High
Score
by
Charles Walter
“They
destroyed the Earth, and the Prime Minister is
going to apologize? Did I hear you right?” Roger Dixon
shook his head violently
with dramatic intent as he paced back and forth in the
Admiral’s office. He
didn’t believe what he’d heard. The last few years had
been a challenge for
him, and whenever he had thought, That’s it. That’s
the height of stupidity.
It all gets better from here, the universe worked
extremely hard to prove
him wrong.
“Sit
down, Roger,” Admiral Park said from behind his desk,
glowering. “You just don’t
understand politics. You never did. Otherwise, you might
be behind this desk.”
Eight
years ago, Roger received his dream promotion to Captain
and was awarded
command of the light cruiser Kona, Tim Park as
his XO. Tim was a
Commander then, just three years younger. While Tim was
competent and reliable,
he lacked critical judgment, which Roger emphasized in
the evaluations he sent
to the upper brass. The Earth Federation didn’t need
captains incapable of
extrapolation.
Now
Roger was still a Captain, and shining on Tim’s lapel
was his first star. If it
were peacetime the brass would have already been hinting
at his retirement, but
it was war, and they needed him. He’d been in command of
the heavy cruiser Dempsey
for five years now and knew it inside and out.
With
the Earth ruined, the colonies now provided the
political leadership, and Tim
Park had hitched his wagon to a star, with Waluce Ivugu,
the new Prime
Minister. Roger never had been very interested in
political machinations, and
associated with the failed, old Earth leadership as he
was, only necessity and
some past miracles had kept him afloat.
Roger
ran the conversation back-and-forth in his head several
times on the way back
to his ship. They were docked at Star Base Gómez for
standard repairs when he
received orders from Admiral Park to immediately meet
him inside. That was
surprising because he hadn’t known Admiral Jusephus had
left for a different
command. As a new Admiral, Tim Park had undergone a
complete hair regeneration.
He hadn’t been that insecure about his thinning mane,
but a political job
required a political appearance. Only a politician would
have conceived the
Earth Federation’s new plan, and only a politician could
have communicated it
to him so earnestly. Park’s transformation was complete.
Roger felt uneasy, and
the antiseptic quality the starbase emanated didn’t
help.
The
war had been going poorly for the Earth Federation.
Before the sneak attack with
the World Destroyer, Earth had held an undeniable edge
in population,
technology, and raw resources. Now, with four billion
dead and civilian
leadership decimated, they were drastically outnumbered
and fighting a
guerrilla-style retreat. The powers that be were
war-weary and had decided to
tack in a different direction. The new plan was to meet
the Vena at a peace
conference in neutral space.
The
term “peace conference” was merely a smokescreen as an
agreement had already
been reached through back channels. The Earth Federation
sued for peace. In
exchange for the end of hostilities and payment of an
annual tribute to receive
“protection” from the Vena, Earth gave the Altair and
Capella colonies to the
Vena, which would force the emigration of hundreds of
thousands. In addition,
the military was to disarm almost completely, and most
egregiously, Prime
Minister Ivugu was to universally broadcast an apology
for Earth’s aggression,
which had caused the war.
The
last bit was what stuck immovably in Roger’s craw:
Earth’s aggression. The
first several encounters with the Vena had all led to
the destruction of
unarmed Earth Federation cargo ships, killing civilians
numbering in the
thousands. When the source of the attacks was finally
tracked back to the Vena
homeworld, Earth discovered the Vena sphere of influence
which consisted of
other alien species paying tribute as a result of wars
they didn’t start. They
lived in fear due to semi-regular pogroms the resident
peacekeepers conducted
on their worlds, complete with explanations Roger felt
laughable.
He
found it odd that there were several alien species
within one hundred
light-years of the Vena, while Earth had searched a much
wider area and
encountered only one other alien species, the Wedosta,
which they promptly
befriended. Roger’s distant ancestor had played an
important role in that first
contact, a source of pride for the family for the
ensuing centuries.
The
Earth Federation was fortunate to maintain technological
superiority over the
Vena, who also had faster-than-light travel but did not
have the Lewis Drive,
which had been continually refined over the centuries to
the point where
improvements were rare and trivial. Any Earth Federation
warship could reach a
top speed twenty percent greater than the fastest Vena
ship. Also, the World
Destroyer, whose history was clouded in mystique and was
classified at a level
beyond Roger’s eyes, but which provided a deterrent
force granting the military
a sense of security. Many had sympathy for the enslaved
races and sought to
free them, but the government in power at the time did
not want conflict, which
in Roger’s viewpoint was the direct cause of what
followed.
