the tape that they have settled on all of them, or their moons, meaning a sizable population, and industries of a very high level just to maintain it.
"My ladies, these beings will no doubt have a great impact on the Federation as a whole but, to us Elyrans as a race, there is more. Please look at these final images of the transmission."
On the screen was a picture of an alien blue sky, brighter than it could ever be on Elyra. The images moved until it zoomed into a picture of an immense statue standing in the bay of an alien city: that of a woman holding up a torch, her head crowned by a spiked corona. They gasped. "By the Gods," murmured one of the outworlder princesses.
The view swooped past the towering statue and focused on a brightly shining glass building, pennants flying at its forecourt - pennants presumably representing the tribes of the race, as the building looked like an important meeting place for the people. Then the focus shortened even further until they were looking at the upturned face of a young girl in the middle of a bustling crowd, looking up at them.
"By the Gods, it cannot be," Mara exclaimed, for she, like most of those on Elyra, had not seen the video part of the transmission yet. She looked at Tasha. "Elyrans?"
"Perhaps," agreed Tasha, softly.
The young girl smiled and waved and the picture stopped.
"Five fingers," muttered Mara. She looked at her own four.
The image slowly faded as the video ended, but it stayed lingering in their minds.
"If I may continue," Ren said after a moment. Tasha nodded.
"We then have the following facts." Ren ticked them off on his three fingers. "We have a highly advanced technological race, perhaps Elyran - we are not sure - with a very large population. If our estimates and the film are to be believed, they are about forty-five billion in that system of theirs," he said, using the Elyran Base-Eight counting system.
"Second, this race, these Earthers, have an in-depth cultural knowledge of the Federation, perhaps even us, specifically. Third, these Earthers also possess a very high military potential. That much is obvious from the recording. And they have the numbers to make this potential a reality.
"However, other facts have given us worries." Ren punched up new instructions into the console. The after-images of that familiar-looking alien child slowly disappeared and were replaced by a set of figures and a small astrogation map at the bottom, with a small blinking arrow.
"They are twenty-two Elyran light-years straight-line distance from the nearest Federation planet," Ren said, using the Elyran base-eight system, "toward the end of the arm, and on the galactic plane. That means that they are in extremely close proximity to the declared boundary of the Tiros Empire."
This was greeted with silence.
"But we are sure that they are not in alliance with the Tirosians, are we not?" asked Princess Elaan, ruler of the Everon Colony, the largest of the Elyran outworlder colonies.
"We are relatively sure of that, my lady. Our spies on Detterex have said that they are not."
"Well, then, there is no problem."
"But there is, my lady. When they sent the transmission and blanketed many of the Federation's communications networks, it's sheer power would almost assure its reception in the Tirosian sphere of influence, if just the fringe planets. And reports from our spies have indicated that there is something afoot in the Great Halls. Almost assuredly, this is about the broadcast."
"Hmm, I see."
"Now," Ren said, "Its relative nearness to our planets could provide a good strategic base of operations for the Tirosians. On the other hand, it could provide the Federation with the same advantage against them. Given that we could persuade them to become Federation members, of course."
Mara shook her head and everyone turned to her. "You are being an alarmist," she said. "It would be years before this Earth system could be prepared as a military base, not to mention that such an operation would be very conspicuous and very expensive. The Tirosians cannot do such a thing without all the planets finding out about it."
"As I said before, my lady," Ren argued, "they have a very high military potential, we suspect even higher than our best estimates. Also, they have that huge population on hand, ready to make any massive project feasible. The Tirosians need not exert that much effort to make this a reality."
Ambassador Fal of the First Colony shook her head. "Poor Earth," she muttered.
"To summarize, then," Tasha continued for Ren, "it would pose a grave direct threat to us if these people were ever turned against us. Is that correct?"
"Quite correct, my lady," Ren answered. "It is therefore a priority for us to send an emissary to Earth, to convince them to become part of the Federation."
"Is that not a task for the Council?" Princess Elaan of Everon said. "We should not decide and act for them. This is premature."
"I agree," Tasha said. "However, we have anticipated their decision and have therefore prepared accordingly."
"You have, eh?" Mara said suspiciously.
"Yes. If the Federation governing council agrees to send an emissary, then they would be glad of our quick-thinking and quick action."
"And if they decide not to?"
"Then we still go ahead. May I remind you, this is a question of war? As it is, we are on the brink. Something like this will surely overbalance the scales of fate and we will have to do battle with the Enemy regardless. This Earth may prove very valuable in this coming war."
Mara folded her arms over her breasts. "I am not convinced that it will," she said.
"Fortunately, it does not matter whether you are or are not," Tasha said. "The Great Plains Territory will continue with this, regardless. The Dixx and Arachnian nations are supporting us completely, and are sending their own people to join our expedition."
Tasha rose and faced the rest. "The reason for this conference was partly to inform you of this project, and perhaps to ask you to join us. We are not too proud to say that whatever assistance you may give will not be of help. The Great Plains people invite you to join. What do you say?"
Ambassador Fal stood. "I have informed my Princess of this and have been given authority to commit my people to any decision I was to make here. But I had made up my mind long before I arrived. For myself there is only one decision. Indeed, for any Elyran." She nodded toward Ren. "Would you project that last frame again, please?" Ren fast-forwarded the recording until the last image of the girl was on the screen, and froze it there.
Fal contemplated the smiling picture for a moment, and faced the rest. "The Prince made an allusion to the importance of the coming of these people to the Elyran race. But, so far no one else has commented on it, though I know that it has never left your minds. If I may, my ladies, I will quote from the Holy Book of the Ages.
"'And a great warrior race,' it is said, 'made in thy image, will come from over the horizon, to herald the coming of war, and do battle against thine enemies. Kingdoms will be cast asunder. Fire and destruction will rain from the heavens, but the righteous will survive. Woe to those who stand against the light, for they will be cast in eternal darkness. And from their ashes they will let emerge a new age, renewing the eternal cycle, and these Warriors will protect thee from those who would harm thee, until the coming of the Great Ones.'"
Fal gestured at the picture. "These, my ladies, may be the fabled warrior race that our ancestors have been awaiting for uncounted eons. True, it is but a legend, and no one can really be sure. But the possibility cannot be overlooked.
"It is true that, in the past, our ancestors mistook the Detterex for this legendary race, and this error has cost the people much. But the possibility cannot be ignored now, as it could not be ignored then.
"Because of the arguments presented here, but more because of the legends of our race, do I commit the people of the First Colony to this enterprise: We, too, shall join this expedition."
"And my people, also," Princess Thalassa of Harcon exclaimed, and stood. Her kingdom was the third most powerful on the planet, and her word carried great weight with the others.
"And mine," cried Princess Radha of Petri. Soon, it was unanimously decided, though Mara was one of the last to agree.
By the end of the meeting, it was decided that an expeditionary force of five battleships of Elyra would join the four of Dixx and Arachnia at a predetermined time and set of coordinates. From there they were to proceed directly to Earth.
At the meeting's conclusion, the customary wine was drunk and most of the dignitaries left, at their lead the Princess Mara Dorian-Kerr, her head held haughtily high and proud.
After she had left, Ambassador Fal went over to Tasha and bowed. Tasha acknowledged her and both gripped sword-arms, as was the custom between friends among the royalty.
"How has life been treating you, Fal?" Tasha said.
"I cannot complain my princess, although I am getting on in age." She was more than fifty-two standard years, roughly equivalent to sixty in Earth years but, in age, about as old as an eighty-year old Earthwoman: She was past her prime, and she showed it. "I fear that I must retire soon," she said.
"Nonsense," Tasha said. "You are still as strong as you ever were."
"Thank you for saying so, my princess, although I cannot believe it."
"You should," Tasha said, and led her friend out of the hall. Ren followed a few discreet steps behind them with Micah, Fal's mate. They left the others to their lackeys.
Princess Thalassa and Elaan joined them as they walked back to the castle's library, and paid their respects.
"It seems that you have stepped on the Northern Princess' toes, my lady," Elaan said jokingly.
"Well, she does have eight of them, after all," Tasha said with a laugh.
They walked through the Liaran-Kerr family’s Hall of Gifts, where numerous family heirlooms and trophies won in battle were displayed.
"And you have stepped on them before," Thalassa observed as she stopped before a full suit of tenth-millennium armor and studied the fine tooling on the metal. "Many times. Tell me, how do your people take this growing feud between you and the Northern Kingdom?"
"We of the Plains do not put much stock in what the Northerners think. There is nothing anyone can do, after all.” She led them to some other displays in the room.
"A very admirable view. And one that leads away from battle. But really, how are your relations with them?"
"Well, ever since I won Ren over Mara, relations have been less than amicable, blood ties or no blood ties. But as they say, that is life."
"I really am not surprised," Thalassa said. "Your Ren is quite handsome. You are very lucky."
Ren nervously coughed behind them. The ladies turned and smiled at the blushing prince.
"Pardon us, Ren," Tasha said. "Just some women-talk."
Ren bobbed his head, blushing furiously.
"If you like, perhaps you can take Micah on a tour of the castle grounds?"
"As you wish, my princess," Ren said, and left the room taking Micah with him.
Tasha shook her head in fond exasperation.
"Forgive the interruption," she said. "But you know how men are." They laughed and continued walking.
"How is the prince?" Elaan asked.
"I would hardly talk about my prince as if he was just a fine Ro'an," the princess said, referring to that breed of animal they used as beasts of burden in the olden days. "At least, not in polite company." They laughed. "He has recently been taking linguistic lessons. Broadening his horizons, he says."
"Any heirs in the offing?" Elaan asked.
"Alas, no," Tasha answered. "But soon, we hope. Ren's mother always comes down from the palace to ask whether I am with child or not. The queen is impatient for new children to mother. 'Soon,' I always tell her."
She looked at Elaan. "But perhaps now is not the time for children. Battle seems just over the horizon, and I do not relish the thought of raising children in times of war. It is one of the reasons that I decided to continue with this little expedition of ours, that my children would need not look forward to such a future."
They walked on in silence.
"Have you heard from the Federation council, Fal?" Tasha asked the ambassador of the First Colony.
"No, my princess, I haven't. But the outlook is not favorable. With the Dravidians in power, the best that we can hope for is a formal addressing of the question of an expedition. But our furry friends are not noted for their imagination or initiative. We can expect them to decide against such an expedition, with many rationalizations as to why not, which will sound reasonable to the present council members."
"Do you have any ideas what these will be?"
"Any loophole they can find in the Federation charter, I suppose. All in the name of saving money. They would probably even bring up the Laws of Membership."
Elaan snorted. "I don't think the council would accept that as justification. The Earth transmission would make any question of these people being 'civilized' even less than an academic discussion."
"Yes, I know," answered Fal. "Even so, bureaucracy will still have its way. They will still be required to pass the prescribed tests."
Tasha waved her hand. "Still, everyone knows that the tests do not mean much in the long run. It is the opinion of the Council of Custodians that count. And space-faring races are more or less acknowledged as 'civilized', excepting, of course, the occasional Arachnian or two. The Custodians have virtually admitted to this belief of theirs."
"True, my lady, true," Fal agreed, "but do we know that they are star-travelers?"
"You saw the tape!" Tasha exclaimed.
Fal raised a placating hand. "Yes, my lady, yes, I saw. Space-farers, true, but star-travelers? Consider: they had to resort to this message. Why not come here personally?"
They all walked in silent consideration of this thought.
"Yes," Tasha finally agreed, "I recognize the remote possibility of that, but it's so far-fetched ..."
"Yes, my lady, far-fetched. But, these are the things that the Dravidians may use in their defense. Another good reason for us to go without the official blessings of the Federation Governing Council."
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 1)
|
COLOSSUS, the great artificial planet that housed the government of the Galactic Federation and Federation Garrison spun slowly on its axis. The Federation Governing Council (or “Senate”) and the people from the official embassies of all the member races of the Federation, and, of course, the office of the Council of the Custodians, whose job it is to approve, disapprove, remove, suspend and reinstate planetary membership to the Federation, as well as the collection of taxes - they all went blithely about their business as Colossus slowly turned.
It was the pride of the Federation, this technological miracle. It was the size of a small moon though not shaped like any known planet. It was like some immense gray tube, and it had taken the resources equivalent to a planetary system to build. It wasn't as massive as a real moon, so it had to be spun to induce artificial gravity. Modified anti-grav engines used in Federation spacecraft would have been better but to constantly operate these devices on such a massive scale would be hellishly expensive. It had been decided that centrifugal pseudo-gravity would suffice.
The spin wasn't that much of a problem for the temporary inhabitants. The down-is-out orientation was not apparent because the whole base was sealed and the view to the outside was restricted to small viewports in special habitat blisters on the station's surface, or portholes on what would be the floor. The Coriolis Effect within the station was something that one could get quickly accustomed to and easily ignored - the skill of keeping one’s glass from slopping over was an easy skill to develop, especially because of the frequent diplomatic receptions. (Because of its tubular construction and precise spin control, the coriolis force was kept constant.) And the station was large enough so that the curvature of the decks was not noticeable.
The central core was where the massive power generators were housed. Half of the power was generated from the monoatomic hydrogen constantly being ferried to the station and into magnetic holding tanks. Half came from the solar receptacle-panels on the skin of the station soaking up the output of stray atoms of the nearby yellow star.
Immediately surrounding the core was the hydroponics area. This gave Colossus literally hundreds of thousands of cubic meters of greenery to supply the inhabitants with breathable air (almost all Federation member species were oxygen breathers. Those who were not had special sections of the deck closed off to house their own kind of plants, or other suitable life forms, or machinery to generate the appropriate atmosphere in their special living sections.).
The next tubular deck around the main core housed the station utilities. Most of this deck was given over to machinery for recycling the station's garbage and waste. The rest were for miscellaneous things like storage and equipment.
The next ten decks were where the offices and quarters were housed. The outermost deck, which was just below the outer skin of the station, and on its flat northern and southern areas, were for spacecraft hangars and defense stations, as well as the rocket thrusting spin-stations that spun Colossus at the rate of fifteen per Elyran hour, and where VIPs had their living quarters with their highly sought-after viewports.
It was within this deck where the Princess Losira had her private chambers, where she was currently pacing with barely-controlled impatience. She waited for Ambassador Bilar as patiently as she could, but she was not known for her capacity for patience, nor her ability to keep still for any reasonable length of time. Two traits that did not make her fit for her present role as Ambassador for the Elyran race. But she asked for this. Fal had not given up her place so easily, but royalty did have its privileges.
She heard a soft muffled knock and her valet went to see who it was. Shortly she announced Bilar, Ambassador of the Dixx nations, a few moments just before the Dixx rushed in.
"Sorry I'm late," she said as she puffed in short whistling gasps. "Too few scooters available so I had to fly over." She folded her wings into a small lump on her back and gratefully plunked down onto a couch.
"T'chahn, my friend," she greeted the newcomer. The princess smiled and let her friend rest and cool off. Like most Avian races with their faster metabolisms, Bilar needed a rest and a stiff belt of kraahng, which she kept in stock just for her avian friend. The Dixx drank the glucose-rich wine like water.
Losira patiently listened to Bilar's chatter as the Avian gulped her kraahng. It was solely for her friend that she kept the drink in stock in her chambers, though it was hard to get them, with their propensity for fermenting too quickly and becoming completely unpalatable to Dixx taste buds. She and her fellow Elyrans did not tell their Dixx friends, of course, what they did with their kraahng after it goes bad, though informal parties were rather frequent at the Elyran embassy offices.
After a while, Losira raised her hand. "If I may, my friend, may I inquire about the meeting?"
Bilar shook her head, a habit she picked up from Losira and the Elyrans. "No results worth speaking of. Am greatly disappointed."
The Dixx was, of course, not really a She, for she was both male and female. But other delegates who had two or more sexes found it convenient to refer to them in the female gender, and the Avians didn't really mind.
Bilar pulled a folded memorandum out of her jumpsuit and tossed it to Losira. "That is the access code for what the Council has called 'Project Earth'. And getting it was no easy matter. Dixx, Arachnians and Elyrans have been denied access to it."
"What?" Losira exclaimed. "By the Lords, how can they do that? What about Councilor Reger and the First Ambassador? What of them?"
"Councilor Reger was the one, in fact, who proposed to the Federation Assembly to send an expedition to Earth. But Dixx are not known for their speaking ability. Assembly has decided to defer decision to Federation Council."
"What about the First Ambassador? What did he say, and how did the others take it?"
"The Arachnian did his best, but I’m afraid Council decided against him."
"Damnation!" she exclaimed. "Then our meeting is on?"
Bilar nodded yes.
"We might as well get it over with." She went to her desk and got her dress-sword and dagger. Bilar hurriedly downed her kraahng and followed Losira out to the hallway. There they jumped into a waiting scooter which took them to a shuttle station. From there they transferred to a shuttle which whisked them to the Council Chambers in a matter of minutes. These shuttles, unique to the station, were attached via rails to the surface of Colossus. It quietly streaked on its rails, the sun-shield automatically snapping down as they passed the terminator into the day-side.
The shuttle rapidly decelerated, its rockets blazing, and deposited them in the Council shuttle station. They got off and quickly walked to the Council Chambers. She had to let Bilar lead the way as she followed, out of breath. Like many Elyrans who served on Colossus, she was still not used to the Galactic-normal gravity. It was about ten percent stronger than that of her home planet.
Losira and Bilar entered the room with time to spare. Most of the others were still just coming in, but they spotted the First Ambassador patiently waiting and cleaning his left antenna.
The white-and-orange Arachnian politico waved his four upper arms in the complex traditional welcome of his people. Losira satisfied herself with a short nod.
"How has the meeting been going, Ambassador?" she asked as they were led to their places around the large conference table made of very expensive polished granite.
"Terrible, I'm afraid," he said as he settled into his saddle. He wore a bulging pouch on his thorax, which everyone knew to be an aural translator. With such races as the Arachnians, whose language consisted mostly of clicks and whistle-sounds, many of the delegates found it useful to have these expensive Arachnian devices and avoid misunderstandings during important meetings and discussions - one of Arachnia’s more popular export items.
Losira, Bilar and the First Ambassador were very good linguists, and didn't need such devices. The First Ambassador only used it out of deference to the other delegates.
Losira and Bilar found seats beside the Arachnian and waited for the other delegates to settle. The First Ambassador swung his armored head and surveyed the incoming delegates. He couldn't see them very well, but he had other senses that worked far better in the dim reddish light the others preferred.
Losira and Bilar, on the other hand, had superb eyesight and could see them clearly. Losira's solid ruby eyes, characteristic of Elyran royalty, identified the others as she sipped at the wine left in front of her: There were the Axons, the Daemons, Erocii, Kembels, those from star 453-A, and the Dravidians. Along with the Elyran, Dixx and Arachnian representatives, the people in the room represented a sizable chunk of the most powerful members of the 74-member races in the Federation: a sign of the importance the Assembly gave the issue to be discussed here. Even the representative from star 453-A, a well-known member of the Council of Custodians, condescended to appear.
When all were settled, the meeting was called to order by the chairman, a large bear-like Dravidian. It was conducted in Elyran, as most meetings were. Councilor Cor's short fur was reddish-brown, marking him as one of royal lineage. The Dravidian did not mince words and got down to the matter at hand.
"As I was saying before the recess, my colleagues," he said, continuing the meeting, "the real point of contention is this proposed expedition to the newly-discovered planet of Earth. Some of us," he glanced meaningfully at Losira, Bilar and the First Ambassador, "have been pushing for this ill-timed expedition, while those of us with more sensible dispositions have decided to defer it for a later, more opportune time. We-"
The First Ambassador interrupted. "If I may, Councilor," he said, the red "activate" lock of his translator flashed in cadence with the electronic voice, Cor signaled his consent. "That is all very clear. What is not clear are the objections raised against the expedition in question."
"You are forcing me to repeat myself, Ambassador," Cor said and sighed (or, more properly, wheezed) for dramatic effect. "We have covered that area in great length in the previous meetings."
"If I am, my apologies," he answered, and moved his arms in the traditional gesture for sarcasm mixed with humor, though it was lost with Cor and the others. "But even so, would you be so kind as to forgive my rudeness and refresh my memory."
Ambassador Cor sighed again. He gestured to another Dravidian. "Sel," he said, calling another Dravidian. "Please summarize for the Ambassador the points that have been raised.”
"Certainly," he said and referred to his recording tablet. He toggled it back a few pages and quoted from his notes.
"It has been argued that such a project is non-essential and of low priority at this time, with other Federation projects needing funding more urgently. Secondly, such an expedition has been considered by the majority of those present as a premature move, in view of the fact that the Xenological Committee is yet to put the matter on their agenda, much less consider this new race worthy of an expedition.
"Thirdly, it is the considered opinion of the majority of those present that such an expedition would gain the Federation very little and is not worth the expenditure and effort, not to mention a possible political incident if this were known to the Tirosian Government."
Bilar smiled a small non-believing smile and rapped the polished granite.
"To me," she said mildly, "is pointless to ask who specifically in this group raised these points."
She shifted to the dry and rumbling style of Cor. "To the question of whether expedition is worth trouble and expense, beyond any doubt it is. Technological benefits would gain us more than mere credit."
"And what makes you think that they have these to give?" said the Erocii representative, her spiny antenna bobbing up and down, translator light winking.
"Is obvious from message alone. If half of the things that it hinted at were to be believed, we are talking of the discovery of a race that has surpassed any other single race of Federation in material and technological achievements, which hasn’t happened for a very long time. Taking this as working assumption, am extremely sure that they are an advanced culture that is more than ready for membership."
"Supposition on a supposition," exploded the Erocii, "Are we then to undertake this project on blind faith? I find this totally absurd."
Bilar glared at the arthropod, using her larger bulk to intimidate the smaller alien. The Erocii shrank back on her saddle.
"To me," Bilar said, "conclusions that those opposed to this project have formed are equally absurd." Bilar was half out of her seat.
A shy Elyran male silently entered and handed a small envelope to Losira. She read the note inside and smiled. She dismissed the aide with a whispered message and tried to catch the First Ambassador's attention.
Bilar continued, almost shouting. "Evidence is clearly against you. Does not take a lot of intelligence to see this. Anyone with common sense can see."
Losira put a restraining hand on the tall Dixx's arm and pulled her back. Losira nodded to the First Ambassador and smiled. The Arachnian gestured the sign for victory and agreement.
"My friends," the First Ambassador said as Losira gently pulled Bilar down, "there is no point in bickering amongst ourselves. We should not let our differences get the best of us.
"Now," he said, "the issue at hand can be parsed down to a question of priorities. Everyone agrees that the project could be undertaken provided that other projects were forgone or postponed.
"And," he said meaningfully, glancing at the Dravidians, "none of you are willing to do that." He turned to Cor.
"Councilor Cor," he said, "would not want to halt his favorite project, that of the installation of satellite beacons near the Inner Rim. Of course it is for the good of the Federation, this aid to interstellar navigation. It is just a happy coincidence that Dravidian commercial spacecraft are the ones who most frequently ply those routes.
"Of course no Erocii would dream of halting the geoforming project on Eros Nine. True it would yield substantial amounts of refined metals for the Federation. And who are we to begrudge Erocii from making large profits from the tourist and commercial trade this would bring.
"And, of course none in the military," he said, as he glanced at the many military insignia that adorned many of the councilors' clothes, "would want to reduce the armed forces budget for newer battleships and weapons. The protection of Federation planets cannot be ignored!
"Let us face it," he said, "there is nothing neither I nor my friends can do to change that. But one wonders why these people cannot change their minds when my government diverted a substantial portion of its meager budget from the ice-towing project my people needed so badly, as the drought continues on Arachnia unabated, so that they could assist in this expedition. One also wonders how the Dixx could likewise compromise their reforestation project, knowing how essential that is in maintaining their ecosystem. All in the name of the Federation and its charter.
"There is no question how this will turn out," he said. "And seeing how everyone is so anxious to conserve Federation time and money, I and my friends will cease to bother this so-honored Council, though I and my colleagues would recommend that this council review the Federation Charter.
"Princess Losira has received a special communiqué that I hope you will find interesting." He gestured to Losira.
"I have just received a message from Elyra," she said. "My people wish me to announce the following: 'We, the peoples of Elyra, Dixx and Arachnia,'" she quoted, "'wish to inform the honored Councilors of the Galactic Federation governing body, that we have decided that, in the event of a decision that agrees with the forming of a xenological expedition to the newly-discovered planet of Earth, we offer our own resources in this venture, which includes nine fleet ships and a full complement of explorers.
"'However, if such an expedition is not forthcoming, we wish it be known that we will continue with an expedition of our own, regardless, following the Federation policies and regulations for establishing contact with new races.
"'We hope that the Federation may join us on this enterprise, in keeping with the spirit and ideals on which the Federation was founded, and the spirit of its noble charter. From the Elyran Council for Government, the Arachnian People's Government and the Dixx Ruling Council."
Losira folded the paper with a sharp crease and strode out of the chamber, followed by Bilar and the First Ambassador.
The councilors followed them out with their eyes (and other equivalent senses), and then their attention was turned to Losira's seat. They saw the ceremonial goblet. All of them had chalices, or their equivalents, in front of them, an adaptation of the Elyran custom. All of them were in place except Losira's: she had tipped it over and the wine had collected into a puddle on the granite table's surface.
They knew that such a gesture meant many things, according to Elyran custom. And they knew that one of them was contempt. Cor and the others had the grace to blush (or its equivalent) in shame. With the automatic recorders, they knew that their actions here were now part of the official records. Only time will tell how history will regard their actions. However, the representative from the Council of Custodians smiled a little and silently wished these young upstarts well.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 2)
|
IN THE IMPERIAL CASTLE of Tiros, seat of the Tiros Star Empire, a meeting of the Supreme Ministry was about to start.
Any meeting of the Ministry was always presided over by the Emperor himself, or by his Detterex Prime Minister. This time, both were to attend. The Prime Minister was already at her post, standing to the left of the Emperor's throne. She made sure her battle dress was spotless and her dress sword was in place. She also made sure that her sidearm was ready. Being the lone Detterex in a room full of the reptilian Tirosians, it was best to be sure. She snapped her fingers and a diminutive Tirosian female slave wiped the moisture collecting on the polished wood of the emperor's throne.
Like any Detterex, the prime minister looked just like an Elyran, and like all Detterex, she was taller than any Elyran ever was. No surprise, really, since both races were actually the same, biologically speaking. Up 'til now, many of their historians were still trying to find out where their culture diverged into two, and how they ended up in different planetary systems.
The two ceremonial guards by the great iron doors, brown rust covering them in spots, raised their crossed spears and allowed the Emperor to walk through.
Around his neck was the heavy green emerald Star, the symbol of his seat of power. He wore a heavy purple cape which set off his greenish scaly skin, mottled by many leprous yellow spots - a sign of full maturity.
He walked in his familiar arrogant manner, thrusting his waist forward, displaying his enormous erect phallus, a gesture viewed as a display of strength and arrogant pride in his virility - proper court behaviour.
The Prime Minister bowed and waited while the emperor sat on his throne. He coiled his tail under him, arranged his cape around his shoulders and nodded for the meeting to start.
Although Detterex held a sizable chunk of the Empire, seldom were any of their representatives present in council, and none were around now, except for the Prime Minister. The Detterex were satisfied with allowing the lizard-like Tirosians to manage the Empire but did insist that they be represented. They would not admit that their reputed slow-wittedness did not allow them to meet with Tirosians without a loss of face, nor concede the fact that Tirosians were better at political infighting than they. However, in recent years, their primary representative, by dint of enormous ability, persistence and, most especially ambition, was appointed by the emperor himself to the position of prime minister of the Empire. Though it was undeniable that the prime minister was more than capable, her appointment was largely a shrewd political move by the emperor in order to placate the growing resentment of the empire's Detterex citizens. Besides, it didn't really affect anything - the prime ministership was there only for show.
When the Emperor was seated, the others around the huge hard-wood table sat. Though the humidifiers were working, the furniture had no collected moisture. The Prime Minister had seen to that.
The Emperor reclined in his throne, adjusting his tail to be more comfortable. He gestured to his minister. "Speak," he hissed.
The Prime Minister bowed and activated the projector suspended overhead. The familiar images of the Earth transmission cast themselves on the screen above the great table. "Governors," the Prime Minister said without preamble, "Tiros ground stations received this broadcast one and a half years ago. We still have to trace from where this broadcast originated, but at this point that is purely academic. From our findings, we have also determined the target of the signal was undoubtedly the Federation planets. We only intercepted the fringes of the signal, hence its fragmented reception. Here is the full version."
The thirty sector governors watched the recording. Some were only feigning ignorance: the Prime Minister knew that some have already seen the recording. She was more or less sure of the network of spies within the Castle - she and the Emperor had spies of their own.
As the tape wound down to its final seconds, the Prime Minister began again.
"You then see the implications of this," she said. "An un-allied race with superior technological and material resources. Perhaps a great military asset, if handled correctly."
"Pardon me for the interruption, my lord," Governor Drishnak of the outer sectors interjected. The Prime Minister had a reputation for being quick to anger, which those who have tested her patience before knew from personal experience, but she did her best to hide her irritation now.
The Emperor raised a hand to forestall an argument and nodded for Drishnak to go on.
"Thank you, Excellency," he said and turned back to the prime minister. "You have shown us the recording and all can see the importance of it. No need for the coy introductions, my lady. I trust that you have a purpose for calling us to this meeting? I suggest we go directly to that. Surely this is not about just another raiding expedition?"
The Prime Minister bowed. "As you wish, Governor Drishnak. No, this is not just another raiding party."
She turned to the other governors. "Our strategists, both Detterex and Tirosian, believe that an expedition to this system by the Galactic Federation is imminent. Our Detterex spies on Elyra tell us that an agreement between the Elyran, Arachnian and Dixx governments was formed a few months ago, which was about just such an expedition.
"Our strategists believe that this expedition will be carrying envoys to this Earth, perhaps to open diplomatic relations. And if that should happen, we'll have a lot of problems that may be difficult to resolve."
She punched up an interstellar map on the overhead screen and continued. "Their system is within striking distance of our boundaries, and is between the bulk of the Empire and Federation planets. It is composed of nine major planetary satellites orbiting a medium-sized yellow primary. If the recording is to be believed, they have fully colonized all of their planets, except of course the outer gas giants. But even there, they have colonized the giants' minor satellites. This shows us that they have mastered geoformy, enabling them to restructure a planetary economy to suit their needs."
She turned back to the map. "What interests us most is the fact that they are a scant few light-years from the Federation. Earth could become an ideal military outpost for them. But what is more important is that they are also close to several of our population centers, meaning that they are also strategically very important to us."
The Emperor broke in with a stomp of his foot on the marble floor. Everyone turned to him. He cleared his throat. "Some of our spies," he said, "have informed us that a large force has already been launched from Elyra. This may well be their expeditionary force to Earth. We do not have time to lose."
He rapped on his throne's armrest with his claw-hand. "Admiral Hanoch!" he hissed.
"My Lord," Hanoch replied and stood.
"I order you to launch a strike force to this planet Earth. You are to obliterate these Federation ships and subjugate this new system and annex it as a territorial planet of the Empire."
"As my Lord commands," he said and bowed.
"Minister!"
The Prime Minister approached the throne and bowed. "My Lord."
"No less than five heavy cruisers are to be provided by the other sector governors. You are to order the Detterex fleet commander to provide the Admiral with ten extra cruisers, outfitted with a full complement of attack infantry."
"Yes, my Lord."
The Emperor rose, a signal that the meeting was over. He strode quickly out of the chamber, not even acknowledging the others, but stopping in front of Hanoch. "Do not fail, Hanoch," he said, almost in a whisper.
Hanoch bowed, and the Emperor strode out of the room.
The governors gathered their things and prepared to leave, but Hanoch was ahead of them. He knew that if he did fail his Emperor, his life was forfeit.
Shepherd Moon, Chapter 6: A Little Change
Bill was striding down the hall in his usual, preoccupied manner. The changes made to Triton Station made him feel old, useless. But he knew it was inevitable. New locks were on the doorways, more machinery was running, and more guards and uniformed people with sidearms were in evidence.
It was only a year since the papers for the United Earth Defense Force were finalized and signed, no mean feat considering the unspoken paper war between the Eastern and Western forces.
But to many of the people it was no surprise, considering that the UN Secretary-General herself and the eminent Dr. William Steele were the project's prime movers.
It was also not surprising how strong the people's belief in Bill was. Most knew of Bill and his much publicized talents and accomplishments. He was a certified genius, with an I.Q. of 250. He was tall, well-muscled, though more in the lean lines of a swimmer, good looking, and with a gentle disposition. He knew fifty languages and their attendant dialects, and had degrees in chemistry, electrical and mechanical engineering, computer science and cybernetics, and was also a licensed M.D.
He’d finished his secondary school subjects by age ten through acceleration programs and scholarships, finished all his degrees by age eighteen - the only one in the history of the European Continental University to be allowed to take multiple courses at the same time, and acquired his medical license by age twenty through a special program of the University's Department of Medicine.
But despite his academic attainments well beyond his peers, he did not grow up lacking in what most would call the social graces, as most overachievers and child-geniuses were apt to be. This was due to the fact that he wasn't segregated out of social groups as others were.
And this was largely because of his parents, both widely acclaimed psychologists who knew the probable problems their son would face. They taught him how to behave and be accepted by his peers, not to use his unique position to dominate over them, and thereby be accepted by his friends and classmates.
They allowed him the social freedom given most children, and didn't keep him the way other parents did with child protégés. They encouraged him, from an early age, to join people and make friends; to learn to make allowances for others who couldn't keep up with him intellectually, and never antagonize anyone or show off.
It was because of this that he was always voted president of his class (even if he only stayed in a class for less than a semester before moving on), was always popular with the girls, and was always active in campus activities. Even as he was getting medals for his more than excellent work, he was also voted as the most popular guy on campus. Though his parents didn't stop him making friends with his classmates, who were usually more than five or six years older than him, not to mention about one or two feet taller, they encouraged him to associate more with those closer to his age.
However, though he was exceptional in intelligence, physically he was not so remarkable, except for his height - upon entering puberty, he shot up to more than six feet - about two meters. His physique, though well-toned, showed little muscular definition nor any great strength. However, his consummate coordination and reflexes made him an ideal football player, which were at odds with his love of playing the piano, his mother's favorite instrument, or his skill in fencing, his dad's favorite spectator sport.
After finishing his degrees and his masters, he was recruited by his country’s Space Force. He finished his four-year tour as a captain in the Navy, a veteran of the Asteroid Wars - indeed a full-blooded hero, a decorated member of the Sky Eagles special marines unit, and as a certified M.D. specializing in space medicine.
He then went on to other things. He became the foremost pioneer and greatest advocate of science and space medicine. He developed a new electronic system that jumped computer efficiency a magnitude or so. He developed new medical equipment that simplified diagnosis of patients' conditions, and because of these, the medical community was finally taking the last steps towards the abolition of that ancient scourge: cancer. He also formulated and proved the magnetic field theory that made gravity control and Earthship II possible. And he, of course, discovered and developed Phase-Wave. But everyone knew that.
He thought of the unique path his life had taken. The revelation that his mother and father made right before his twentieth birthday that explained much of it still shook him. Apparently, he was part of a clandestine eugenics experiment that had started in the late nineteen-forties. It was not about any unusual medical treatment or medical procedure, but rather the deliberate (but voluntary) selection of mates with the goal of producing superior progeny. Over the years, though, the "grand experiment" slowly lost headway, as more and more of its believers started doubting the ethics of the program. As such, the unofficial program was discontinued by its few remaining proponents. He was therefore the latest, and the last of the program's supposedly superior humans.
Bill shook his head and banished these bad thoughts, and looked up to find that he was at Main Mission, Triton Center's main control station - the heart and nerve center of the entire complex. It brought back the things he was thinking of a moment ago - of the proposal his good friend Marc and his faithful assistant Walter had told him, and how he felt about it.
But even that he tried to forget for the moment. He'd been monitoring a heavy load of restricted communications between Triton and Earth for a long time now, and he finally decided to get to the bottom of it, and find out what was happening with their galactic neighbors. He pushed his passcard into the newly-installed security lock of Main Mission.
His card bore little resemblance to the standard-issue cards. For a long time now he had quit using his real card, though he still carried that around for identification purposes. Instead he used a card of his own construction. The magnetic dots on one side could be raised and lowered as dictated by a small microchip, whose sole programmed function was to open virtually any lock in the complex.
After inserting his card in the lock, the pressure door rolled back smoothly. No angry buzzers or pre-recorded warnings greeted him: the mindless machine had been fooled.
He walked in and noted the increasing number of military personnel taking up functions that civilians formerly handled. It annoyed him but held his protest in check. He was still in the Navy, after all, though inactive in the Reserves now. His military background was one of the few things that the public knew little about, save for those officers and soldiers who served with him.
He went to A-station, which was Phase-Wave planetary monitoring, and tapped the skinny lieutenant who was currently manning it.
"Good morning. Anything new out there?" he asked good-naturedly.