As
what so often happened in engineering when an incredible
leap in technology is
found, just the mere knowledge of its existence led
competing researchers to
leap what were once insurmountable hurdles. It was not
long thereafter before
intelligence learned the Vena had cracked the initial
puzzle and were now on
their way to building their own World Destroyer.
The
Earth Federation met with their leadership in extended
negotiations and agreed
to provide annual payments, trade concessions, other
technological advances,
and eventually even the Lewis Drive if the Vena would
agree to abandon their
research; subject to a group of human and Wedostan
scientists inspecting them
regularly.
In
practice, the inspections were announced well in
advance, and the Vena became
extraordinarily creative in their reasons to restrict
the scope or call them
off.
###
The
Dempsey was stationed in Sol’s asteroid belt
in support of mining operations three years ago when
contact with Earth
disappeared. They wasted hours on the assumption that
the error was in their
communication equipment. Finally, Roger ordered an
onscreen view of the Earth.
As the captain of the nearest warship, he left
immediately to confirm what they
saw. The Lewis Drive cannot be used safely in the
increased particle density
environment of an inner solar system, so they had to
travel conventionally,
arriving at what remained of Earth a few weeks later.
When
they arrived, the atmosphere was completely opaque, and
the orbital satellites
had all been destroyed which left the planet without
power or communication. No
one to was left to complain. Roger’s science team
estimated the entire
population had perished within the first ten days. Over
the next three years,
other ships with more specialized equipment searched the
planet and found
thousands of survivors, those who had subsisted on
private power sources
separate from the satellites that beamed free and clean
solar energy to Earth
via microwave. They also had hermetically sealed
bunkers. Once disdained by the
general culture as conspiracy theorists, they had the
last laugh as it was, but
as the sole survivors of the attack, had no one to tell
“I told you so.”
###
Roger
thought of all that happened as he approached the
docking point, straightened his uniform, then announced
himself to the soldier
on duty before being permitted to board. As he walked
down the familiar
corridors, his heart rate and anger diminished, and an
indescribable feeling of
home overcame him. The Dempsey had been their
home for the last five
years, now their only home with the residence outside
Tucson no longer
habitable. He knew he needed to speak to his staff
officers, but at the moment
they were scattered throughout the station on a variety
of missions, some
personal. This wasn’t that urgent, since there would be
more than enough time
for them to contemplate their assignment as they
journeyed to the conference.
He placed a mandatory meeting on their schedules for
late afternoon, but in the
meantime, Roger needed some relaxation himself.
He
headed straight for the game room on the family deck.
When he walked in, he saw
the familiar fluorescent-green pants his eldest child
usually wore at one of
the consoles, a spherical game screen completely
covering his head.
The
room had three rows with ten consoles each, but that
afternoon as luck had it,
the lone one available was to the boy’s left, so Roger
sat down and carefully
let the game screen lower over his head. A moment later
he patched himself into
his son’s game. His hearing and sight were disoriented
for a few seconds, and
then he found himself in the navigator position on the
virtual Dempsey,
not entirely unfamiliar due to his tour on the Dempsey’s
sister ship Williams
as a young lieutenant commander right before his
marriage. Peter sat alertly in
the captain’s chair, but did not notice the NPC
navigator had been replaced, so
Roger addressed him.
“What’s
the mission, Captain Dixon?”
Peter
turned and grinned shyly at him. “Oh. Hi, Dad. It’s Attack
on Eridani. I
just wiped out the fourth wave of Vena. It’s about to
get really tough, so I’m
glad to have your help. I didn’t expect you back so
soon.”
Roger
shook his head theatrically. “Peter Clint Dixon, you
should know by now to
expect me when you see me. Don’t you already have eight
of the top ten scores
at this game?”
Peter
completed his schoolwork in the mornings faster than any
child Roger had ever
seen and spent far too much of his earned free time in
the game room learning
by trial and error, mostly error, how to be a ship
captain just like his father
and many ancestors. The boy’s ambition and drive filled
Roger with pride, and
he was honored the boy wanted to be like his old man,
but still, at ten, Roger
and his wife felt the boy needed some more well-rounded
interests. Roger wasn’t
looking forward to the arguments he knew were
forthcoming.
“You
can always do better, Dad. Don’t you say that yourself?”
It
wasn’t the first time Peter had turned Roger’s own words
against him. He felt
aggravated, but also gratified to know he’d been heard.
Since Peter had been
two, it seemed as if he remembered everything his
parents said, often to their
dismay.