The officer swiveled around. "Oh," he said. "Doctor Steele. The commander was just looking for you. I think we finally have something via the new phase-wave detectors. Look." He pointed at his screen.
Bill bent over and surveyed the dots on the screen. "Hmm," he murmured softly.
"As you can see," the officer said, "they're in two groups, coming from two different directions. We've been running some computations. One of the two targets has come from somewhere inside the Arm. At least we've traced them as far as the Outer Rim. Doppler shift indicate that they are decelerating at a very rapid rate, and the Brain says that the two targets' destination is here. The Solar System. Just within Pluto's orbit at the plane, in fact."
"Have you identified them, yet?"
Commander Thackary came over. "No, we haven't, but we're working on it, though. Hello, doctor."
"Good morning, Commander," Bill said. "Nothing yet?"
"Nothing. But we expect to get something soon. Some of the boys are having difficulties. Doppler shift, you know."
Bill frowned. "It's not that much of a problem."
"Well," the commander said, "at this time of day, the system's usually overloaded, and we've been having some problems with -,"
Bill grunted in suspicion and turned away, walking to a vacant terminal. "Somehow, I don't believe that."
He inserted his home-made passcard and punched a high-level User Password. He addressed the terminal's microphone and spoke in crisp and clear syllables.
"Priority alpha-delta three. Accept emergency manual override to the operating system, category security officer."
The terminal responded after a few seconds. "Priority override accepted. Proceed."
Key terminals started shutting down. The exclamations of various operators all over the room could be heard as the system started shutting them down to prevent them from being able to take a look at whatever Bill was doing.
Bill punched in a linkage between his terminal and the system's random-query data retrieval subsystem. No one but Bill and Walter knew of its existence, because they were the ones who installed it in the system in the first place.
Bill started a dialogue with the computer, his queries displayed in capital letters, while the computer answered in lower-case.
"QUERY - IDENTIFY TARGET IMAGES ON A-STATION TERMINAL. ARE THEY OR ARE THEY NOT NATURAL SPACE BODIES I.E. METEORITES. ELABORATE"
"rqdrs - images not of natural phenomena. images consistent with spacecraft- type profiles"
"QUERY - ARE THE TARGETS CONSISTENT WITH EARTH SPACECRAFT PROFILES. ELABORATE"
"rqdrs - images inconsistent with earth spacecraft profiles. interrogation of database shows no earth spacecraft possible to be in that sector. further interrogation shows no current earth spacecraft type capable of such maneuvers"
"QUERY - IDENTIFY TARGETS USING NON-TERRAN SPACECRAFT PROFILES"
"rqdrs - first target consistent with profile for galactic federation spacecraft. second target consistent with tiros empire spacecraft"
Bill stared at the last line. He started typing furiously.
"QUERY - BREAK DOWN TARGETS TO INDIVIDUAL BODIES. IDENTIFY EACH AS TO SIZE AND TYPE"
"rqdrs - first body composed of 9 spacecraft consistent with battle-cruiser configuration. second body composed of 22 separate spacecraft: 13 battle-cruisers, 7 heavy-escort ships, 2 fuel carriers"
"By God," Bill murmured.
"QUERY - COMPUTE COURSE OF BOTH TARGETS RELATIVE NEPTUNE"
"rqdrs - targets will rendezvous within 600 million miles of neptune"
"QUERY - EXTRAPOLATE FROM ALL PERIPHERAL DATA TO GET OBJECTIVES OF ALIENS, DISPLAY MOST PROBABLE COMBINATION"
"rqdrs - insufficient data to achieve 90% accuracy. most probable combination indicates that targets will rendezvous with planet earth after imminent battle engagement"
"Jesus," Bill cried.
"QUERY - INTERROGATE CURRENT FILE, CROSS-REFERENCE A-STATION IMAGES. WHAT ACTIONS HAVE BEEN TAKEN REGARDING ALIEN SPACECRAFT"
"rqdrs - inter-system defense craft has been diverted to triton center, and will arrive within one-point-nine months for refuel and resupply. spacecraft will than rendezvous with targets at moment of engagement three-point-one months later. mission orders are to intercept and repel hostile intruders prior to reaching inner system boundary"
"Goddammit. Who's the jackass..." Bill choked himself off and continued typing.
"QUERY - CONFIRM MISSION ORDERS"
"rqdrs - mission orders confirmed as: intercept and repel hostile aliens prior to reaching inner-system boundary, by order of commodore karpatov, upon recommendation by commander thackary, neptune command"
Bill swore and signed off. He whirled on Thackary. The commander looked away.
"Well, commander? Do you want to tell me about it?" Bill's eyes flashed angrily.
The commander stammered. "Well, uh - it is, after all, a military matter. I did what I thought best in the interests of the System."
"And you never once gave a thought to the general directive ordering you to inform and consult with CETI Central about any matter touching on extraterrestrials?"
"Well, you see, doctor, I -,"
"Never mind," Bill said angrily, gestured him aside and walked over to the comm console.
"Get me an open line to United Earth Defense Forces Headquarters," he said to the young officer operating the console.
The junior officer glanced nervously from Bill to the commander.
"Did you hear me, soldier?" Bill said angrily. "I said get me an open line to headquarters. Now!"
Damn smartass son of a bitch, Thackary thought, but never mind. Better this than him causing a scene. "It's all right, lieutenant. Let him through."
Bill nodded in angry satisfaction. All right, Thackary thought. Let's see you get through. And even if you do, the commodore will back me up a hundred percent. Thackary smiled a small knowing smile, and waited.
The operator's fingers flew over the keys and a face soon appeared on the screen which promptly responded, thanks to Phase-Wave.
"United Earth Defense Force Headquarters," the young ensign on the screen said. "May I help you?"
Bill leaned over the screen. "Please connect me to the Fleet Admiral, ensign."
Thackary and the console operator were taken aback. The Admiral! Who does he think he is, thought Thackary, but the ensign on the screen just flashed her practiced, professional smile. She was used to turning down cranks.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said blandly, "but Fleet Command communications are restricted to priority military calls, or to authorized personnel only." She moved as if to break the connection.
"Wait!" Bill exclaimed, and brought out his long-unused passcard. "I think you'll find me one of those authorized people you were referring to." He inserted his card into the terminal and punched the Transmit button. The ensign on the screen leaned over to someone out of range of the picture. "Crackpots," she muttered to the one off-screen, but turned back to face them.
"I assure you, sir, your identification code will not help you to- ,"
Bill waved her down. "Even so, humor me. Even crackpots pay their taxes, you know." The ensign gave him a sour smile but bent over to her right and read the thin flimsy that extruded out of her printer.
Her eyes grew large and gasped with surprise. She fairly goggled at Bill's priority access level - the highest she'd ever seen. He must be the Admiral's fair-haired boy, she thought incredulously, but she still went through the motions of confirming the code.
After a while, she said, "Priority six access confirmed, ahh, Captain." She was a little red with embarrassment. "Just got caught off-guard for a moment. Very few official calls go through the front desk, sir. I am clearing you to block one, Fleet Command." She smiled nervously at Bill. "I'm sorry, sir, but it will take a few minutes. Please stand by."
"That's all right, dear," Bill said.
The ensign smiled in some relief. "Thank you, sir." The screen was replaced by a color test pattern.
Thackary's eyes were raised in surprise. "Captain...?" he asked a little lamely.
"I was with the Navy a while back," Bill said in calculated nonchalance. "I'm in the reserves now."
The screen came alive again. "Fleet Command, EDF Headquarters," said a stone-faced marine.
"Please connect me to the Fleet Admiral's Office," Bill said. "I want to talk to the Fleet Admiral."
Thackary's eyebrows were fairly climbing up into his hair, but he kept his mouth shut. He never thought that Bill might get through. And to the Admiral himself!
"Level six clearance is confirmed, captain. Connecting you now to the Admiral's private circuit."
Soon, the picture coalesced into the craggy features of Fleet Admiral Benjamin Silverman. The gruff Englishman was frowning.
"Alright, alright," he said without preamble. "Who's there? What do you want?" But his eyes soon smiled in recognition. "By Jove, it's William!"
"Bill smiled.” Hello, sir."
"By God, this is sensational. How have you been, old boy? Been keeping well, I trust."
"Quite well, sir. And congratulations, by the way."
Silverman laughed. "Nothing like a bloody emergency to speed up the promotions, eh?" He laughed again.
"You've earned it. You've gone a long way since I was under your command."
"I suppose so. Yes, a long time since I've had you under my command. But enough of this chit-chat. I trust this call is an official one, or else I'm going to have to ask you to get off the line. What is it?"
"We have a problem, sir," Bill said, and quickly outlined what was happening.
The Admiral mused for a moment. "Yes, we've picked up those blips here as well. But that's as far as I know." He looked up. "You know, none of this has reached me, yet. Hold on a moment." The Admiral leaned back and rifled through a very thick sheaf of papers.
"Yes, here it is. Quadrant A42. Unidentified bodies, suspected to be natural phenomena..."
"But it's not. We could have gotten the information to you sooner, but the base command here has been less than cooperative. Getting anything from this bunch is like trying to pull out teeth."
"And you say that an intercept force has been launched already," the admiral said, and looked up to the screen. "Let me speak to the commander, please."
Bill stepped aside for Thackary.
"Aye, sir?" the commander said.
"Commander," the admiral said, "I would like to know the reason why I was not informed of this matter immediately, and why Doctor Steele here has been having trouble getting information out of your people. Have you, by any chance, forgotten the EDF's agreement with CETI that, in turning over to us their facilities, we would, in good faith, inform the CETI staff of matters such as these, immediately as they come?"
"Sir, please," Thackary pleaded. "I thought it best if I kept this matter confidential. You see, I-,"
"You take a lot upon yourself, don't you, commander? Did it ever occur to you that such a decision is not within the limits of your command? That disobeying a direct general fleet command makes you liable for a court martial?"
Thackary shrank back. "Sir, I assure you that my actions were approved by the sector commanding officer."
"It was, eh?" Silverman turned to his desk intercom. "Evelyn? Would you please find out who is holding down sector operations for Neptune?"
"That would be Commodore Karpatov, sir," the admiral's secretary answered. "Commanding officer for Sector Seven."
"William," the admiral said, "I will have to get back to you on this. I have to, ahh... how do you say it, I have to 'kick some butts' down here."
"Aye, sir," Bill said, smiling.
"And enough of that 'sir' rubbish, all right? I'll call you up soon. Commander, I will be calling you back in fifteen."
"Sir!"
"Endit."
"Endit," Bill agreed, and the connection was broken. Bill pulled out his card, thanked the lieutenant politely, and walked out of Main Mission. Thackary and his staff officers followed his exit with something more than stunned surprise. Bill hid a smile, rather enjoying the feeling.
That smile faded, however, as his thoughts went back to his earlier discussion with Marc and Walter.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 3)
|
"So what's this all about, Marc," he had said just a couple of hours before, when he and Walter were sitting in Marc's office sipping coffee. "I appreciate this a lot - we needed a break. But we're really just too busy..."
"Bill," Marc said, "I needed your opinion on an idea that the kids in the CETI alien encounter group came up with. I thought it a little off-the-wall myself, but I was all ready to sign off on it. Then again, I thought to ask you first."
"Walter and I are all ears. Shoot."
"Here are the preliminaries - based on the current CETI research, some of the major races in the Federation seem to be matriarchal in nature, that is to say, their societies are dominated by females. At least some of those races with male and female genders."
"Well, that's a bit of a slippery slope. For example, statistically, if you are looking at the slightly higher number of males of influence in human society compared with females, you could probably say humans have a patriarchal society. Although there is some superficial truth to that, in this day and age, there are no real preferences in roles for genders forced by current human mores, except those that individuals prefer for themselves, and neither gender has any dominance over the other, at least not anymore.
"But... until we actually visit Elyra ourselves, Marc, we won't really know anything for sure."
"Good argument, Bill. However, the analysts say that, at least with the Elyrans, and they think the Detterex as well, their society is indeed matriarchal. Or as sure as they can be."
"As it happens, I agree with them, actually. So what?"
"So... we also know they have a feudal system running, and you know how that went for us."
"I don't understand what you're getting at, doctor," Walter said.
"Counting coup, saving face, loyalty to one's liege, caste systems, social classes, slaves, serfs, noblemen et cetera, et cetera."
"What?"
"That's what goes for normal in feudal societies. I doubt if our own present social system would be acceptable to the Elyrans."
"Doctor, I don't under..."
"As technologically advanced and as old as their civilization is compared to Humanity, their society doesn't seem to be quite so progressive. They seem to share many parallels to our older eras, excect that the more dominant gender is the female."
Bill sighed in exasperation and looked to Walter. "See this, Walter?" He gestured to Marc. "This is the good doctor's lecture style that everyone who has had to sit in his class knows oh, so well. He will draw out the discussion, doling out the information piece by piece until..."
Marc laughed. "All right, Bill. Simmer down. Here's the idea that the kids came up with. It was their thought that it would be best if all of our personnel who would be in positions of command should be female."
"Huh?" Walter said. "Female? What..."
"Would Attila have been able to rule the Huns if he were female? Would the French army have followed and died for Napoleon if he were a woman? Would Guinevere have been able to create the Knights of the Round Table instead of Arthur?"
"But that's no longer true," Walter argued. "Look at Golda Meir, Indira Ghandi, and Margaret Thatcher. Hell, look at Secretary-General Romarkin."
"Indeed," Marc said. "But as far as our information shows, Elyra is more like England of the middle ages. And, in middle-age England, would a woman even be able to ask for the time of day? Do you see the point?"
"So what they are suggesting," Bill said, "is that all of our people that are supposed to work with the Elyrans should be women?"
"That is hardly possible, of course," Walter said.
"They know that," said Marc. "So, instead, what they are suggesting is that we load our crews with as many females as possible, especially in command positions."
"I can just imagine the recruitment posters..."
Walter laughed. "How about, 'we are looking for a few good women?'"
"Or how about, 'one small step for woman; one giant leap for womankind...'" Bill volunteered.
"Hey, how about this? 'To boldly go where no woman has gone before!' Good god, doctor, isn't the human race done with all of this gender nonsense?"
Bill patted Walter on the shoulder. "Hold on, Walter," he said.
"You can laugh about this all you want, Walter" Marc said, "but Silverman is about to issue the order."
"Silverman?" Bill said, surprised. "You don't mean Benjamin Silverman?"
"Yes. He was appointed by Allie as the new Fleet Commander just a month ago. He's well regarded by the military on both sides. Allie told me he was the only choice that was acceptable to all the major powers."
"Silverman's a good man. He was my commanding officer during my mandatory service. Good choice."
"Well, good choice or not, he's the fleet admiral now, and he is about to issue this." Marc handed Bill a sheet of paper.
Bill read it quickly and passed it on to Walter.
After a bit, Walter looked up. "Hmm. Listen to this: 'It shall be the responsibility of all commanders whose units will come in contact with non-terrestrial personalities, entities or units, to insure two thirds of their units shall be under the command of a female officer, and this ratio shall be maintained in all command structures, from platoons or wings up to fleet-size forces.' I wonder how he intends enforce that."
"You're forgetting, 'units under a female commander are the only units that can be assigned missions that will expressly engage non-terrestrial forces,'" Marc quoted from memory.
"Yeah, that, too," Bill said. "Well, all I can say is, good luck to him."
"But you agree, Bill?"
"Sure."
"Silverman doesn't like it but he has no choice. The whole point of the joint military is to defend against the aliens..."
"Not necessarily defend against..."
"Don't split hairs, Bill. You know what I meant. The CETI kids won't sign off on the fleet without this, so Silverman has no choice. He did say that he wanted three things that the government has to guarantee, though."
"Which are?"
"That any political fallout from this will be managed by the civilian authorities, that this policy will be in force for a limited period only, and that this is not to be kept confidential since there is virtually no chance of this being kept from the public given the size of the new fleet."
"That's the Silverman I know! He IS the best person for the job."
"You agree?"
"Hell yeah, I agree. Silverman's right - no secrecy. Send a communiqué to him, and suggest the following changes: add the phrase, 'These general directives shall be in force until the current xenological crisis has passed,' as well as 'to be strictly complied with,' and at the end, include the phrase, 'all inquiries regarding these directives are to be directed to the Alien Threat Assessment Command, Triton Base.'"
"Uh, Bill," Walter said, "Alien Threat Command? There's no such thing..."
"I know. So you and Marc and maybe Admiral Silverman, too, should get cracking and make up this new command right away. I suggest you start picking people from CETI you think would be appropriate to draft into the service." Bill smiled mischievously.
"And what, pray tell, would this command be doing?"
"Why, to educate the military about the aliens, of course. What else? And to handle the press and to act as buffer for the military in case anyone raises an issue."
"What else, indeed," Marc said dryly. "I better get on the phone to Allie and the admiral then."
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 4)
|
All these things went through Bill's mind as he thought of what he had just seen. "Aliens are a-comin’,'" he whispered to himself, half excited and half worried. "Woohoo..."
The purpose of the original transmission was to get these aliens to come. And here they are. But who'd have guessed Federation and Tiros ships would come at the same time. They thought that was virtually impossible, so no one ever planned for this. The only conclusion here was that maybe both groups found out about the transmission at the same time. And it seems everyone underestimated the impression that the transmission would make... So here come the aliens, in force, racing to make sure they get dibs on the new planet. The computer was probably right. Fireworks...
Bill made the decision. He wanted to be part of the group that will be meeting up with them, but, more than that, he wanted to be in a position to influence events. And besides, this was all his fault. He'll be damned if he'll be the cause of interstellar war.
He stepped to the side to let the foot traffic pass him by. He punched the speed dial for Sahsha on his chronometer - an interplanetary call as easy and as cheaply as any local call - something that would have been unthinkable before, but thanks to Phase-Wave, making such a call now was something that people took for granted.
"Hey, Bill," Sahsha's tiny image said.
"Hi, Sahsha," Bill answered. "I got a question."
"Shoot."
"How do I go about getting a sex change?"
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 5)
|
Bill looked at his reflection in the Crystalline mirror, feeling slightly foolish in his brand new uniform. Not because of the uniform, really, since he'd worn military clothes before, but more because he was wearing shiny black high-heel pumps and tights instead of dress shoes and socks, and a short skirt instead of pants. And the shirt and coat felt different somehow, since they were tailored to accommodate his new feminine curves and bustline, with darts sewn into the blouse to accommodate his bra, his newly-grown breasts and surgically-altered waistline. Still, they felt comfortable enough.
The four silver braids glinted prominently on his sleeve-cuffs, complementing the four silver stripes and blue sunburst chevron on each of his shoulder-boards: insignia of a navy captain, but in the design of the new United Earth Defense Forces Fleet.
He adjusted his shoulder-braid and prepared for his debut. No one in the CETI staff knew that he was ever in the navy, except for a few people. But with his new look and identity, that hardly mattered now.
He picked up his cap and briefcase, and was turning to leave when his door swung open.
"Hey, Bill, I - ," Jerry Singh was saying, then he caught sight of him.
"Whoa," Jerry exclaimed. "You're lookin' real hot, Bill... I mean Mia. And nice set of threads, too... captain." He laughed.
Mia (she resolved to think of herself as a female from now on) made a dismissing, irritated gesture. "Alright, Jerry. Cut the crap. I don't need you to finish off this lousy day for me." Besides the good-natured kidding, there was a lot more that had contributed to her foul mood... Hormones.
Old man Silverman, quite aware of his appointive position, and very anxious to keep it, ran over to his de-facto commander-in-chief, UN Secretary-General Alexandra Romarkin, and informed her of the situation. They conceded that the case in point was in fact a military situation, and is therefore off-limits to civilian interference. To allow them to interfere would endanger the delicate balance they had been trying to maintain to keep the United Nations' United Earth Defense Force in existence. The flag officers of the new navy were very touchy as it is.
However, First Contact is another touchy matter best handled by the most qualified person - someone who knew as much as anyone about the aliens, but had to be in the military as well, AND was even-handed at diplomacy and protocol. And it had to be a woman.
That was how Bill, now Mia, was transferred from Reserves to active service. Silverman "accepted" Bill's proposal. Bill's new assignment: to assume command of task force 41/18, intercept the alien fleet, and to take steps as necessary to insure the welfare of the race. But he would do so as a woman... So goodbye, Dr. William Charles Steele. Hello, Captain Amelia Catherine Steele.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 6)
|
Changing sexes had its real beginnings in the first half of the twentieth century, to address what they used to call gender identity disorder which, though it wasn't widespread, it was common enough that people knew about it. This disorder was probably due to the rigid norms surrounding old twenty-first century gender roles. In Twenty-third century Earth, though, a more relaxed and tolerant society prevailed, and GID cases were very uncommon (at least those that weren't genetically caused).
Still, it was easy for present-day medicine to accomplish what surgeons could only dream of before. Cloning new, genetically compatible... "spare parts" was pretty straightforward nowadays, as well as surgically transplanting them into people's bodies (computer-assisted micro-scalpels and other instruments made the surgery so much easier). And although creating equivalent parts in the opposite sex was slightly more difficult, it was extremely do-able, so sex-changers now had the benefit of full functionality.
For Bill/Mia’s transformation, force-growing the parts took less than a week, and the surgical operations needed to replace his male reproductive and glandular organs with female ones even less time. Strategic bone decalcification made Bill's bones pliable enough that the doctors were able to change his skeletal structure into a more feminine configuration, and re-calcification permanently fixed them that way, giving Bill a permanently wide-hipped stance, along with the appropriate hip-swinging walk that men find so attractive. His wide shoulders were narrowed, his legs, arms and neck lengthened into the female ideal, his eyes were made to appear larger and his forehead made smoother, his nose made appropriately smaller, his cheekbones built up, and his chin reduced. Additional surgery to shave down his Adam’s apple and to modify his voice box (which gave him an incredibly sensual, low, but undeniably feminine voice) were the last of the major surgeries. Minor chemical and electrical skin treatments followed, which removed hair follicles where they were not wanted and left them where they were. And liquefaction & relocation of adipose cells made it easy to change his body measurements to the ideal female measurement-ratios. His now-longer (and slimmer) arms, legs and very elegant neck gave her a couple more inches in height. Her updated medical charts now had her height at six feet two inches.
The chemical and hormone treatments that followed took longer than the time it took to grow the parts, complete the surgical procedures and finish the calc/decalc & fat mobilization treatments combined, but they were necessary to soften his skin appropriately as well as change his muscle density into female configurations. In the end, all the procedures made her one of the most attractive women ever to enter military service. By design.
Most of the scientists in CETI tended to anthromorphize the aliens, and they argued that similar-looking species with similar needs will have similar aesthetics. (Spectral analysis of almost all of the Federation and Tiros worlds showed they had oxygen-nitrogen atmospheres in ratios similar to Earth's, with chlorophyll-based flora in quantities similar to pre-21st-century Earth, as well as similar ambient temperatures, color spectra radiation levels, and with gravity ranges well within Earth-normal.) The doctors from BuPers and BuMed thought that was a specious argument, but since studies showed that soldiers tend to more readily obey attractive people, they agreed to Bill's "redesign."
BuMed did insist on one final item before they would allow BuPers to clear the new woman for military service - a psychological test, conducted by the famous civilian psychotherapist, Doctor Isabella Puerrot.
After telling the military to get her all the information they could get about Bill, as well as all the details of Bill's transformation, the legendary doctor shut herself in her office for a day, and then afterwards asked to meet with Bill, now Mia.
She met Mia at the Bethesda Military Medical Center, which was just a few minutes' from Washington DC by jumper belt. There she met with Mia, who was undergoing the last of her physical therapy. During one of Mia's therapy breaks, they indulged in small talk.
Dr. Puerrot told Mia a riddle. "A man goes to a bar," she said, "goes to the bartender and asks for a glass of water. The bartender brings out an old-fashioned shotgun and shoots at the man. Why?"
That basically was the extent of her evaluation. Puerrot laughed with Mia at the joke, and noted down Mia's answer.
Before leaving the hospital grounds, Puerrot called Admiral Silverman as she waited for a taxi.
"She passed," she told the admiral, and disconnected without any more explanation.
Not sure how to interpret that, Silverman had her summoned to his office.
"Mademoiselle Steele passes with flying colors, Admiral," Puerrot said in the admiral's office. (As soon as she got out of the taxi, she was kidnapped, very nicely though, and brought to the admiral.) "She is as sane as you or I, and she is adjusting well to her change. I guarantee that she will have no psychotic breaks, nor will she experience any kind of break from reality as a result of her transformation. No doubt she will have momentary difficulties from time to time, but she will get over these minor troubles quickly. And I am sure she will excel in this new journey of self, as she has always done with all the things that she has set her mind to do. She is an impressive, remarkable, brilliant, and quite attractive young woman, Admiral. Take my word for it: she can be relied upon."
"Doctor, your exam amounted to you asking her a single question - a riddle. That's your so-called examination?"
"Well, that and an exhaustive review of his background, history and files. And I spent an hour in the company of the lovely, young woman, and I got to know her."
Silverman sighed and gave up. "All right."
As the doctor stood to leave, Silverman asked her a final question. "I am curious, doctor, how did she answer the riddle anyway?"
Puerrot smiled. "She said, 'the bartender took a shot at the man because he had the hiccups.'"
"Eh? That's it? What does that prove?"
"Think about it, Admiral."
She shook his hand one last time and left.
He did think about it, and he agreed with the doctor. Silverman had also raised an eyebrow at the word "attractive," but after asking the hospital to send him some pictures and video of Mia later after the doctor left his office, he had to agree with that, too.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 7)
|
It was like a whirlwind. It took a week and a half to travel to Earth, a little over five weeks for the surgeries and medical procedures, and another week and a half to travel back to Triton. Just in time to meet up with Intercept Fleet 41/18. This made Mia a less-than-happy girl.
The other reason for Mia's foul mood was that, since she was now officially "non-civilian," she had to give up her post as a CETI member. CETI's present policy was that, under no circumstances would any military personnel act in any capacity for CETI whatsoever. It was the only way to keep CETI free of the military's claws.
Bill/Mia had already found her replacement in her assistant and friend, Walter Thorpe, and had already removed all of Bill's things from his office so Walter could move in. The only thing left to do now was to tell the people.
It was time to lift the veil of secrecy over the matter which had, in its own way, created more problems. Sure, the arrival of three space cruisers had caused more rumors than the truth, for, though it was easy to hide the departure of DSR Seeker, Hermes and Constellation down on Earth, where dozens of spacecraft arrive and depart every day, it wasn't so easy to hide their arrival in distant Triton. But that seemed so minor compared to the uproar within the CETI organization that was caused by the drafting of Bill and several important CETI analysts.
"Time to go now, Bill," Jerry said to her. "I mean, Mia." Jerry smiled sheepishly.
"I guess it is," she answered her friend and tried to smile. She sighed and picked up her briefcase again. The other CETI anthropologists and linguists that she'd had commissioned for the intercept fleet (which sounded better than saying she had them drafted) had gone on ahead, and it was time to join them.
As she turned to close the door, they heard the fast tap-tap of high heels approaching. It was Sahsha. The high-heeled shoes she preferred to wear (probably to offset her height) and their tap-tap-tap was very much the trademark that the people in the base had come to know her by.
"Mia!" she cried.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 8)
|
Seeing Sahsha again was good. Bill/Mia always had to smile. Every time he saw Sahsha, he/she just had to. He'd always been attracted to the petite little lady, and perhaps his, now her, feelings for Miriam were all that was stopping him/her from pursuing the relationship. But Miriam, after her numerous trips to the hospital to visit Bill, had made her feelings clear. They will always be best friends, she said, but she could never love a woman. In that way. Mia didn't argue the point even as she hugged little David and his twin brother Peter to her and looked out her hospital room window in silence. After a while, she turned back to Miriam, eyes bright, and smiled sadly at her and nodded her acceptance. Miriam's visits tended to be short, as her spacer's physique made her uncomfortable in the slightly higher Earth gravity. (It was too late for Miriam, but she was making sure her kids would not have the same problem, and brought them to Earth as often as she and Marc could, and would continue to do so, at least until they had passed puberty.)
The sex change had made Mia give up so many things, so many relationships, so many friendships, and her unrequited love for Miriam was one of these things. In a way, it was a good thing, coz she could now close this part of her life, and allow her and Miriam to move on.
But now that her thoughts shifted to Sahsha, she prayed that Sahsha wouldn't be someone she would have to give up as well.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 9)
|
Mia and Jerry stopped to wait for her. Mia smiled in greeting, and waved for Jerry to go on ahead.
"The Seeker's here," Sahsha said.
"Yes, I know," answered Mia as they linked arms.
"You're leaving pretty soon, aren't you?"
"Yup. Just going over to Main Mission now, to watch Jerry make the announcement."
They walked in companionable silence for a while.
"You’re going to miss... Miriam, aren't you?" she said suddenly, breaking the silence.
She stopped and turned her around. "Hey, what is this?" she asked and lifted her chin, a faint smile flitting across her lips. "Don't tell me you're jealous. Nothing's going on between me and Miriam. We're just friends."
"No, I'm not," she said defiantly, turning her too-bright eyes on her. Bill could always read her like an open book, an ability she sometimes loved and sometimes hated, and Mia was no different. "I'm not," Sahsha repeated.
Mia placed her hands gently on her shoulders. "Yes, I'll miss her," she said, and bent down to kiss her softly on the lips. "But, I'll miss you, too. Even as I am now. Very much."
"Oh, Mia," she cried softly and wrapped her arms around her neck.
"Hey," she said, "It's not as if I'm not coming back." She rubbed her back gently, soothing her. "Lighten up a little, huh?" She pulled her into her arms.
Passers-by raised their eyebrows in curiosity but they both ignored them.
The Base P.A. suddenly boomed to life, breaking their shared moment of intimacy. They needed Mia in Main Mission, the voice said.
Wordlessly, they turned, still holding hands, and walked in the direction of Main Mission, each wrapped in private thoughts.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 10)
|
After Jerry's presentation, Mia stood in front of Main Mission's master console, her back to the large Mission Screen. At least Main Mission's been cleared of those uniformed jokers, she thought, and addressed the whole of CETI. She looked around for Miriam and Marc, but they had said their good-byes already. Probably didn't want to be there.
All the people in main mission were friends, and she could count on them keeping his/her... change secret. Though she knew that wouldn't be for long, and it would eventually leak out. Mia just wanted to make sure the ships would already be out before the story leaked.
"Many of you," she began, her face and voice reaching her people through the P.A., "have no doubt been hearing some rumors flying around for some time, by now. Well, let me put all of them to rest."
She then gave them a short summary of the discovery of the alien spacecraft, adding to the information Jerry gave, the spacecrafts' probable origins and intentions, and that they were only less than three months away from Neptune. She told them about the three ships that have just arrived from Earth and their mission orders. And then she told them about the role she was about to play.
"Few of you know that I was formerly with the Navy, as an officer in the American space fleet, working with the allies, and that I fought in the Asteroid Wars. But that was a long time ago, and I resigned from active duty. Now, this emergency has come up, and the Secretary-General has seen it fit to draft me back into active service … In the form you see me in now."
There was a lot of murmuring. The people had already found out what had been done to Bill, and the large turnout was partly because of the curiosity they had about the new female Dr. Steele.
"Let me first tell you that I volunteered for this change,” she continued. “All of you know why it was necessary. But know also that I was not forced into this. I did so willingly. I hope this doesn't affect your perception of me. I am still the same person, except for the obvious changes, of course." She humorously gestured at herself, especially at her new chest. Most laughed with the new Mia - who still had the same wry humor that Bill was known for. Many were pleased to know that underneath it all, it was still Bill.
"I'd like you to keep this quiet for now,” she said. “I don't mean that you should keep it secret - just don't tell anyone anything unless they ask." She paused a bit as many nodded in agreement. "Now, on to the main subject - as I have just said, I have been ordered to take command of intercept fleet 41/18 as soon as possible, and because of this, I have to leave CETI. I have therefore appointed Dr. Walter Thorpe to take over in my behalf." She gestured for Walter to join her in front.
"So," she continued, "Starting now, direct your wonderful little problems to him. I am now officially resigned.
"My best to you all. And my heartfelt thanks."
She put on her uniform cap. It was a significant gesture - a punctuation.
In front of everyone, Mia shook Walter's hand. "Congratulations, Walter. And good luck." She gave him a friendly sock on the shoulder and a light kiss on the cheek, and then walked out of Main Mission.
"Bill," Walter said softly, but Bill/Mia didn't turn around as everyone followed her with their eyes as she left.
"Bye, Bill... I mean, Mia..."
Shepherd Moon, Chapter 7: Back To Normal, Sort Of…
Bill stepped into the "mud turtle" shuttle - one of many in Seeker's complement, and was met by the little ship's co-pilot.
"Permission to come aboard, ensign."
"Granted, sir. And welcome to Seeker shuttle oh-four."
She wondered where Mike, Pedro and the other CETI specialists she had requisitioned were in all of this. She hoped they were okay.
The flight to the seeker was uneventful, and they entered Seeker's deck without a hitch.
Mia surveyed the large pressurized bay through the shuttle's window as she waited to get out. The Seeker's fighter-craft fleet was in various states of disrepair. Streamlined fuselages were cracked open, exposing their inner mechanisms like metal and plastic intestines. People in protective clothing, scurried from one machine to another.
The bay itself was also undergoing furious repairs, as was the whole ship. The tell-tale flashes of laser welding bounced off the deck and curved ceiling as technicians hastened to replace worn out or outmoded fixtures and equipment.
The whole Seeker was, in fact, outmoded, a veteran of the Third World War. An out-dated battlewagon. It could clearly be seen in its streamlined, aerodynamic silhouette. It was one of the few large-scale spacecraft still flying that were designed to be able to operate in atmospheric conditions as well as in the vacuum of space.
The new spacecraft under construction were however radically different from Seeker. Besides incorporating the latest space drives and gravity generators like the FTL stardrive engines designed by the year-old Propulsion Research Commission, they all looked like massive conglomerations of bulky and awkward modules and living sections, whose designers’ only concession to anything approaching streamlining were considerations for off-axis tangential stress loads and off-axis thrust. (A good spacecraft, after all, had to be maneuverable and be able to stand up to all the possible gyrations and manoeuvres its commander would see fit to put it through, and not just be air-tight.)
To a very noticeable extent, this type of thinking now extended to most other space vehicles, even those which, as a necessary part of their function, had to operate in both air and space. Although these ships were very effective, they could not be called beautiful.
The Seeker and its squadron of twenty-five Shrike fighters, plus a smaller complement of shuttles and troop carriers, did not share this design preference. They were holdovers from a time when people were still "Earth-minded:" - as well as being efficient in vacuum conditions, they were also sleek, fast and efficient in the air, looking more like metal birds of prey than spacecraft.
The new fleet craft under construction had the newly-developed supra-light engines of the Propulsion Research Commission, the new UN body formed to create a working design for a faster-than-light propulsion system. It was something of a miracle that the project was working so well. Mia knew from her experience with CETI that it was all a question of the best minds in the System working together with a single goal. In fact, half the fleet was already finished and just undergoing shakedown, and the last of the new fleet were in their final stages of construction.
Even so, none of them except the Constellation and Hermes were available for this little shindig. So the top brass did the next best thing: Intercept fleet 41/18 was composed of two large "Inter-system Defense Craft" (a long-winded way of saying they were sub-lights), the Constellation and Hermes, plus a third ship - the old DSR Seeker. It was a matter of beggars not being choosers.
Hermes' and Constellation's bulky, ugly facades contrasted greatly with Seeker's. As new ships, they didn't need refits. Not so with the Seeker.
From what she saw in the shuttle's windows as they flew in, the refit being undertaken on the Seeker was quite an extensive one. During her short flight up, she saw the engine sections half torn off. It hinted at the radical changes being done, and it bothered Mia.
She saw the original blueprints of for the Seeker's redesign, and they didn't seem to match the changes now being made. For example, there was an engine pod behind each of the two wings, which were not supposed to be there.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 11)
|
Having landed in the hangar without incident, they got the all-clear and she got out and waited by the shuttle hatch. She smiled her thanks as the shuttle crew disembarked and left to file their report.
She waited for some sort of a reception committee for some time, dodging maintenance people busy securing and checking out the shuttle, but she was becoming bored. She went looking for them instead. Mia started accosting ratings and some ensigns who didn't look so busy to direct her to Commander O'Connell.
At Mia's polite question, Petty officer second class Cassel looked up from the recalcitrant valve she was helping a spacer weld into place. She wiped her sweaty brow with her greasy forearm, and gestured down a corridor.
"The commander's down in Propulsion, sir, with Yardmaster Collins," she said. "Just follow the signs."
"Thank you," she said, and went through the corridor. Curious eyes followed her out.
When the lift doors opened to the Propulsion Section, or more commonly known as the Engine Room, she was not surprised to find it a shambles. Torn components were ripped out of the walls and littered the deck. Exposed ducts and pipes hung loose from the ceiling and trailed wires and cables, which made a spaghetti-like mess on the deck, making the already confusing helter-skelter of workmen and equipment even more chaotic.