The
next hour they spent together helping defend the Eridani
colonists, but then
Roger decided it was time to switch roles. The Dempsey
had the second
edition of Attack on Eridani, which had been
updated to be more lifelike
and realistic, with the latest in politics and haptic
feedback. A key change in
the game involved the introduction of the Eridani
wormhole. It had appeared
without warning just two years before the Earth was
destroyed, at which time
the Earth Federation deprioritized basic research in
favor of basic survival.
Early experiments had discovered the wormhole led to the
opposite end of the
galaxy, far from any human-explored space, and just a
hundred kiloclicks away
from an empty but very habitable world. Fascinating from
a scientific
perspective, it was low priority to the game designers,
who had yet to
incorporate it.
The
game was meant to give the players the flavor of all
aspects of being a
starship captain, so he would spend as much time in
communication with and
evacuating the colonists as he did fighting the unending
Vena hordes. Roger
really wasn’t in the mood for rest though. He needed an
immediate win, so he
set off to achieve the high score and ignored any game
aspect distracting him
from that goal. He pulled out all the stops, and when
his resources provided
inadequate against the forces arrayed against him, he
improvised. He sent out
probes to the wormhole, equipping them with broadcasting
devices to make them
appear to be fleeing Earth Federation destroyers,
something he knew the Vena
could not help but follow. Once a game element reached
the Klypin point at the
center of the wormhole, it meant instant destruction. He
easily took out a
group of pursuing Vena destroyers with that tactic.
“Dad,”
Peter said. “You’re not playing in the spirit of the
game. I keep having to put
off the colony governor. He wants to know when help is
coming.”
“This
is what I’m feeling, Peter. You’re of course welcome to
leave the bridge.”
Peter
didn’t. Roger knew he was far too invested to go home.
Once Roger was devoid of
probes, he started equipping his fighters and sending
them on one-way
trajectories.
“Dad,
what kind of captain sends his fighters on Kamikaze
missions?”
“Peter,
listen to me. War is hell, and when you sign up to
fight, you sign up for
anything and everything. Each fighter lost traded two
human lives for hundreds
of Vena. You think that’s something? Watch this.” He
sent his evacuation fleet
on the same vector and, having secured the high score
plus an acceptable
margin, went out in a blazing glory.
“C’mon,
son,” he said. “Let’s go home to get some lunch before
I’m needed back at work.”
Signing
out, they headed home, navigating the labyrinth the
family deck had come to resemble.
Roger was pondering what he’d tell his crew when Peter
disappeared. Roger
muttered to himself something unseemly about the boy’s
caution as he wended his
way through the last corridor and entered their home
among the stars. Peter was
already seated between his mother and younger sister,
several bites into his
peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
“Dear,”
Roger said to his wife. “He did it again.”
Kristine
Dixon removed the soiled burp cloth from her shoulder,
stood up to her full
five-foot-five inches, and towered over her young son.
“Peter, what have we
told you about transporting outside our quarters?”
An
abashed look formed over Peter’s jelly-stained face. “I
know, Mom, but I was
hungry, and Dad was cheating.”
“I
don’t care what you think your father may be doing,” she
said. “You know very
well it’s unsafe for you to show your gift. People won’t
understand it. People
get frightened by what they don’t understand, and it
rarely turns out well.”
Peter’s
power had surprised them just after his ninth birthday.
He and his parents had
been eating dinner when little Maddie suddenly figured
out how to remove
herself from her built-in crib on the other side of the
common area. Kristine
screamed in anticipation of the little one taking a
nasty spill when, in a
blink, her big brother was there to catch her. Peter
told them he didn’t
understand how he was doing it initially, but soon he
became skillful. His
parents had made him promise to be careful and only
teleport in safe places
around family, but Roger guessed losing the high score
annoyed Peter more than
he’d let on. The Dixons weren’t a devout family, but
Roger did believe a higher
power was out there somewhere and aspects of the
universe he’d never truly
understand. Peter’s power must have a purpose beyond
their understanding. It
couldn’t have been simply an evolutionary advantage. Man
with his technology
left evolution behind a millennium ago.
While
he ate, Roger prepared for the staff meeting. The war
had persisted through all
five years he’d been in command, which had given greater
latitude in crew
choice. He knew he was a touch paranoid, which was often
a source of
exasperation for them (as well as the top brass), but
that was what saved
several ships at the Battle of the Leader Nebula.
Having come through
the other side of that fire largely unscathed had
created a mutual intimacy
among the staff which provided him the confidence to be
honest with his
feelings.