At first, Mia thought that the room was open to space. She nervously looked around for a pressure suit, but it took a second glance for her to recognize Crystalline shields snapped over the hull. Through the transparent metal she could see a space tug hauling an engine section away, and another tug towing another toward the ship. Mia recognized the section as the coil assembly of an FTL antigravity engine, but it sported odd lumps and projections she didn't recognize.
Mia looked around and picked out O'Connell by her stripes. She was in a heavy discussion with the yardmaster and Marta Running-stream, the old civilian systems specialist who was now confined to a wheelchair because of some lingering after-effects of radiation exposure.
Cybernetic replacements have been in existence for two hundred years now but Marta would not consent to having them attached to her body. Even though these artificial limbs and organs have helped thousands of unfortunates shorn of their limbs, the Propulsion Research Commission's top engineer disdained them, and contented herself with getting around in her wheelchair.
Her frail form belied her inner strength. She was a full-blooded American Hopi Indian, and was fond of pointing that out. There weren't many around these days. And those who knew her felt she still had the strength and tenacity her people were reputed to have.
At the moment, she was exercising her ancestral gift for colorful language on the Commander and Yardmaster Collins.
"I believe it is idiotic," she was saying heatedly, "to just stop construction so that you can follow a set of silly blueprints. We're almost through. Isn't that enough?"
"Doctor, I - ,"
"With all due respect, Commander," Marta interrupted, "you gave Commander Collins complete authority over the refit. And I requested the Commander to allow a few changes to the design. He has so agreed."
"I am amenable to a few changes, doctor, but these," she gestured around her, "are hardly 'a few changes.' With the major adjustments that we have made to the timetable to be able to accommodate your 'few changes,' we're now behind schedule by a day. I'm sure that when Captain Steele arrives, she will be greatly less than pleased."
The clearing of a throat behind them made them all turn around. Marta smiled. "Speak of the devil," Marta said. "Here he is now. Hi, Bill. Dammit, Mia! I meant Mia!"
Mia leaned down and gave Marta an affectionate peck on the cheek. "Hello, Marta," Mia said. She turned to Commander Elizabeth O'Connell and smiled, acknowledging their salutes. "Hello, Commander. Glad to meet you at last." She extended her hand.
O'Connell shook her hand. "Good morning, Captain. My apologies for not being able to meet you earlier, as well as not being able to meet you as you came aboard." She gestured at the bay. "We are rather busy."
"So I see," Mia smiled. She gave O'Connell a fast appraisal. O'Connell was tall and willowy, still young - about her age, quite the opposite of the female line officers the academies turn out. Her face was fair, pretty, and was surrounded by a nimbus of ash-blonde, almost white hair. Her grip was strong and firm. And from the expression on her face, it was obvious that she took Mia’s presence with something less than delight.
Mia could sympathize with her. After all, who would want to have her command taken away from her? Mia knew that she was the outsider here, and decided to tread very carefully.
"Is there some difficulty?" she asked. O'Connell deferred to Marta.
"Not on the technical side, Bill... Mia," Marta said. "You can rest assured on that account. It's more of an administrative problem."
"A difference of opinion, really, Captain," O'Connell said. "Between us and the doctor."
"Well," Mia said, "if it's going to hold us up more, you'd better update me. We're behind schedule as it is."
"Well, the problem is - ," Marta started but was interrupted by O'Connell.
"The problem,” O'Connell said, “is what you see out there." She pointed through the temporary Crystalline barrier, to the torn hull of Seeker and the new engine section being jockeyed into position outside.
"The refit plan that my crew has been trying to implement for the past six months was a plan to convert the Seeker into an inter-system cruiser. The engine section was to be left mostly alone. Look at that thing."
"I see what you mean," Mia said, and turned to Marta. "Commander O'Connell makes perfect sense, Marta. What do you have to say?"
"On the contrary, Mia," Marta answered. "If the refit design was kept to the plans in the first place, then I guess the commander is correct.
"But the present situation is not that way anymore. The refit has been modified according to my specifications, and we're about ninety percent through. But if we suddenly turned around now and started doing it the way the commander wants it done, it will take twenty times as long as the time it would take to finish up construction the way it is."
Marta raised a hand against O'Connell’s rising protests. "Alright, alright, I freely admit that what I did was pretty dirty, tricking you and Commander Collins. But we do have an emergency on our hands. You can sue me later." Marta smiled feebly.
Mia paused for a moment and thought it over.
"Commander," she said finally, "I believe that the situation has quite tied up our hands, and anything we may decide here will be purely academic. It seems that there is only one course of action open to us now, and that is to continue the redesign. Laying blame on who is responsible now is futile, and is a waste of time best spent on other more important things. There will be time enough for that later."
O'Connell stood stiffly. "Is that to be taken as an order, sir?"
Mia raised an eyebrow. "If you like, you can, as Marta says, 'sue me later.'"
"Aye, sir." O'Connell saluted smartly and stiffly strode to the bridge.
Collins turned as if to follow but winced when he was called back.
"Commander," Mia called, "A word, if you please."
Collins reluctantly turned back. "Aye, sir," he said.
"How well is the construction going? I want to be brought up to date."
"As well as can be expected, sir," he answered. "Most of the major stuff's finished, like the doctor says. Except for the fixtures and fittings, and packing away everything, and so forth, only that," he said, "and the fighters are the only major things left."
He looked undecided for a moment and then pulled out a fat binder from under his arm. No time to beat around the bush, he thought. "The problem, sir, is that the redesign is so - how should I say it - so drastic, that half of the changes haven't been run through the ship's computer. In fact, the brain itself and all the cybernetic systems are new and still unfamiliar to the crew."
He slapped the binder in his hand. "If you find yourselves in a real pickle, a major blowout in the ship, you won't even know what to repair or replace, and if you did, odds are that the computer won't be able to help you at all."
He looked at Marta. "I'm not trying to be difficult, doctor, but I don't know how to do all that you're asking, and still stay on schedule. Half my crew is running around trying to figure out just what it is that they're supposed to be doing. Look."
Collins opened his binder. Notations and pencilled-in corrections and scribbling filled the margins, and most of the schematics themselves (the main reason Collins carried around the binder instead of a pad). "Just look at this. This is the plan for the coolant flow in the FTL modules we're interfacing with Seeker's old system. These charts are off the original specs of the FTL. But with that monstrosity," he pointed out the window, "we've had to redesign the whole thing as we go along.
"My people are the best, Captain, and Dr. Running-stream's assured me that she has the budget for it, and the Quartermaster's Office has a lot of spares. But we still need to have plans to work from."
Mia looked at him. "Any ideas how we can speed things up?" she asked.
Collins shook his head. "Sure, I do. Like I said, we need honest-to-goodness plans. With real blueprints I guarantee that we'll finish the thing in half the time. And if you can give us ten more systems specialists who can help us encode the changes into the on-board computer's database, we'll finish even faster."
Mia made a quick decision, and pulled out her comm-computer, a combination stylus screen, communicator and computer - standard equipment for the Navy - and thumbed the switch.
"Get me Triton Center Seventeen. Doctor Walter Thorpe," she said into the box, to a young lieutenant at the other end. After a short while, Walter's face came on the screen.
"Hello, Walter. Can't talk now. We have an emergency. Can you do me a favor?"
"Mia, I - ,"
"I need to borrow twenty cybernetics specialists familiar with the..."
"EDS-200," supplied Collins supplied.
"...the EDS-200 computer system. I think that's a bit related to the -361 we have in the base, so we have no problem there. Can you loan them to me?"
"Jesus, Mia, you know my hands are tied. I…"
"Don't quote me regulations, Walter. I wrote them in the first place. And I know I'm being unfair. But we're desperate. Can you help us?"
Walter stared at her for a moment and then said, "All right, Mia. I'll get twenty from the night shift people for you. I'll get them on the pad, but you better get them back to me within ten hours, okay? Otherwise, you talk to the union."
Mia nodded and smiled. "Walt, you're a life-saver. Thanks. I owe you one."
Walter smiled. "Don't think I'm not keeping count. Endit."
Mia got the lieutenant back and asked for O'Connell. "Send a shuttle to Triton Center Seventeen to pick up twenty civilians," Bill said to the commander, "right away."
"Aye, sir."
Mia switched off and turned back to Collins. "How long do you think it will take to finish up now, Commander?"
"Sir? About forty hours, sir."
"Commander, you now have ten."
"Sir!" Collins exclaimed indignantly.
"We’ll do the cleaning-up, commander. Just get the major stuff done. Those plans you spoke of - we'll get them to you within the hour. Marta, I'll need your help. Let's go to my quarters, wherever those might be."
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 12)
|
Commander Elizabeth O'Connell paced the bridge in irritation. "Lieutenant," she said, "prepare a troop carrier to pick up a party at Triton Seventeen. Inform the pilot that they'll be waiting on the pad."
"Aye, sir."
Damn her, she thought as she walked back and forth on the deck. Who does she think she is? Still she had to follow orders. To be fair, maybe the captain's under orders, too. But she still remembered Fleet Admiral Silverman's call that fateful day, and could remember each word verbatim, with anger and frustration.
"Captain," she recalled Silverman saying over the bridge's main screen, "first of all, I would like to apologize for what I am about to say. The Defense Council has decided, and there is nothing I can do about it.
"New orders will be transmitted to your ship, but I would like to tell you the main points of your new orders personally. One, you are to make for Neptune Outpost Three, and pick up a special consignment of cargo and technicians to help you in your current refit and shakedown. Two, you are then to set course for Phobos Orbital Station twenty-eight to rendezvous with cruisers Hermes and Constellation. Together with your ship, DSR Seeker, they will make up intercept fleet 41/18, whose mission is to intercept, possibly repel a hostile fleet of alien vessels which is on course for the Solar System. You will then proceed to Neptune Three. During the trip to Neptune, the special group of technicians that you will be picking up will perform further updates and modifications on your ship and all equipment on board.
"Upon docking, Seeker will undergo more modifications. Do not take offense, captain, but we would not have chosen the Seeker for this mission, which, we believe, is very much out of date. We would have preferred the new ships like the Constellation and Hermes, but you are the only other cruiser that is available and capable.
"It is for this reason that she will undergo drastic redesign and refit. Yardmaster Collins and some people from the Propulsion Research Commission will be ready for your arrival. It better be fast, captain. You will have very little time available."
Silverman seemed to hesitate. "Captain Amelia Steele is to take command of the intercept force. She’s a veteran of the Satellite Wars and an expert on the aliens. She will be there waiting, ready to take command of the intercept flag ship. That will be the Seeker."
O'Connell realized what was coming next.
"You will undergo temporary grade reduction to commander. You will be Seeker's first officer, and act as exec to Captain Steele."
She then remembered the shocked silence on the bridge.
"The specific details will accompany your orders, captain," Silverman said. "Questions?"
"Uh, none, sir," she had blurted.
"All right, then, transmitting your orders now. And I'm sorry, captain."
She remembered ordering a course change for the outpost, turning the con over to her exec, and walking out of the bridge.
She had taken it all on the chin then, and never complained. But if this upstart thinks she can order me and my ship around like this and expect me to sit still for it, she has something else coming. I'll show her, she thought. I'll show them all.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 13)
|
Finding Mia's cabin wasn't as difficult as they thought. She and Marta were pointed to the right direction by some helpful ratings. Many of them were out helping with the refit and, perhaps, waiting for a chance to get a look at the new captain. A good thing that the order came from Silverman himself. This crew could have mutinied.
Mia closed the door behind Marta and took a first look at her new quarters. It was formerly the quartermaster's cabin, who had to be bumped off to other less comfortable quarters. The bulkheads showed signs of recent work. New lockers were riveted to the wall and the comm set & computer terminals had been converted to a ship commander's set - with facilities to connect her to the bridge, to the main computer, to tap into the ship-wide intercom, and all the other facilities a captain might need.
Inside the bathroom, new fixtures replaced the old ones, and the lavatory and shower were converted to grav and non-grav ones. Inside the lockers hung new sets of uniforms with proper sizes and name tags, as well as her new pressure suit.
Since her suit was here, she assumed that the accompanying outer shell - her battle-armor suit - had also been brought in, and is probably down in the main airlock lockers. Mia could have hardly done with someone else's. Space suits and armor are always tailor-made to their users and, as expected, most spacers become attached to their suits.
She dropped her attaché case on the bed and sat on the edge facing Marta.
"All right, Marta," she said. "Now you are going to tell me what the hell you've been up to."
Marta rolled her chair up against the wall facing Mia. "Okay, Mia," she said, "or can I still call you Bill?" She looked Mia up and down, smiling. "I have to say, you really look good as a girl. To darn tall, though." She leaned down and whispered mock-conspiratorially, "does everything, you know, work?"
Mia held in her laughter, although just barely, and tried to look at her old friend with her most stern look.
Marta made a patting gesture. "All right, all right. Simmer down. I know what I did was wrong."
"Will you tell me why you did it?"
"It's very simple, really. Okay, let's start from the beginning. You know what's been happening at the PRC, don't you?" she said, referring to the Propulsion Research Commission.
"I've heard you've been having some words with the other commissioners," Mia answered. "Budget appropriations, I take it?"
"Well, partly yes. You must be familiar with the basic FTL engine design by now. We got the design ideas from your Phase-Wave intercepts, as you know. It's been a bit like trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle. A clue here, a hint there. After a while, we got a fairly complete picture of how their engines work, and we've been able to improve on it by a great deal with our own FTL.
"The principle of the Earth FTL engine was similar to the Elyran drive concept. In the Elyran drive, artificial gravity generators set up a constantly increasing gravity field at the rear of the ship, propelling it at a constantly increasing speed in the opposite direction of the gravity waves. There were, however, several practical problems."
Mia knew about those problems. The main one was that constant increase in velocity meant a constant increase in gravity. In a short time, the passengers as well as the ship would be smashed flat. The same problems existed on deceleration. Half of the travel time would have to be taken up by deceleration as the field is reversed, and still the ship would be smashed, but this time in the opposite direction.
And once light speeds were reached, there would also be problems with time dilation and the safe passage of the ship through space. Hyper-space was a strange universe where seemingly impossible things came into being, where tachyons and other invisible particles became deadly physical dangers, where X-ray stars and neutron stars become visible, and where dark holes in space became real dangers. And where spacecraft often vanish without a trace.
The Elyrans handled this by totally cocooning their ships in a separate bubble of gravity. The bubble maintains a constant non-variable gravity field for the passengers. They also extend a force field of sufficient strength hundreds of thousands of kilometers in front of them to stop or deflect cosmic debris which may cause damage to the ship.
The good thing about it is that these generators, which the PRC engineers copied, produce an isolating effect within the field, isolating them from the effects of the field itself, and the warped space it generates around it. It therefore transports the ship and its occupants encased in their own unchanged relativistic space and time, and thereby keep their relative time in the same constant rate as when they started their journey. The upshot of it is that there is no problem with time dilation. But, it makes the time it takes to travel a variable one.
Earth's own FTL system incorporates all these principles but with key differences that bring them to unparalleled efficiency. For example. instead of creating a separate field to oppose the main field's effects, the Earth system extends the main field over the entire ship, including the other smaller gravity field, so that it doesn't take that much power to maintain a down-is-down orientation for the occupants, and to maintain relativistic equilibrium.
Earthpeople have known of artificial gravity for some time and, with the knowledge gleaned from Phase-Wave intercepts, they have made gravity manipulation more efficient: As well as creating it, new devices attached to Earth generators are now able to absorb inertial energy and turn it to radiant energy. Deceleration is no longer necessary. Travel time was therefore cut in half.
And, with their expertise in computer technology and the use of Phase-Wave, Earth interstellar navigation technology was now more than a few generations ahead of the Federation. Plus, with their expertise in planetary engineering, energy generation and synthetic-food production, they were more than equal to their extraterrestrial counterparts.
"I know," Mia said, continuing their conversation, "that you've made enormous strides in your research. Just the same, what has that got to do with our present problem?"
"Well, you know that the Commission's been pressured to settle down on a final design. That's the FTL system. I and a few of the other commissioners have, however, argued that the FTL could be improved. Of course, the other commissioners voted that down. Too much money and too little time, they said. Even our sit-down strike didn't change the situation. That was why we were at Outpost Three, you know."
Mia tapped her fingers on the metal bedside table impatiently.
"I still don't get it," she said.
"Don't you see, Mia?" Marta said. "The Fleet's done. No way out of that, now. Like Hermes and Constellation and their sister ships, all the others will be carrying FTL engines. But when the Navy approached us to refit the Seeker, we thought of it as our chance. They only wanted a sub-light cruiser but we're going to give them something more." Marta's eyes winkled. "By the time we finish with her, she's gonna be the fastest ship in the galaxy.
Mia thought it over a moment. "Does the Defense Council know what you're doing?" she asked.
"Are you kidding? Do you think they would let me do it if they knew?"
A slow smile spread across Mia's new face.
"Okay, Marta," she said. "Let's do it. If only to bug the Navy."
They both laughed, and soon they were into a deep discussion about the redesign.
Almost twenty-four hours had passed - fourteen hours beyond Mia’s self-imposed ten-hour deadline - when Mia followed the shuttle containing Marta and her borrowed systems specialists back to Triton Seventeen with satisfied eyes. Walter was fairly screaming then. But never mind. The job was done, and Walter would forgive her in time.
She, Marta and the crew of Seeker had done the job. She was still a sub-light, but when they got all the subsystems up and running, she'd be the fastest ship in the Fleet. There'll be time enough for that during the months it would take to reach the rendezvous point.
"Time?" she asked Commander O'Connell.
"Seventy-two hours behind schedule, in total," she frowned.
"Then we'd better set for departure. Helmsman, all moorings away. Fire all maneuvering thrusters and get us to free space."
"Aye-aye, sir." The helmsman started flicking switches and grabbed the steering controls.
Thrusters fired and he eased the sleek battle cruiser out of its docking bay collar. The huge internal flywheels, common to old battlewagons like Seeker, spun and balanced the ship as it turned.
"Free and clear, sir," the helmsman said.
"Good. Synchronize with Hermes, Constellation, punch in our course, and engines at optimum."
"Aye. Course laid in and engines powering up. Ship starting acceleration."
"Steady as she goes."
"Steady as she goes, aye-aye."
They were finally on their way.
Shepherd Moon, Chapter 8: When It Rains, It Pours
Tasha looked at the Plot computer, and stared at a group of dots moving across the screen.
"What are they?" she asked the pilot-navigator.
"Detterex and Tirosian vermin, my lady," the pilot answered. "We have been tracking them ever since we crossed the Federation boundary, but it is only now that we have become sure of them. We thought that they were just interference, but as we went into deceleration, the picture has become clear. They are Empire spacecraft, beyond a doubt."
Tasha nodded slowly.