“Look,”
he had told Admiral Park earlier. “Make up an accident,
a natural disaster,
some story about the destruction of several ships we can
hide as an insurance
policy. You know they’re not going to keep their word.
You know there won’t be
peace. Where is it in their history? They have no need
for it. If this is the
end of humanity, shouldn’t we go down fighting?”
“Roger,
you are so unbelievably rigid. The only way we can truly
have peace is to show
them how committed we are to the concept. To arm for war
merely ensures there
will be one. I had hoped you would consider yourself
lucky your ship was not on
the decommission list. For old times’ sake I put my
thumb on the scale of that
decision, but if I hear any more of these insubordinate
ideas from you, it can
easily be changed. Dismissed, Captain!”
Roger
sat in the front of the command conference room,
fidgeting as he watched them
file in, all punctual, before he stood and cleared his
throat to speak. He knew
the tighter the information flow in any society the more
rumors fly with great
abandon, but they were receiving official confirmation
for the first time that
much of what they had heard was in fact true. They were
losing ninety percent
of their military capacity. Two-thirds of the ships in
the fleet were scheduled
to be decommissioned. Two of the five Earth Federation
colonies were being evacuated
and annexed. Yes, the Prime Minister was going to
apologize for Earth Force’s
aggressive and inciting behavior that was the root of
the conflict.
Roger
gave the news dispassionately, as if reciting the daily
weather. Not the
weather of the Denebola’s capital, notorious for chaotic
swings that made
Denver look stable, no, as in Los Angeles. Capitulation
was sunny and 72
degrees, every day.
Then
Roger looked at them individually. “We’ve served
together for quite some time
now, some of us for even longer than the five years I’ve
skippered this boat.
We’ve fought many battles and lost fewer of our friends
to this war than anyone
could have reasonably expected. We are family, and
nothing you say here will
leave this room. I believe the fate of humanity may be
on the line, and I want
each of you to feel free to share your thoughts on what
is to come.” He pointed
at Lieutenant Commander Richardson, the Chief Navigation
Officer. “Tony?”
One
by one they spoke, some garrulously, some terse. He had
chosen the order
seemingly in an arbitrary manner, starting near the door
and working his way
around the oval table, but he’d known Richardson since
Tony had been an earnest
new Ensign under him on the Williams, and he
knew the tone he would set.
Tony’s
parents and younger siblings had all been on Earth, and
they hadn’t died
quickly. A vision of what the poisoned air had done to
those bodies arose in
Roger’s head, which he immediately dismissed, a skill
the present circumstances
had taught him. Tony was all alone in the world now, and
he wanted to fight.
The
others spoke as he expected, some with disbelief at how
the politicians had
sold them out, others not liking the concessions, but
seeing no other
alternative. Speaking last was Commander Gonzales, Chief
Engineer. She was the
last woman Roger had been involved with before he’d been
assigned chaperone
duties against his will. The occasion was a ball in
Flagstaff to celebrate the
one thousand year anniversary of the discovery of the
Kuiper Belt by the
ancestor of his charge, Kristine Jeong.
He
had broken up with Elena the next day, and over the
years they had forged a
strong friendship, enhanced when she and her new husband
had both transferred
onto his ship four years ago.
“I
don’t like this,” she said. “But it’s done, and the
humans who live are getting
what they asked for. Elections have consequences. You
can deny it, Captain, but
I know you have it in mind to buck this, somehow. It’s
foolish and will get us
all court-martialed at best.” She gazed at him deeply
for ten seconds, then
smiled sardonically. “You have my full support.”
Later,
when he had finally gotten Maddie down for the night, he
sought out Peter, who
was seated on his bed reading Seven Pillars of
Wisdom, by T.E. Lawrence.
###
Guerrilla
warfare, Roger thought. Well, that might be
useful. Peter looked up with a curious expression. “Mind
if I join you?” Roger
asked, playfully tousling Peter’s thin, blonde hair.
“Sure,
Dad,” Peter said.
“Look,
I know you didn’t think I played the right way. I
ignored my orders, for sure,
and that’s something you shouldn’t do. But you know in
the real world things
aren’t always as cut and dried, and sometimes the rules
need to be broken,
right?”
“Yes,
Dad. I know what’s going on, what’s really going
on. You don’t need to
worry.”
Roger
chuckled at the boy’s confidence. “Even I don’t know
what’s really going on,
but you’re more knowledgeable than most, for sure.”
Still, there was an
impatience in Peter, a question unasked. “What is it,
son?”
“Are
the Wedosta all dead?”
“That’s
the sort of question you know I can’t answer, as much as
I might like to,”
Roger said. The Wedosta were the first alien species
humanity had encountered.
They were smaller in number than the Earth Federation
and less ambitious. They
quickly got caught in the war’s crossfire, and with
their survival threatened,
the remnants of their society announced they were
exiling themselves and
cutting off communications. If they had succeeded, Roger
didn’t honestly know,
and such knowledge was above his purview as well. He
knew why it was important
to Peter. Their many times’ great-grandfather Clint
piloted the first mission
to the Wedosta homeworld. Merely seven humans had been
there for man’s first
contact with an alien species.
“I
know,” Peter said sadly. “I’d just like to help them if
I could. I just wish I
could be big and help you.”
Roger
smiled and touched the boy on the shoulder. “You help me
by looking after your
mother and baby sister.”
“Do
Dixons all serve?”
“Pretty
much. Most do in the military. Some serve other ways.
You’ll find your way.
Maybe you’ll make a first contact like Papa Clint.”
“Or
the first to shoot at a new species like he did,” Peter
said, giggling.
“You
do know the official version of events described the
encounter as self-defense.”
That’s what the mission commander had written about the
different nation-states
they encountered. “They wouldn’t have made it home
otherwise. Remember, Dixons
don’t start fights. We finish them.”
“But
the ones he made friends with. They trusted us. They
trusted us, and look what
happened.”
“I
know, son. Life doesn’t always wrap up in a nice bow.
Not all endings are
happy. But that’s no excuse to stop trying.” He made a
show of sniffing the
air. “Now look, I know very well you didn’t shower
tonight.” He held up a hand
to preempt any protestations. “You take care of that,
and I’ll come back in
later to say good night.”
###
Several
months later the Earth Federation’s entire
civilian leadership and fleet gathered outside the
Eridani colony far enough
away from the colony to travel to the agreed location in
neutral space, several
light-years away.
Once
they were underway, Roger gathered his crew together
again. “There’s no turning
back now. I’ve made official notice regarding those of
you who object to this
course of action, so your careers should be safe from
retribution.” Then he
turned and spoke to Elena Gonzales. “Commander, you’re
certain you can pull
this off?”
“Yes,
sir,” she said. “To be honest, I hope you’re wrong, but
I don’t want to be
caught unawares if you’re right.”
“May
God be with us,” he said. There was a saying that God
takes care of children
and fools. He wondered which humanity currently
qualified as. All he knew deep
down was the Vena did not believe in peace. They’d never
obey any treaty not
signed in humiliating defeat and enforced with
regularity and vigor. The best
case would have the Earth colonies reduced to slave
plantations, but he knew
what there was to be known about the other races under
the Vena protection, and
they hadn’t shamed the Vena anywhere near the degree the
Earth Federation had.
Retribution was likely to be swift and brutal, and
sticking his head in the
sand and dreaming of peace reminded him of when Peter
was younger and would
hold his breath to try to get his way.
He
smiled as he remembered the time Peter actually did turn
blue. Roger was
aggravated at the obstinacy but proud of the conviction,
aware of its likely
genetic source. He was prepared to show some conviction
himself, but even with
the fleet at top speed, it would take them two weeks to
get there. It was
enough time to talk himself out of it, which is why he
had made sure to commit
the staff to this course now.
###
Two
uneventful weeks later they were pulling out of Lewis
Drive when the alarm klaxon shook the bridge.
“Richardson, report,” Roger
commanded.
“We
can’t slow down, Captain,” Richardson said.
“Captain.”
Gonzales’ voice came through the communicator. Roger
leaned over and pressed a
button. “Yes, Gonzales?”
“Damage
to the Lewis Drive circuitry, sir,” Gonzales said. “If I
try to shut it off it
could blow.”
“Understood,
Commander. What do you recommend?”
“I
could shut it down very slowly. We’d need to circle.”
“Begin
a standard racetrack holding pattern. I’ll notify
command.” Yes, he would, and
he would enjoy this. Their prescribed position was in
the back row, due to the
considerable time Roger had spent finagling, which would
aid his argument. One missing
ship in the back wouldn’t be noticed. He called the
Admiral.
“Yes,
Captain Dixon?” Park asked.
“Lewis
Drive issues, sir. We’ll brake naturally and rejoin the
formation,” Roger said
officially. Nine hundred years later the technology
still suffered the
occasional gremlin.
Park
frowned. “After the conference, I’ll have a team of
engineers run a full suite
of diagnostics. You better hope they find something.” He
looked down at his
console. “At least you’re in the back. Maybe they won’t
notice one missing
ship.”
“I
hope so, Admiral.”