The bridge's access tube dilated and Ren stepped out. Tasha turned and gave him a brief smile. Ren came over and stood by her.
"There are further problems, my lady," Reena was saying.
"Continue, Pilot."
"My lady, Astrogation says that, according to their calculations, the enemy will be emerging into sub-light at approximately the same area and time that we will. Obviously, they plan to intercept us."
Tasha thought awhile. "Their spies are very good," she was saying to herself. "We must keep tighter security at the palace." She looked up from the Plot screen. "When do we become ship-maneuverable, Pilot?"
"In a short while, my lady. I cannot be exact as to the time. The Chief Engineer says that the drive fields are fluctuating because of the long trip."
"Ship-maneuverability" was the term they use when a spacecraft’s speed was low enough that relativity effects disappear; when the ship becomes maneuverable again and course changes can be made. It was also when short-to-medium range navigation systems start working, and EVAs become possible again.
Tasha nodded and thumbed a switch. "Wing Marshal," she said, and an aged warrior came on the screen.
"Yes, my princess," she said as she brushed silver-streaked hair from her eyes.
"We are emerging from light-speed soon, Marshal. Make sure your pilots are prepared for launching."
"Yes, my princess. All will be in readiness."
Tasha turned to her bridge crew. "Prepare all batteries and issue sidearms to all hands. And prepare my personal ship. I shall be leading the attack wing myself."
Ren gasped and reached for her. She batted his hand away irritatedly. Tasha turned to the pilot.
"Send a signal to our other ships as we become ship-maneuverable, and have them make similar preparations."
"Yes, my lady."
Ren was pulling on her sleeve. "Tasha, no. Let them do the fighting. It is improper for- ,"
"Ren!" she cried, and turned to look at everyone. The bridge personnel were looking away, embarrassed. Even the pilot was pretending to study the Plot screen.
She turned back to Reena. "I shall be in my quarters, Pilot. Inform me of any new developments."
"Yes, my lady."
She turned to Ren. "Husband! Attend." They left the bridge in silence.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 14)
|
As she turned to lock the door to their quarters, she said, "Do not do that again." She unhooked her belt and dress-sword and threw them into a corner.
"Tasha- ," Ren said.
"You will not embarrass me again," Tasha said. "Ever."
"Tasha," Ren said again, pleading.
"I took you along with the understanding that you will not make a nuisance of yourself. I told you that there may be fighting. And you agreed."
Ren bowed his head, almost sobbing. "Yes, my princess. I will remember."
Tasha looked at his stricken form, and her anger softened. "No, my dearest," she said as she took him into her arms. "Do not cry. I understand. But you know I must do this. I must. A princess of the blood cannot do otherwise."
"I know, I know," Ren said, crying, "But I am afraid."
"Hush, my dearest."
Ren pulled back and wiped his tears. "Ever since our marriage, when I surrendered my being to you in the Eternal Bond, I have given up any hope of living if ever you should be taken away from me." He looked into her eyes, those beautiful ruby eyes that he loved so much. "Please do not do this."
A little of Tasha's anger returned, and her arms around Ren tightened slightly.
"It is good that you remember the Bond that is between us," she said. "Do not force me, Ren."
"I won't." Ren kissed her softly on the lips. He smiled shyly, looking into her eyes. "Tasha? Do you want to? Tonight?"
Tasha smiled and slowly started to undo the jeweled buttons of his shirt. She leaned down, rubbed her cheek against the fine hairs on his chest, and allowed him to lead her to the bed.
She opened the psychic link between them, and was answered by a wave of passion. She swooned with the intensity of it.
The Elyran Rites of Marriage were very old ones, so shrouded in antiquity and thousands of generations of Elyran custom, that none could find the beginnings of the Rites. Part of the Rites was the Consummation of the Bond, where psychic links are opened and hold the couple together, stronger than any physical chain ever could.
The Bond teaches emotional dependence of one to the other, for the physical and emotional closeness is so intense that, often times, one cannot live without her partner. That's why warriors were forbidden to marry until they retired. Royalty were exempted, of course.
In the Bond, the more dominant of the two is called the "bridge," and this is usually the female partner. It was probably because of this that Elyran society is female-dominated, though with the arrival of the Great Teacher (some priestesses would call her the Messiah), Elyran civilization slowly moved away from such bigotry.
The "bridge" is often able to extend her complete control over her partner, but to do so would greatly traumatize him, often sending him into insanity or suicidal shame. The degree of trauma was often as strong as the depth of the psychic hold of the "bridge."
Tasha was so deep into Ren's soul that she never held him so strongly to her will, for it would surely mean his death.
Yet Ren was one of the few - a male "bridge." Male bridges were considered rare, and their favors were fiercely competed for. But Ren was also handsome and intelligent, and a prince of the blood. Many of the royal family made a bid for him, including the princess Mara Dorian-Kerr, but it was Tasha, a playmate and friend from his childhood days that he picked. If he were to be given away, he thought, it might as well be to her as anyone’s. It is for this that the aging feud between the Northern Kingdom and the Great Plains was given a new cause for dispute.
On the day of the Consummation of the Bond, as Ren opened his psychic gates to Tasha, for the first time in his life Ren felt a power stronger than his: a bridge stronger than him. Tasha tore his barriers down like flimsy pieces of tissue, and he was laid bare to her like an open book.
For him, as well as for her, it was the beginning of a voyage of discovery. Before her, he never knew how it was to be one, truly be one, with another. And he knew that it could only be this way with Tasha. What was conceived of as a marriage of convenience became a true one. And what he thought of as just a playmate of his youth, he now saw with different eyes.
True, the dangers of the Bond to the partner were many, but so were there many dangers to the bridge.
The Bond could only be broken by the death of one, and a partner's death is more traumatic for the bridge than it could ever be for the other. It was akin to having a part of her soul torn from her. And the intensity of the pain is as strong as the depth of the link, and Tasha and Ren's Bond were as strong as any in the royal family. The only way to endure the pain would be to open a bond with another. Any Bond with any other. Though the results of such a union were often thought of as a perversity.
Tasha and Ren's excitement increased as they undressed each other, their fingers scrambling to undo buttons, and, as they lay naked, Tasha completed the link.
The opening of a link often brought with it sexual excitement, the link amplifying every sensation to an unparalleled peak. Any other form of sex would pale in comparison. This is also one of the reasons why Elyrans were always monogamous in their amorous liaisons.
Tasha reached for Ren with her feelings, and was answered with his own fiery passions. As she took Ren in the old, ancient way, and the waves of sensual fire spiraled upward and upward, Ren cried out and gushed into her. And as they both reached their peaks in ecstasy, she smiled inwardly, to know that only she, she alone, could bring Ren to this most intense of pleasures.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 15)
|
The crew made way for him, as Lord Norga strode along the Defiant's corridors. Being a Detterex, Norga looked much like an Elyran, though of course larger and taller than any Elyran ever could be. Solid-black eyes glared at passing crewpeople and his three-fingered hand gripped his dress-sword, as if he was about to cut them down.
Though he was not of the royal blood, he was given the privileges of royalty. For he was mate to the princess, Lady Arvan, and that explained much.
Princess Arvan, the heiress to the most powerful family of the royal Detterex clan, ruled with an iron hand. Most of those around her on the bridge gave her a wide berth, and spoke most softly and carefully, for her subjects feared her.
Like most Detterex royalty, she was brutal, domineering and ruthless, secure in the knowledge of her royal birthright. This also extended to her close personal relationships. She had gone through seven partners and was as ruthless with them as with anyone else. All seven came out insane, their Bonds with the princess almost tearing up their psyches. To be linked with her was akin to torture, no rape as fundamental as the power she held over her mates. Each one succumbed to insanity after only a short time.
But it was different with her eighth mate.
Arvan saw Norga in one of her slaver pits on Detterex, and was struck with his physical beauty. Norga was tall, taller than Arvan, his muscular body developed by years of laboring under harsh masters. Though his body bore the marks of his years as a slave, he still retained the craggy good features he inherited from his father, a highly-regarded slave breeder. He still retained his teeth and nose, and his solid-black eyes remained unclouded.
Arvan took him in, never once considering that the slave could perhaps overpower her in the Bond. She was, after all, unquestionably the bridge with her seven mates. But, when she opened the gates between her and her new "husband," she was assaulted by the sheer raw power of a native bridge. Though her psyche was strong, his was stronger. It was too late to back out then, and it was too late now. She felt the debasement and humiliation she had forced upon her previous husbands. She despised herself for her dependency on her lover, but she could not help herself. No drug could be as addictive as this. She yearned for the insanity that had claimed her other lovers, but Norga was very careful to avoid such an ending, and kept her on a knife-edge of sanity and insanity.
She turned when she heard the bridge tube dilate open. She had to force herself from rushing to her lover, and blushed with shame.
Norga stood beside her and held her hand, as was the right of a mate. "T'chahn, my lady," he said with all but a sneer.
"T'chahn, my love. I see the day has found you well."
"And you." He turned away to look at the Plot screen. "Are there any further developments?"
The pilot-navigator came up. "Yes, my lord. Our initial estimates were correct. We are just coming out of hyper-space and we will be ship-maneuverable in half an hour, but it is only now that we are getting anything definite from Plot. We are now in the outskirts of the Earth system, as are the Federation ships. But we will be a few minutes ahead of them before reaching ship-maneuverable speeds."
"That is unexpected good news. Signal the other ships to launch attack craft as soon as conditions will allow. We will ambush them. And even if they tumble to our plans and put up a fight, we will decimate them."
"I have already given such an order, my lord."
Norga's eyes narrowed to slits. "You have, eh?" His hand jumped to his sword. "Are you trying to make a fool of me, Pilot?"
"No, my lord. I merely said- ,"
Norga's swinging sword-blade cut her throat in mid-sentence. Pink blood splattered on the navigation console. The pilot's expression seemed to say that she couldn't believe it. Her body toppled to the deck, slowly dying as blood spurted from her.
"Norga!" Arvan exclaimed, bending, trying to catch the falling body, but she was too late. She clenched her fists in anger.
"You should not have done that," she said in deadly monotone.
The other people on the bridge stared. Norga felt a vestige of fear. She had not spoken that way to me before, he thought. Unconsciously, he stepped back. He tried to sound unaffected. "I should not?" he asked sarcastically, only a fraction of uncertainty creeping into his voice.
Arvan stood slowly. She glared at her mate. Norga stood uncertainly. What is happening, he thought.
Arvan still stood there glaring at him. He saw with his peripheral vision her hand clenching on her sword-hilt. By the Gods, he thought, she's going to kill me.
But Arvan slowly unclenched her hand and hid her face.
"No, of course not," she said. She was ashamed of her weakness and yearned to die.
Norga breathed a sigh of relief. "Prepare our ships," he said.
"Of course," the princess said, and turned away to leave.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 16)
|
O'Connell paced the bridge of the Seeker, waiting for something to happen. Anything at all. She was looking at the main screen, which was trained on Mia as she worked down inside the ship. She envied her. At least she had something to do.
She looked at Mia as she labored along with the officers and enlisted personnel. Two months was not a long enough time for a captain to get to know a crew, nor for two hundred and eighty-six men and women to get to know their new captain. Yet there she was. Mia presently had her tunic off and was talking to one of the midshipmen as they both wrestled a square tank into its slot. He smiled shyly at a joke that Mia made.
Perhaps it was the large amount of time that she spent among the crew, and the lectures that she regularly gave that made the crew feel at home with her. In fact, most of the first attendees came out of curiosity. But, as they got to know their new captain, and as more and more attended her lectures, it, as well as she, just became another part of shipboard life.
The Seeker and her crew had seen more work in the past months than they had seen in a while. Everyone had done their share of work. Even O'Connell had helped carry and clean up. She had come to think of her time on the bridge more as a rest period than as a duty station.
But the ship was showing signs of their hard work. Everything was shipshape now, and back in their places again. Her Shrike fighters and Mud Turtle personnel and assault carriers were reassembled, and, if O'Connell could believe the chief engineer, they were better than ever.
Collins and his people were as good as their word, and everything was working again, though the engines were still running in sub-light. She remembered her visit to the Engine Room and her surprise when she saw from the various newly-calibrated indicators that engine power output was only at five percent.
Captain Steele had said that only a few cables and circuits needed to be connected, and they could have FTL anytime they needed it. That was the very first thing that she looked into. Only thing to do now was try out the new engines.
"Commander," her communications officer called. "I'm getting something from the Empire fleet. A radio signal."
"You are? Translate immediately, and call the captain to the bridge."
He nodded and turned back to his console. "Captain Steele to the bridge. Captain Steele to the bridge, please."
On the screen, she saw Mia turn and walk out of the picture.
"Navigator," she said, "let's see exactly where they are."
The navigator threw up a picture of their sector of space. Two blinking dots were moving slower and slower, and slowly converging.
Mia came in, just putting on her tunic.
"Yes, Commander? Anything new?"
"Aye, sir. We've just picked up something by Phase-Wave. It's coming from the Empire ships."
"Have you translated it?"
The communications officer turned. "Doing that now, sir."
"What's it say?"
The communications officer held a phone to his ear. "It says, 'Coming out of light-speed, and ship-maneuverable in eight and three-eights minutes. Prepare to launch attack according to plan as soon as able. By order of Princess Arvan.' A similar message in Tirosian is being broadcast from the leading Tirosian ship."
"Princess Arvan. Hmm. That tells us a lot. When do we reach the two fleets?"
"Twenty-three minutes, present course and speed."
"Not good enough. Helmsman, increase engine power to ten percent. Commander, prepare Shrike squadron for launch and arm all weaponry. Lieutenant, Inform the Hermes and Constellation to do likewise."
"Aye, sir."
"Now," she said as she reclined in her command seat, "we wait."
Shepherd Moon, Chapter 9: So, what IS an Earther?
On the Defiant, activities had reached a fever pitch. They had just reached ship-maneuverable speed, where the Defiant could now maneuver and fire her weapons, and allow Arvan to launch her fightercraft.
She, as well as the other ships in her fleet fired their braking thrusters and turned to face the coming Federation ships. All twenty-two ships were now at a relative standstill. At Arvan's signal, Defiant and her sister ships launched their single-seat fighters. The small, tubular ships streaked out of the sides of their mother craft, chemical fire and burning hydrogen spewing out of their exhausts, and arranged themselves into ragged formation.
Soon, the nine Federation ships slammed into their space. Ship-maneuverability status suddenly cleared up their tracking systems, and they saw the battleships in their path. Some started reversing fields and firing braking thrusters. Others turned and tried to avoid the wall of ships. But the others were too late in reacting. Though the two fleets were a good thousand clicks away from each other, considering starship velocities, such distances were practically zero. They couldn't reduce their momentum and velocity sufficiently, and slammed into the blockade.
Two of the Elyran battleships couldn't turn fast enough and collided with one of Arvan's tanker-carriers. As large holding tanks ruptured, the volatile hydrogen inside spilled out as snowflakes. Some mixed with the hot gases liberated by the collision and exploded, starting a chain reaction and turning the three ships into a glowing fireball.
The other cruisers were far enough away to avoid major damage, but many of the small Detterex fighters were caught like moths in a fire. The others scattered like angry bees escaping from their hive.
The Dixx cruisers were the first to take action, launching their own fighters, energy weapons flashing their deadly streams of light, but it was very clear that they were outnumbered.
The three remaining Elyran ships veered away and passed the line of cruisers, trying to avoid confrontation as yet: Tasha and her commanders were not expecting this.
The two Arachnian ships responded sluggishly to the command of their pilots, and continued on through the line of Empire ships. Detterex fighters slammed into their hulls, creating momentary glowing balls of fire on their surfaces. Sections of the ships automatically started sealing themselves. Fire control teams inside rushed to trouble spots even as the air that fed the blazes whistled out into space.
Arvan and her people took advantage of the opportunity and launched missiles at the Federation ships. The Dixx ships were able to repulse the deadly rockets but Talon and her retreating ships were hit.
Talon and Blazing Star took hits at their stern, the missiles luckily missing much of their engine sections, but the other Elyran ship took one right through the middle - a warhead of one of the large missiles was hit by a lucky shot from one of the Star's gunners, and had exploded before hitting the other cruiser. What was left of the missile's engine section slammed into her hull. The ship appeared to bend slightly as it reeled from the impact. Its pilot sent the ship rolling to avoid colliding with Talon, and drifted away.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 17)
|
Mia looked at the screen with worried eyes. "Good God," she said.
"Can't we do anything?" the navigator asked as the whole bridge crew looked at the long-range projection on the main screen.
Mia looked on, making up her mind. "Probably," she said. In sudden decision, she punched the line for the shuttle bay. "Air Wing Commander," she called, and Seeker's CAG answered.
"Aye, sir."
"Are your fighters ready for launching?"
"Aye, sir. We've been standing by for a while, now."
"Good. Prepare to launch."
There was a slight pause.
"Sir? Shouldn't we wait for ship-maneuverable?"
"No, Commander, we will not. We'll launch as is. In fact, I'll have to bring up our power to reach them in time. We'll have to launch while under power. Helmsman, push it to fifteen percent. Steady as she goes."
"Aye, sir. Bringing her up to fifteen percent. Reaching point five C."
Mia turned back to CAG. "Leave one of the ships for me, Commander. I'll be joining you. Make sure my ship has a radio transmitter." She turned to O'Connell. "Commander, O'Connell, go to red alert. You have the con." Mia was already walking to the lift as horns started hooting around her and flashing red lights replaced the ship's regular lights.
Mia had already changed into her pressure suit, a rebreather pack on her back. She was wriggling into the battle armor that went over the suit when she heard someone call.
"Turn around, and I'll check you," O'Connell said.
Mia turned around and let her snap the latches on the back.
"That was an order I gave you, Commander," Mia said.
"Want to save it for later and tell me what's this crap about you going out?"
Mia shrugged. "I'm going out. It's that simple."
"The fighters may just explode as soon as they leave Seeker's gravity field, you along with them."
Mia smiled tightly. "I know. That's why I'm going."
O'Connell crossed her arms over her breasts. "I can't let you do that."
Mia whirled on her. "What would you like me to do?" she said tightly. "Those ships are getting a beating out there. If we don't do something, they'll all die."
O'Connell shrugged. "We can wait for ship-maneuverable. Besides, it's not our fight."
"We don't have time for this." She snapped on her flight helmet and started walking over to the Shrike fighter that was assigned to her. "And you're wrong. It is our fight."
O'Connell walked with her. "Listen. This is crazy. These fighters aren't even tested yet, let alone tested above ship-maneuverable. I can't let you."
Mia was getting into the cockpit. "You don't have any choice in the matter. Mind the ship, Number One. That's an order." She snapped down her visor, ending further conversation.