The
ship assumed a racetrack pattern, skirting the inner
solar system where the
increased particle density would slow the ship down. It
wasn’t considered safe
to turn the drive on or off there, but dedicated testing
had demonstrated the
proper system tweaks to slow gradually, rather than
coming to a screeching and
often fatal halt, as in the frontier era of
faster-than-light travel. Official
orders demanded that all offensive and defensive systems
be disabled upon entry
into conference formation, but Roger was all in. If
peace was legit, he’d be
retired the next day, with a pension if he was lucky.
Otherwise,
who knew? He’d gambled at the *, defying direct orders,
which saved not only
his ship but several others, including thousands of
civilians. He trusted his
instincts, and anyway his career trajectory before the
war always led to
retirement around now. It just wouldn’t be at the farm
his family had owned in
Southern Arizona for centuries. The younger officers
would get a mark on their
records and be able to resume their careers. Senior
staff? Well, he’d recorded
objections when requested.
He
handed the bridge command over to a junior officer and
gathered with some of
the senior crew to watch the peace conference broadcast.
The entire Earth Force
fleet representing Earth’s total destructive capacity
was there, lined up in
rows, defenseless. They watched the Prime Minister and
the top ministers board
the Vena flagship. Ivugu was young for his position,
brimming with earnest
idealism, which Roger envied, as misplaced as he
occasionally found it, but
Ivugu was a man of the colonies. The colonists held a
political supermajority,
which wanted peace at any cost, so they were willing to
believe almost
anything. Roger admired the man’s cool voice as Ivugu
recited the various
unprovoked aggressions which Earth Force had engaged in
over the years,
concluding the sole way for the galaxy to have peace
would be for the Earth
Federation to unilaterally disarm to show their
commitment.
The
Dempsey was on a straight leg of the pattern,
approaching the gathered
ships at a bit below light speed, twenty minutes shy of
the Lewis Drive
shutting itself down.
Roger’s
head was down. He found himself praying, which he did
infrequently. He wondered
if God would discount his prayers. After all, he hadn’t
always been a sincere
penitent because he had doubts.
“Look!”
Richardson said, shaking Roger out of his reverie. The
far wall of the
conference room displayed a view of the fleet, now
exploding cinematically in a
series of chain reactions.
How?
The Vena chose the meeting place. Mines? The obviousness
made Roger’s blood
boil.
“Captain,
Admiral Park’s on Alpha Channel,” the Chief
Communications Officer reported.
“I’ll
take it here.” Roger heard himself speak, although he
seemed somewhat detached
from his words. It felt like everything was unreal, as
if this was a bad movie,
and when he’d had enough, he could just turn it off and
go hug his kids.
Park’s
face appeared on the screen, his carefully cultivated
look marred by an open
cut on his right cheek, dripping blood. “Roger, you were
right. Get to Eridani.
Save whomever you can. I’m sending you my parents’
address. If you can. I’m
sorry. Do what you think is right.” The transmission
went dead.
“All
hands to the bridge.” Roger rose to his feet and ran to
the door. “Best course
to Eridani at top speed.” He shut his eyes briefly and
tried praying again.
This time it felt sincere. He hoped God agreed.
He
counted to ten, breathed deeply, then resumed.
“Commander Jacobsen, please meet
me in my cabin. Richardson, you have the bridge.” He
headed out before either
could respond.
“Take
a seat,” Roger said, pointing to the row of three padded
seats facing his desk.
He thought back to when Admiral Park was his XO. Park
was experienced in the
role in contrast to Jacobsen, the one member of senior
staff who had joined
since Leader Nebula. Jacobsen was bright and
hard-working, if not a little
behind on the job’s social aspects. Roger had been
guiding him through that
deficiency and thought he’d be a fine captain one day.
That day was now blurry
in Roger’s present view. “We need to save what we can,
Mikhail. What’s your
recommendation?”
Mikhail
Jacobsen brushed a loose strand of hair and spoke
confidently. “We’re the last
Earth Force warship. We’re overwhelmingly outnumbered.
The other colonies…” He
stopped briefly and lowered his eyes. “They have no
hope. We’ll get to Eridani
three days before any likely pursuers. If we message
them now, they can begin
planetary evacuation to an uncolonized habitable world.
We’ll pray it’s unknown
to the Vena. We can escort the last stragglers.”
“You
have your orders, Mikhail,” Roger said. “Dismissed.”
Roger waved his XO out of
the room.