"You're not qualified!" she yelled. Mia closed the cockpit.
The rest of the pilots were ready, and Air Wing Commander Kajima was making the circular gesture to start spinning the deck.
O'Connell shook her head in frustration. The whole deck started to rotate, depressurization warnings echoing in the bay. O'Connell started walking out of the deck.
Seeker's shuttle bay was of an old design from a time when small underpowered ships needed a boost even before firing their rockets. Large counterweighted flywheels spun the whole flight deck at enormous speeds; centrifugal force flinging her ships out into space at speeds that would have taken regular ships a while to attain on their own, though, with Seeker's refurbished fighters, this wasn't needed anymore.
Mia and Seeker's fighter pilots felt their suits tug at the straps that held them down to their seats. They had the sensation of falling away from the ship as the bay spun them around and around.
When the large flywheels under the deck reached optimum speed, their fighter ships were released from their bays one by one. Two lines of the sleek Shrike fighter planes flashed out of Seeker's bays forming a line of fighters streaming out from either side of the ship, just above her two wings.
Mia was slammed back into her seat when her turn came. Just before clearing the shuttle bay tunnel, her ship’s own internal gravity field automatically kicked on. It had to be that way to avoid her field from nullifying the centrifugal catapult effect, and to avoid being crushed as she left Seeker's protective bubble of gravity. One of the reasons to wait for Ship-maneuverable.
Mia felt the slight difference as her fighter's environmental systems stabilized. She kicked on her engines, and a soft blue glow radiated out of the rear. All of Seeker's Shrike fighters now had miniature versions of her FTL drive that, although the miniscule fields generated could not push them into anything approaching light-speed, they made them (or at least they were supposed to make them) a hell of a lot faster and maneuverable than other comparable ships.
She heard Air Wing Commander Kajima in her helmet speaker.
"Wing Leader to Strike Leader, Wing Leader to Strike Leader. All planes accounted for, Captain. What's our heading?"
"Straight ahead, Commander. Until we hit them. And no firing unless fired upon. Acknowledge."
"Acknowledged, aye. A-team with me. B-team, with the captain. Go into full power, and let's hope for the best."
Seeker's squadron of fighters leapt as if kicked, and pulled away from their mother ship. The soft blue light of their engines turned into a brighter blue and they flashed towards the fray at better than half the speed of light.
Mia clicked a tongue switch. "Strike leader to Seeker. Commander, are you listening?"
"Aye, sir," O'Connell answered.
"Wait for Hermes and Constellation before you do anything else. Have them launch their fighters as soon as you rendezvous, and follow on ahead. You are ordered to hold your fire, Commander. Do not fire unless fired upon. Got that?"
"Aye, sir. Acknowledged. How are the fighters holding up?"
"They seem to be doing okay. No problems yet. Don't worry. We'll keep our eyes on it."
"Aye, sir."
After a while, Kajima's tracking computer started beeping for attention. "Seems like we're coming up on them. What now, Captain?"
"Move on to the Elyran ships. They're closer. Have your team tackle the bastards that's on the left ship. We'll take the ones on the right."
The Terran squadron split into two and raced to the stricken cruisers. Each ship emitted a bright blue flash of light from their front projectors, and in a split second, converted their inertial energy into light. They cut their speed to just below six hundred meters per second as they sped toward the alien fleet.
Talon and Blazing Star fired their weapons at the angry gnats that swarmed around them. The other ship was virtually ignored and seemed to be, for all intents and purposes, dead.
As the Detterex planes circled the two ships, and as sixteen Empire cutters moved in looking for a chink in their defensive armor, the Earth planes streaked in and sneaked up on them from behind.
Their unexpected arrival broke up their formation and scattered the small ships. One of them fired on A-team, and one of the Shrike fighters exploded in a gout of yellow fire.
"Shit," one of the pilots exclaimed. "That's Peebo. Goddamn."
"Seeker squadron," Mia shouted. "Fire at will!"
The Terran pilots released their already itchy trigger fingers. The burning Shrike fighter triggered a hail of pulsing fire from the others and annihilated seven of the Empire fighters.
Mia swung her ship to follow the remaining Empire fighters and thumbed a button on her control panel.
"Attention Elyran spacecraft," Mia said over a conventional radio frequency, in fluent Elyran, "attention Elyran spacecraft. This is Captain Steele from the Earth battleship Seeker. We are coming in to help you. Do not fire on our ships. We are friendly craft, repeat - we are friendly ships. Hold your fire."
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 18)
|
Before their weapons could be brought to bear on the newcomers, Tasha's communications officer let out a surprised yell.
"Hold your fire," she shouted. "Those are Earth ships! Pilot, they are Earth ships."
Reena whirled and hit a button on her control panel.
"Princess! Did you hear that? They are Earth ships. They've come to help us."
Tasha looked up from her control panel. She, like the other fighter pilots, was trapped in her fighter plane, unable to take off.
"What? Earth... But, where, Pilot. Where did they come from?"
"I do not know, my lady. Still, the Earthers have drawn away the Empire vermin for the moment. We can launch our fighters now."
"Good. Launch immediately, Pilot."
Tasha and the others braced themselves. Powerful hydraulic rams literally kicked them from behind and hurled them out into space.
Tasha ignited her engines and she could feel the dull thrumming of the rockets. She whipped her ship around, but it took the small craft a few moments to counter its momentum.
A beeping from her panel warned her of an oncoming missile. She craned her head as she looked through the tinted canopy of her cockpit. There! A missile coming straight for her.
She fired attitude rockets to bring her guns to bear, laboriously pointing the entire ship toward the deadly projectile. She depressed the firing button, and a long finger of green light struck the missile. Her ship was buffeted by flying metal as she looked at a radiation gauge. Good. Non-nuclear.
She switched her screen to long-distance and could see the Earthers pursuing the enemy ships. She longed for one of the enemy ships to drift closer to her, but the battle was moving away. She increased her rocket-power and went after them.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 19)
|
Mia was chasing one of the Empire ships. Their rockets left trailing lights that could easily be picked out. Her ship was fast pulling up near her quarry, and she let a fusillade of pulsing rays pepper the enemy.
The Empire ship violently swerved right and up, as its upper left tank ejected its hydrogen in a glowing finger of flame. The pilot's ears bled from the loud explosive crack that resounded through her cockpit. She finally wrested control of her ship and brought it out of its wild tumble, but her eyes widened as she saw Mia's fighter barrelling towards her. What was left of her craft exploded in a hail of pulsing red bolts of energy.
Mia passed the still-burning Empire ship by and headed back to the Elyran cruiser. By their silhouettes, these fighters have to be Detterex. Where are the Tirosians? Mia thought.
But the Empire battleships were presently engaged with the other four Federation ships. As the two Arachnian cruisers plowed into them, unable to check their momentum, the Empire ships let loose everything they had. It was clearly an unequal battle, and the two ships were left battered and lifeless, surrounded by a cloud of radioactive debris, the result of a near-miss.
But the armored survival pod inside one of the ships survived. They had shut off all external sources of power and the Empire ships took her for dead.
The Empire ships turned their attention towards the other Federation ships, the two Dixx cruisers, but the Dixx were prepared for them.
The smaller Tirosian cruisers pulled back and let the Detterex ships head the attack. Three of the lumbering Detterex cruisers were caught in the outer nimbus of an exploding nuclear missile, and were effectively taken out of the fight: With their shields down, everyone inside the ships were cooked alive.
Tirosian single-seat fighters launched from behind the Detterex lines and joined the fray. The Detterex fighters were being cut down one by one by the fierce pilots of the Dixx squadrons. As the Tirosians joined their Detterex allies, the Dixx fighters moved back to regroup.
The Empire squadrons fired their guns simultaneously at a spot on the nearest Dixx cruiser's hull. A ball of glowing gas erupted from the rear of the bridge section, and the flame inched closer and closer to the bridge as the fighters adjusted their sights.
The Dixx fighters turned on the Empire planes and let loose their own barrage. The Empire ships broke up and scattered to avoid laser fire, stopping the concentrated onslaught to the cruiser, and the Dixx took them on one-on-one.
But it was a losing battle. Despite great losses on the Detterex planes, it was still a twenty-to-one ratio against the Federation fighters.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 20)
|
Mia and her pilots were cutting down the enemy fighters harassing the two Elyran cruisers at an ever increasing rate. These planes are incredibly slow, she thought. Our Shrike fighters could run rings around the Detterex planes without even trying. The alien ships seemed to be driven by conventional rockets and fused hydrogen drives. Understandable. That's probably why they needed those fuel carriers, she thought.
She saw the coming Elyran fighters, and sighed in relief.
"B-team," she said into her helmet mike, "Incoming friendly ships. Repeat, incoming planes. The Elyrans are here. Hold your fire." She switched on her special radio set. "Elyran Commander, Elyran Commander, acknowledge," she said in fluent Elyran.
Her helmet speaker crackled. "T'chahn, Earther. I am Princess Tasha Liaran-Kerr. I acknowledge for my Elyran comrades. I would like to thank you for..."
"Apologies for interrupting, my lady," Mia said, "but there's an emergency. The other cruisers in your fleet are taking a hard beating. We are going over to help. Can you take over for us here?"
Tasha frowned at the ill manners of this Earther. And it was a woman, from the voice.
"Rest assured, warrior. My pilots can handle the few dregs that you left us. But let some of my fighters join you..."
"If you wish, my lady. Out."
"By the prophets," Tasha heard one of the pilots mutter. "Who does she think she is, the impertinent..."
"Quiet, pilot," Tasha said. "They are, after all, aliens. Learn to make allowances. Wing Marshal, acknowledge."
"Yes, my princess. I am listening."
"Have your wing join the Earthers. We will help our other cruisers."
"Yes, my princess." A handful of Elyran fighters whirled to join the Earth planes as they went to go to the aid of the remainder of the Federation ships. The battle was almost won here.
Tasha fired her rockets and turned her ship to follow the Earthers, her two escort ships trailing her.
As they flashed towards the Empire ships, she had a chance to look over the Earth fighters. She saw the sleek streamlined bodies of the Shrike planes, their sharp beaks and angled wings, very reminiscent of the birds from her home world, very different from her own ship's tubular construction. And the curious glow their engines made. Almost like Talon's gravity drive, except they were blue instead of red.
Even as the Elyran ships got up to full power, the Earth fighters pulled away from them. Tasha fired all her boosters even as her navigational computer beeped a warning. Her fighter had reached speeds where the engines could not assure safe maneuvering. She switched off the insistent alarm and braced herself as she was pushed back into her seat and the thrum of her engines increased in pitch.
Her ship recovered some lost ground, but the Earth fighters continued to pull away from them. Damn. She moved to increase her power, but saw her fuel indicator. Better conserve fuel and be sure of getting back to the Talon.
"Wing Marshal," she said.
"Yes, my princess."
"Bring your ships to half-power. Conserve fuel."
"My princess, the Earthers are pulling away. They are leaving us behind."
"Yes, Marshal. But we have to conserve our hydrogen to be sure of a safe return to Talon."
Her wing marshal sighed. "You are correct, my princess. Acknowledged."
An urgent message came in over Tasha's helmet speakers. "Princess," Talon's communications officer said through the ever-present radio hash of space, "Boarders! We have boarders invading Talon!"
Tasha's thoughts flew to Ren. But she had a job to do. "Tell Reena to handle it as best she can, officer. We will be returning soon."
She shook her head and resolutely kept her ship on course.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 21)
|
Arvan watched impotently as she listened in on her fighters' communications. She longed to be there, but Norga had forbidden it.
She had been shocked to hear that the bulk of her fighters near the Elyran cruisers were being decimated by the surprise arrival of the Earth fighters. From what she gathered from her pilots' radio signals, it was only a handful of planes, three eights and one, that was killing her warriors. But she didn't pull them out. She, not to mention her warriors, would lose great face. None of them wanted to retreat.
She turned her attention to the other fighters. At last the Tiros fighters had joined her planes. Those damned lizards had finally come out of their holes and were joining her planes in attacking the Dixx cruisers. She switched to a close-range pickup of the torn corpses of the Arachnian cruisers. A damned undignified way to die, she thought. Even for them.
"Princess Arvan," her communications officer called. "I am getting an urgent message from our fighters."
"What is it," Arvan asked.
"The Earth ships have broken away from them and are heading our way. Elyran fighters are presently harassing them. There are only one eights and six of them left. They are outnumbered and they request reinforcements."
"Reinforcements for a measly handful of beaten warriors? They must be joking. Tell them I give them to the Elyran worms."
She turned back to the main screen. "Give me a picture of the Dixx battleships."
A long-range picture of the two besieged Federation cruisers gave Arvan a good idea of the slim chances for the Federation people to survive. Soon after they were obliterated they will go after the Elyrans, Arvan thought. But not before. These cruisers were closer and more intact. They pose the greater danger. The news about the Earth fighters didn't worry her. Their victory over her fighters was a fluke, an unplanned surprise attack. Now they were prepared.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 22)
|
Kajima dispersed his team a little bit more, and sent them towards the nearer cruiser.
"How's our Elyran escort doing, June," he asked his wingman.
His wingman laughed. "We've left those crates a long way behind. It'll take them some time to catch up, boss."
"Yeah. It doesn't matter, anyway. Wing Leader to Strike Leader. Captain, I suggest you loosen up your formation. Lessen the chances for the enemies to get you with one shot."
"Good suggestion, Commander. B-team. Disperse and attack second group of spacecraft."
Mia's fighters flanked the farther cruiser and skimmed along its surface. As the Empire fighters continued their attack, Mia and her pilots hit them from underneath and the Dixx fighters hit them from the top.
Though the Dixx fought furiously and unceasingly, it took the arrival of the Earthers to turn the tide. The faster and smaller Earth fighters flew in and around the Empire fighters and picked them off at will. The Dixx fighters were hard put to miss for the Earthers.
Arvan watched the battle. What is happening? My warriors are dying. The best of my warriors. She whirled on her navigator. "Where are the Tiros fighters?" she asked her.
"They are still coming, my lady. It will take them a few minutes before they arrive."
"Damn."
Shortly, a flash of deep-red and bright-blue lights from the main screen startled them.
"What was that?" she asked. "An explosion?"
"No, my lady," her communications officer said as she looked over all her indicators. "All decks report all well."
The Pilot-Navigator shouted. "Princess! Look."
Arvan whirled and saw two bulky spaceships coming to rest right near the massed Tiros cruisers. What are they, and where did they come from? They look like Dravidian cruisers but...
A flash of white light momentarily overloaded their screen.
"Look! Another one!" her navigator exclaimed.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 23)
|
Seeker fired her newly-installed energy converters and converted her inertial energy into radiant energy. A solid front of white light radiated out of Seeker's fore and aft projectors like an enormous flash of lightning, and she braked to a virtual standstill.
Seeker fired a nuclear missile at the unsuspecting Tiros battleships, and took out four of them in one shot.
The Tirosian battleships raised their shields, so Constellation's and Hermes' fighters swooped down on the rest of the cruisers, easily breaking through the shields.
The small box-like Earth fighters from the Constellation and Hermes passed through the shields of the first cruiser and started firing. Large gouts of fire sprang from her surface as the fighters' bombs exploded against the metal hull, starting a chain reaction of explosions within the ship.
Before they could bring their remaining guns to bear, the two groups of fighters moved on to the next ship.
The Tiros fighters that were dispatched to assist the beleaguered Detterex planes were suddenly recalled. They wheeled and turned back to their mother ships.
Hermes and Constellation started pulling back to give themselves room to fire their missiles, and Seeker turned around to follow the three drifting Elyran battleships.
Arvan saw the retreating Earth cruiser, and whirled Defiant to follow.
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 24)
|
Armored carriers from the Constellation and Hermes pulled up alongside the breaches in the Elyran ship's hull, and marines started pouring into the Federation cruiser.
O'Connell started putting on her battle armor, and followed Seeker's marines into the armored carrier. She hefted her pulse rifle and nodded to the pilot.
The carrier moved out of the bay, and joined the other carriers moving out to the Elyran cruiser.
O'Connell leaned over the pilot's screens, tapped Nick on the shoulder and pointed to the Detterex carrier sitting on the Federation flagship's hull.
The CETI specialist nodded and said, "Yeah, that's the spot. But someone's in the way."
The pilot nodded and let loose a barrage of pulsed energy. The carrier exploded and spun away from the hull.
The pilot then took the Mud Turtle in and touched it down near the area where the Empire ship had rested. As the Turtle's landing claws crunched and held onto the cruiser's hull plates, O'Connell snapped down her visor and led the others out of the shuttle and into the jagged tear in the ship's metal surface.
She had a momentary feeling of nausea as she left the carrier's artificial gravity and felt Talon's own wavering and unstable field. She could barely see through the floating particles of frozen gas and debris. She gestured a demolition team closer and pointed to a sealed airlock door.
As soon as her whole team got in through the hull, the others snapped some collapsible Crystalline barriers across the torn metal and started welding them to the hull, effectively sealing the gap.
The demolition team waved and the marines hunkered down.
From inside the hull, the planted explosives detonated and tore the door from its hinges, but with the Crystalline shields, no further air escaped into space. O'Connell and her people rushed through the broken doorway, weapons at the ready. She switched off her visor's infrared as she squinted through the thick smoke and fumes, and saw a stunned armored alien staggering and lifting her weapon.
O'Connell fired her pulse rifle as a laser beam splashed across her shoulder. The Detterex warrior was thrown back as O'Connell’s explosive slugs ripped her armor.
A dozen marines ran ahead of the fallen Empire officer and squeezed through the airlock.
What now, she thought.
She saw about twenty-four huge armored Detterex warriors hunkered down at the end of the corridor.
"Shit," she cried. "Everyone down. Now!"
A fusillade of beams flew through where their heads were a moment ago. One of O'Connell’s people threw a grenade to the other side and, as a deafening explosion reverberated in the hall, O'Connell and her people rushed the Empire warriors.
Most of the Detterex invaders were dead or stunned. Those still alive were jerked up and held at gunpoint.
O'Connell was picking up one of the torn Empire helmets when one of the prone bodies started firing. A shot hit her full on the silvered front of her suit. Though the surface material of the armor reflected much of the energy of the shot as the magnetic bottle of the cartridge ruptured, the detonation knocked her against a bulkhead. The other marines fired on the Empire soldier, and her body jerked and thumped to the deck.
"Commander," the Marine lieutenant said as he helped her up, "are you all right?"
"I'm okay, Lieutenant. Just a bit stunned."
The marines inched on into the ship, weapons ready. They dragged their prisoners with them. The Detterex warriors were larger than their captors, averaging more than a foot higher than O'Connell, but, being stripped of their armor and disarmed, they went along passively. O'Connell, mindful of Mia's lectures, left the prisoners to the female officers.