###
Two
weeks later they pulled out of Lewis Drive, a month
away from the colony on Eridani. They settled into orbit
around one of the
outer planets on the other side of its sun, a hundred
thousand kilometers from
the wormhole. Before they could communicate with the
colony the ship fell under
fire, long shots, too far away to do damage.
“Jacobsen?”
Roger barked.
“Sir,
four destroyer class ships. They must have already been
here.”
“How
much time, Commander?”
“Seven
minutes, sir. More if we run.”
“Run
then, towards the Klypin point.” Maybe there was enough
time. “Mohammed,” he
said to the communications officer. “Contact the planet,
traditional methods.”
“Sir,
it will be forty minutes before we can receive a reply.”
“Understood,
Lieutenant Commander. Open a channel to the entire
ship.”
“It’s
ready, sir.”
“Attention.
Attention. This is the captain. All civilians and
non-combatant military are
ordered to the lifeboats. Departure in fifteen minutes.
This is not a drill.”
He
turned his attention to the bridge crew. “Jacobsen, you
have the bridge. Anyone
who wants to see their family off; you have five
minutes,” he ordered. Then he
left the bridge himself, quickening his gait as he
headed toward family
quarters in what he hoped was a dignified fashion.
When
he arrived, the door was already open. Kristine held a
sleeping Maddie in her
left arm, the other protectively around their son.
“Dad,”
said Peter. “Are we going to die?” His face indicated he
thought it a foregone
conclusion.
“No,
son,” said Roger. “Not if you’re on that lifeboat.”
“Are
you going to die?”
He
noticed his wife’s glare. They’d had many “discussions”
regarding the maturity
of their older child. Given the circumstances, he felt
it appropriate to trust
his own judgment. He leaned over and stroked the boy’s
hair. “Maybe. I don’t
want to, but if I have to die for all of you to live,
it’s worth it.”
“But
I want to help,” the boy said plaintively.
“You
can help me by looking after your mother and sister.” He
stood up and softly
kissed his wife. “Kristine.”
“I
know who I married,” she said. “I’ve never regretted it.
You do your job, then
you join us. This isn’t goodbye.”
He
nodded, then looked at the sleeping face of their
youngest child, making a
memory. He kissed her forehead, then quickly hugged the
others and returned to
the bridge.
“Jacobsen,”
he said.
“Sir.”
“Proceed
to the shuttle bay. You’re in charge of the evacuation.
Get them through the
Klypin Point, then veer starboard.”
“But,
sir?”
“You
have your orders. It’s not much for your first command,
but I know you’ll do
your best.”
Ten
minutes later the lifeboats launched, a minute before
the first Vena ship
closed within deadly range. It wasn’t the Dempsey’s
first interstellar
dance. They were outnumbered, but they had the greater
skill and the bigger
ship. Their exclusive liability was the need to maintain
a proper defensive
position to protect the lifeboats.
Within
half an hour they had destroyed two of the ships, but
had nearly decimated
their supply of Trudeau torpedoes, which would soon
leave them entirely
dependent on their laser defenses. No communication came
from the planet.
Realistically
Roger hadn’t expected any, but the dead certainty
hardened his resolve. “Save
two Trudeau torpedoes,” he ordered.
A
shot rocked the ship, and Roger knew they’d been
flanked. He wished to not have
the lifeboat burden, but he knew their priorities.
“Gonzales, report,” he said.
No answer. Damn. Jacobsen was gone, so now no one on the
bridge crew knew the
lower decks better than he did. He turned command over
to Richardson and raced
to the elevator.
When
he reached engineering, he received a report that the
third of four Vena ships
had been destroyed, along with the Dempsey’s
remaining fighter craft.
Engineering was on fire, the primaries out of
commission. Elena lay on the
floor, blood flowing steadily from her lower abdomen.
The rest was worse.
He
held her head gently, and somewhat instinctively she
opened her eyes and looked
at him. “Secondary engine,” she said as she died.
He
turned to the nearest console and operated on instinct
and faint memories to
start the secondary. He stood and watched, strapped to
the hull, two, three,
four minutes while explosions rocked the ship. Finally,
it engaged, and he
raced to the bridge.
On
return, he found the bridge empty. He looked and saw
where there had been a
hole in the hull to cause the depressurization, thirty
degrees to starboard.
The automated damage control system had repaired it, but
too late. Roger sat in
the command chair. He lowered his head, allowing it all
to rush in. He was
alone, he had failed, and humanity would surely perish.
His consciousness
filled with vivid memories: catching a Diamondback home
run in the playoffs as
a teenager, the way the light disappeared in Kristine’s
hair the night they
met, Peter lying helplessly on her tummy, his umbilical
cord still attached as
Roger’s hands shook too much to cut it, and the smile
little Maddie gave him
every day when he came off duty. Thankfully, it was
almost over. Only a few
minutes more before the remaining ship would finish him
and then pick off the
families at its leisure.