After a while of walking through the seemingly endless but empty corridors, she stopped at a corridor blocked by torn odds and ends piled high into a barricade, and turned to the Lieutenant.
"Lieutenant, I think we're lost."
"Yeah, I think so, too. I think we better give the ship a call."
O'Connell pressed the side of her helmet. "Hello, Seeker," O'Connell said. "I think we're lost. Get a fix on us, will you?"
"Aye, Commander. Getting a fix on you now." Some of the people on the bridge snickered.
"Is something the matter, Lieutenant?" O'Connell said in deadly monotone.
"Uh, nothing, Commander. You're, uh, just a few meters away from what we think is the bridge section. Keep going the way you've been going and you'll be there in a few minutes."
"That's a relief."
Suddenly they heard shouts at the far end of the metal corridor, and the clang of heavy boots made the marines point their weapons at the source of the sounds. O'Connell raised a hand and pushed the barrel of the nearest soldier's gun down.
"Wait!" she cried. "Thanks, Lieutenant, but I don't think we need help. The Elyrans seem to have found us. Call you later and tell you how things develop. Out."
As they cautiously peered over the rubble, they saw a cluster of aliens at the other side. Some of them seemed to be arguing with each other, and some of the bigger ones nervously pointed their weapons at them.
O'Connell took the opportunity to survey the aliens: Like the Detterex, they looked like humans, but with long hair tied loosely with thick yarn, almost like fur in their extravagant thickness and fineness. Not unattractive at all.
They looked just like their captured Detterex warriors, close enough that they could be mistaken for Detterex, except that they were smaller. Smaller than humans, even. The Detterex averaged about a third of a meter higher than the average human, but these Elyrans were diminutive, even by Earth standards. The lone male in the group looked to be about 1.3 meters in height, and the others were just about one and a half meters.
But more than just the height, she instinctively knew that these were different. They had a different feel about them that made her sure that these were a different set of people and not just another bunch of Detterex. It was almost like the way you would distinguish a fox from a wolf. The novel feeling brought home to her the alienness of these beings. They weren't humans at all. And she felt a slight tickling within her skull, a very faint but pleasant itch that she felt was being caused by the Elyrans.
The Elyrans seemed to have finished their arguments, and the lone Elyran male moved forward.
"T'chahn, Earthers," the Elyran male said distinctly. He then followed it with a stream of fluent Elyran.
By its cadence, they could tell it was something ritualistic. Some sort of greeting, perhaps.
O'Connell wished that the captain was here. She could talk Elyran like a native, though she knew that her voice would probably sound very heavily accented to the native-born. She gestured for Nick, the CETI specialist, to come closer.
"What's that character saying, Nick?"
Nick grinned though he knew she couldn't see him through his visor. "You can use the translator in your suit, Commander. Still, I think I could help you out.
"He says greetings and extends the congratulations of the Federation ambassadors to the valiant Terran warriors. He would also like to talk to the lady in charge. Commander, I think you'd better move forward, and take off your helmet, too."
O'Connell nodded. She switched on her translator set thereby connecting her to Seeker's computer and translating anything spoken within the range of her suit's mike to Standard-English. She took off her helmet, praying that the scientists' predictions about alien germs and pathogens were correct, and shook her hair free. The Elyrans were taken aback. O'Connell turned up the gain of the suit's microphone. "Come on then," she said to Nick.
Nick took his own helmet off and they both moved forward. The Elyrans gasped as they saw their faces. Only the small alien male seemed less surprised.
Nick bowed very low and spoke in halting Elyran. O'Connell’s translator echoed his voice in English.
"Greetings, my lord," O'Connell’s translator spoke for Nick. "I speak for my lady, Commander Elizabeth O'Connell of the Earth warship Seeker. Please pardon my lady. She has yet to master your speech."
"Quite all right, quite all right. Please tell her that I am Prince Ren Tevann-Reshanii of the Great Plains of Elyra, husband to the princess Tasha Liaran-Kerr who leads our expedition. We thank you and bring our greetings to you and your people."
O'Connell smiled. "Nick," she said, "tell our host that they are quite welcome. Ask him if they need anything in the way of supplies or assistance."
Nick relayed the message, and the Elyrans went into a huddle.
"We thank you for your generous offer," O'Connell heard the Elyran say to her through her translator, "but we are as yet not in a position to evaluate damage and losses. Perhaps when all duty stations have reported, we will have a better picture."
"Tell him that we are standing by to help, and that we offer more Marines to help repel other boarders. Ask him if there are other intruders other than the bunch we bumped into."
Nick translated and the Elyran turned to her. "There are some in the forward decks, but they are under control." The Elyran looked at her quizzically. "May I inquire as to how you are able to understand us, yet are unable to speak?"
O'Connell smiled, and Nick explained about their translators.
"All your warriors are furnished with these devices?"
"Yes, my lord. They are built into all our armored suits."
"Yet, you do not need this device."
"No, my lord. I am a student of the arts, and my field of study is your language and culture. I am fluent enough that I do not need electronic aids."
Ren's eyebrows went up. "You are a scholar? I am myself also a scholar, though my field is not in the aesthetic arts. Tell me, are you of a royal family?"
Nick coughed self-consciously. "Umm, no, my lord. I am but one of many soldiers sent to meet with you and your people."
"Then you are mated to your Commander."
"Umm, no my lord, I am not."
Ren seemed puzzled. "I am at somewhat of a loss to understand: an Earther male, a scholar, and yet not of royal blood. Are all Earthmen as privileged as yourself?"
"In our society, my lord, all are free to undertake whatever studies they would like, be whatever they would like, whether they be male or female."
The female Elyran soldiers were shocked and a little scandalized.
"You say that there are female scholars in your world?" One of the soldiers said in mild surprise. "What kind of female would do such a thing?"
Nick bowed to the soldier. "In our world, warrior, we take pride in our learned citizens."
"Is it not the exclusive privilege of royalty and clergy to learn and study the arts and sciences?"
"To us, all citizens have a right to aspire to, and become, anything they choose to be."
The Elyran seemed ready to argue the point, but Ren cut her off with a downward gesture of his hand.
"Gently, warrior. These are, after all, not Elyrans. We must make allowances for different customs and practices."
"A good sentiment, my lord," O'Connell said in halting and heavily accented Elyran. "'Do not grudge to pick out treasures from an earthen pot,'" she quoted.
"What? You can speak!"
"Yes, my lord. But not very well yet."
"What was that you said?"
"That was a quote, my lord," Nick said, "from someone in our recent past. 'Do not grudge to pick out treasures from an earthen pot. The worst speak something good.'"
Ren nodded slowly. "Perhaps. Very apt, yes." Ren gestured to the forward decks. "May I escort you to our bridge? From there I hope to be able to give you a clearer picture of shipboard status."
O'Connell bowed and followed their host toward the bridge.
Defiant fired her maneuvering rockets, and was fast approaching Seeker and the battered Elyran cruiser. Talon's gunners let loose a brace of explosive missiles but Arvan's crew was able to intercept them. Defiant barely felt the missiles as they exploded outside of her hull. Seeker kept a constant barrage of pulsed laser fire on the Detterex flagship, the chain of explosions forcing her to veer away.
Lieutenant Commander Tomoguchi surveyed the space surrounding them from Seeker's bridge screen. "That was close. Anything else coming, Lieutenant?"
"Not for the moment, Commander. The others seem to be keeping their distance, and Defiant is retreating at high velocity."
"Good. Get me the captain."
"Aye, sir. Captain on line."
"Captain, this is Tomoguchi. The Federation ship Talon is secured, and our boarding party has already made contact with the aliens. Any further orders?"
"None, Commander. Good work. Carry on. But be sure to recover all our equipment. Part of the standing orders from the Admiral is not to leave anything behind for the aliens to study. Find out if the Elyrans need further assistance. Lend whatever medical aid or supplies are needed, though I don't think we'll be of much help."
"Aye, sir."
"Where's Commander O'Connell, by the way?"
"I've been left in charge, sir. She went down with the boarding party."
"God damn it! Did she take Nick along?"
"Aye, sir."
"Then, I suppose it's all right. Keep me posted, Lieutenant. The enemy's just about through. We'll be coming in shortly."
"Aye, sir. Seeker out."
|
- - - - -
|
(bookmark 25)
|
Arvan turned to her new pilot-navigator as Norga paced restlessly around the bridge. "Give me a report on our fleet, Pilot."
"My lady, our forces are scattered on the outermost side of the battle zone. We and some of our other ships are still well within range of the Federation ships."
"How many of our fighters are left?"
"About a fifth are still functional, my lady. The rest of our fighters are still in the hangars of the cruisers, so we have about a third of our complement intact. We are, however, currently short on warriors to be able to launch all of our remaining fighters."
Arvan shook her head. "Recall our fighters, Pilot. And have our fleet regroup on the far sector. Organize an orderly retreat."
"Retreat!" Norga bellowed, as he stepped down to the main deck. "The pride of the Detterex Space Fleet, retreating?" He all but spit in her face.
Arvan hung her head. "We have no choice, my husband. Either retreat or perish."
Norga swung his arm in a vicious backhanded blow to her face. "No! I will not have us retreat like whipped curs! We must fight!"
The new Pilot-Navigator stood and openly defied the prince, her loyalty to the princess overcoming any thoughts of fear. "My lord, it is the only wise move. Our forces have been decimated, and more than half of our warriors are dead or wounded. We have been surprised by the Earthers, and we need to regroup and rebuild our strength. Even the Tirosians who have not been hurt as badly as we are retreating."
Norga was about to pull out his sword, but he felt Arvan's hand on his sword-arm.
"No, Norga," she whispered. "Please."
Norga sneered but relented. "All right. So be it. Though I think your judgment errs too much on the side of caution, wife. Would you have it said that you ran from battle to cower in fear from these worthless Earthers?"
"No, but history will say that I saved my people from needless death, so that they may again fight another day."
"And will that day come soon, my love?"
"I will make it soon." She nodded to her Pilot-Navigator. "Do it."
Her new Pilot-Navigator immediately issued commands, and slowly, Defiant rotated on her axis and fired her main engines. She pulled away from Seeker and the Federation flagship, on a rendezvous with her other sister ships. Though many of her warriors openly protested the retreat, it was merely for show as they nevertheless quickly broke off from the Federation and Terran fighters, and headed for their individual mother ships - a pitiful remnant of what they once were.
|
- - - - -
|
(End of Part Two)
|
Postscript to this installment: A Dedication to Holly
A fellow writer in BCTS named Holly Hart was helping me edit my story, “Shepherd Moon.” Prior to her passing away, she finished editing the prologue, and parts 1 to 3 of the story. Holly and I agreed that we would post the edited version of the story when it was completed and we would hold off on posting any edited versions until then.
As many in the site know, Holly passed away August of 2013. And now that the story’s finished, I am posting our edited version of the prologue, and parts 1, 2 and 3 of the story, and I am dedicating them to Ms Holly “Happy” Hart.
She was a talented and open-minded editor who always had an encouraging word for amateur writers like me, and was a kind soul - gentle in her encouraging correspondence, and always positive in her outlook in life despite the considerable challenges that were in her way.
It is through the example of people like her that I find the will to persevere, and the power to remain positive regardless. If Holly can continue on and remain positive up to the last moments of life, we all can.
For Holly Hart / Holly Logan, 1944 – 2013
With Love, July 2016
Comments
Wow !
that was fast.
thanks
apparently...
apparently, it was too fast...
Earth may have more of an edge than it thinks...
First, let me say I really like this story. Nice world building and almost epic size.
And without having read the whole saga yet, I guess Earth may have more advantages than its people think. The Elyrans are more than a bit behind in computer technology, which is a prerequisite for all sorts of automated systems, including weapon systems...
The greatest assets
And the greatest drawbacks, can be found in comparison. In the story, our technology is based on using more fundamental forces, our fundamental science is more developed (LHC for instance is likely a unique artifact for the Earthlings) and thus we're able to produce more efficient designs, faster. We however lack the blatant psychic powers supposedly shared by both Elyrans and the Deterrex are in possession of.
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
Shepherd Moon, Part 02
Enjoying how the primitive Earth Fleet is superior to the others. To what fleet do the shio shown belong to?
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
Civilized
The word civilized keeps coming up, but like another reader pointed out Earth is far more advanced than either the Federation or the Tirosian Empire. They are both primarily feudal which in this case means they are not making any where near the full potential of their peoples. The bit about computer systems also suggests they rely more on servants rather than automation like Earth. That also explains why they over estimated Earth's population so badly. For their worlds to be able to do the same things they need a much greater population density.
Earth also has the advantage of Dr. Steele's genius. She admitted it was as much a fortunate accident as hard work as many game changing technologies are.
Another advantage is that Humans tend to be rather down and dirty when it comes to war. The Detterex has a point failure within their command structure, Norga. He is interfering with the commander who does know what she's doing, and he has absolutely no experience in space warfare. Unknown how everyone else's military sciences match up with Earths. It is sad that we've accumulated so much experience.
I will say this is one of the most intriguing stories that I've read in awhile. It's like Hogan writing an anime! Great!
hugs
Grover
Shepard Moon, indeed!
Earth has a lot to offer the aliens. But have also just shown that they won't be easy to take. Superior technologies, superior ships...
Even outnumbered they will be a 'tough nut' to crack. But they need allies and have already shown their choice in that respect.
I suspect the Tirosians will soon hate to hear the words, 'Earth' and 'Terran'.
Excellent story.
Maggie
This is a great story from
This is a great story from the 1st two posting's really love how thing's are flowing together .Looking forward to the next chapter Thank you for a great read:).
What an awesome story
This is so good!!!
Sheperd Moon tech
Call me slow but I finally, I think, have a grasp on how different Terran tech is from the Federation.
"Only about half of the circuitry of the castle's new system used vacuum tubes, the rest used printed circuit boards and expensive integrated circuits, making the system faster and more reliable than most."
"And, with their expertise in computer technology and the use of Phase-Wave, Earth interstellar navigation technology was now more than a few generations ahead of the Federation. Plus, with their expertise in planetary engineering, energy generation and synthetic-food production, they were more than equal to their extraterrestrial counterparts."
Looking up the first integrated circuits that came into use here, we're talking about 1950's era tech given so many vacuum tubes are still in use. No mention was made of transistors so that appears to be something they either missed or ignored. So, yeah, Earth's computers is light years more advanced.
It's easy to see why Earth's space-fighters tore up the bad guys. Fly by light control systems with computerized gun-sights and weapon systems versus much bulkier and slower 1960's stuff. Adding in the improved engines which is better than the Federation's if only because of the miniaturization made possible by Earth's better electronics it's almost like WWI bi-planes going up against WWII P-51's and FW-190's.
On the other hand, they do have energy weapons as well as nukes, so they're dangerous no matter how primitive their electronics.
Another note on the telepathic thing, the nature of this bridge thing is not necessarily a good thing. One member of the pair is almost forced to be submissive to the stronger. I can see where that could have formed some of the feudal aspects of their sociality.
Very good story!
hugs
Grover
More Shepherd Moon Tech
I won't get into too much, but...
Grover: ICs are made up of transistors; something like 6 make up a NAND gate that are grouped into math engines or I/O or whatever. In 1990 tech, only power transistors or RF parts need to be separated from the ICs and are put on circuit boards, too.
Bobbie: It's not like everything needs to have it's physics all calculated out, but I think you are underestimating the kinetic energy in a ship moving at .5C. All the force used to accelerate the ship times the time it is applied is converted into kinetic energy. If this were converted to radiant energy, I guess that the ship would appear to be an X-ray Quasar, for a short period of time, endangering everything around it. If this were aimed it would be a heck of a weapon....
It would be cool if this energy could be turned into mass, like the reverse of a fusion power plant, or even absorbing more energy, the reverse of a matter anti-matter reactor. Then the matter and anti-matter could be stored and recombined whenever energy is needed.
Your story is really good; no need to worry about anything I've just said. I just wanted to tell ya!
Hugs and Bright Blessings,
Renee
Ready for work, 1992.
Hugs and Bright Blessings,
Renee
thank you for the correction
thank you for pointing out my error.
Great Indeed!!
One of the best stories I have ever read!
Hilltopper
Just... Wow.
This is what I would call "A serious piece of science fiction", right up there with Straczynski(Bablylon 5) or Brin(The Uplift series).
This needs to be published...
just found this story, really
just found this story, really like it amazing battle descriptions
love the story but it seems
love the story but it seems illogical that a civilization would try to change the make up of it's leadership to placate an alien race which they haven't even met yet.
surely not all of the planets that make up the federation are matriarchial.
I totally agree
Yes, it does seem illogical that a civilization would try to change the make up of it's leadership to placate an alien race. In which story did that happen?
To read my old Working Girl Blogs, click this link -
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book/19261/working-girl-blogs
To read all of my blogs, click this link -
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/blog/bobbie-c
To read my stories in BCTS, click this link -
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book/14775/roberta-j-cabot
To see my profile and know more about me, click this link -
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/user/bobbie-c
""""GREAT"""" !!!
Loving this!
alissa
Ren
I thought he was gonna die there, the earth people kicked ass I’m amazed they were only at 15% engine capacity.
hugs :)
Michelle SidheElf Amaianna
I'm trying to decide...
I'm trying to decide if I'm mad at you for telling me about Mia in a Witching Hour comment. I love my sleep, but I'm a binge reader, so something new usually equates to lack of sleep. I guess I may have an addictive personality... Good thing I have disdain for drugs; otc, script, and controlled substance.
Next chapter I imagine is going to be hairy. Matriarchal society and former patriarchal society.
Mwahahahahahah!!!!
And, to keep your insomnia going, I suggest "Bobbie's Little Stories," "Eureka," "The New Agent," ""New Endings, New Beginnings," and "Danny's Other Stories." These are all on top of my current ongoing stories that are posted every weekday at 8PM, of course...
Mweheheheheheh...
click here to read all of my blogs,
click here to read my stories in BCTS, and
click here to see my profile & know more about me.
A deep read,
It is going to take a while to catch up.
Worthless Earthers?
The Federation sounds like the UN council when it comes to preparing for a war that is headed to each system. Seems pet projects in the Federation are more important. And too much money to spend unnecessarily with the UN. Wonder how both will like getting caught with their pants down?
Worthless Earthers, huh? So Norga thinks the Earthers are worthless, despite the fact the Earthers just kicked Empire butt?
The Empire has never met a foe as fearse as Earthers when they dander is up. Earth has better technology than the Empire and run rings around Empire fighters. Worthless, huh? If Earth ever gets their whole act together, bye bye Empire.
Others have feelings too.