Then
a figure appeared on the bridge where there had been
none.
“Peter!
What in the world?” Roger exclaimed.
“It’s
okay, Dad, no one but Mom saw me go,” Peter said,
humoring the old man as if he
were oblivious to the implications of his actions.
“You
teleported through empty space, son. Did you even know
you could do that?”
“I
knew, Dad. I don’t know how. I just knew. You went
silent. Mom was worried.”
“Communications
are down, son. If you thought your mother was worried,
imagine what she’s
feeling now. You did it once. Do it again. I told you,
your job is to protect
your mother and sister. I expect a future officer to
follow orders.”
“Dad.”
Peter looked around the bridge, absorbing the scene
slowly. “You’re all alone.
You can’t do this by yourself. I’ll protect them. I’ll
protect them with you.
Let me help you.”
Roger
hated when the boy was right. No matter how he spun it,
his son would share his
fate. The lifeboats needed time to get to the Klypin
Point, and there was no
way he could maneuver and fire weapons with the
necessary proficiency alone. “Ensign
Dixon, man operations.”
“Yes,
sir,” Peter squeaked brightly as he sprinted to his
station, a youthful spring
in his steps.
“Destroy
that ship. I don’t care how. This isn’t a game. I’m
engaging evasive maneuvers.”
A
quick and violent exchange of fire followed. They took
additional damage, but
the bridge held. Roger watched the ships exchange fire
out of the corner of his
eye. Standard orders of engagement required them to aim
at engines to disable
ships and minimize loss of life. Peter concentrated his
fire on the bridge, and
soon Roger saw a satisfying explosion.
“Captain,
Vena vessel is destroyed,” Peter said proudly.
“Good
work, Ensign, and good timing. We’re dead in the sky.”
He paused, then executed
his contingency plan. “Ensign, execute firing pattern
Dixon Chi at the Klypin
Point five minutes after they pass through.”
“Dad,
excuse me, Captain, if we destroy the Klypin Point,
we’ll never see Mom and
Maddie again.”
“We
can’t follow them, Ensign. If any colonists survive we
can’t help either, and
there will be a small fleet of Vena ships here in three
days. If we do our job,
it will be decades before the Vena discover where we
sent them. Carry out your
orders, Ensign!” No more risks, he thought.
“Yes,
sir,” Peter said, leaning over to execute the sequence.
The ship’s lasers fired
a complicated frequency-rotation sequence at the Klypin
Point. For two minutes
it did nothing, then the wormhole’s knotted sides began
to unwind, thin, and
extend, slowly covering the hole. After another seven
minutes, the other side
could no longer be seen.
“Switching
to manual.” No one had ever tried this technique, but
the classified reports
Roger had read detailing the simulations believed it
would do what he intended.
He needed to do this himself, otherwise Peter might feel
guilt for years, even
unwarranted.
He
aimed carefully and fired the remaining torpedoes. The
wormhole started
shaking, and after fifteen seconds winked out of
existence. Roger sighed,
closed his eyes, and thanked God. If Jacobsen had
followed orders the lifeboats
should be unaffected and free to the planet. In three
weeks, they should land
safely.
“Lord,
please watch over your children,” Roger prayed. “I think
Mikhail is ready.
Please give him the wisdom to protect all our families.
If you would, let my
daughter remember her father.”
Then
he remembered. “Ensign, has there been any word from the
colony?”
Peter
quickly scanned the communication logs. “No, sir. Should
there have been?”
“I
guess not.”
“They’re
gone, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Captain,
the other colonies?” Peter asked.
“Likely.
In any case they’re beyond our reach.” Roger felt
heartless, but there was no
purpose in denying reality. He watched as it sunk in.
The boy retained his
poise. He would have been a good officer one day.
“Did
this have to happen, sir?”
“I’m
afraid so, Ensign. The most dangerous force in the
universe is people who need
to believe something contrary to all evidence.”
“We
used to number eight billion. What can 250 people do?”
“Whatever
they can. They have no choice.”
“They’re
safe, but what about us? Can we fix the ship?” Peter
asked. “Sir?” he added.
“We
might be able to restore some maneuverability before our
friends arrive.”
“Then
what?”
Roger
walked over to his son, placing a hand on his left knee
to address him. “What’s
the high score, Peter?”
Peter
smiled and giggled. “Who knows? Let’s beat it.”
END
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