Galactic Alliance 3: Honor Thy Enemy Page 9

  Ken was sitting in the Captain’s command chair discussing the situation with Doug. The day before, Ken had asked permission to take part in the routine watch rotation. After discussing the issue with Councilor Warden and Commodore Scarboro, Captain Sheppard had granted permission. Ken had visited the councilor several times since their first encounter and his emotional stability had been steadily improving.

  Elizabeth had actually suggested to Ken during their last session that he become part of the bridge rotation. This would give him a more defined purpose and keep his mind occupied on matters other than the death of his wife. The longer he could keep from dwelling on his loss the less painful the memory would become over time. He had just relieved Captain Sheppard so she could get some dinner and was still settling into the watch.

  “I still don’t understand why they haven’t come after us,” Ken shook his head.

  Doug sipped his seemingly ever-present coffee and replied, “Well, they didn’t have much luck fifteen years ago – why would they bother to try again? We’re far too fast for them. Besides, we have an advantage this time – we know where a lot of their deep space tracking stations are located. “

  “They’re cloaked!” Ken argued. “The Kyrra couldn’t possibly have found them all. That fact was made clear in their transmission.”

  “True. But the fact remains that we are able to outrun even their fastest ships. They won’t bother us unless we give them an opportunity.”

  “It still bothers me,” Ken replied as he scanned a ship’s status report he had called up on his console. “They haven’t even tried. It’s as if they are thumbing their noses at us.”

  Doug watched his friend in silence for a few moments. Ken seemed to be recovering quite nicely from his depression. Although he still preferred to remain in his stateroom most of the time he no longer avoided all contact with the crew. However, he was still not the person Doug had known fifteen years ago. He was worried about a relapse which was one reason why he was on the bridge now.

  Unsatisfied with Doug’s silence Ken continued, “We are headed into the heart of their empire you know. And I’m sure they periodically move their tracking stations. They’re tracking us, perhaps not continuously, but they know we are here and the bastards aren’t doing anything about us. I don’t like it.”

  Doug chugged the last of his coffee before replying, “Stop worrying Ken. The Kyrra know what they are doing. They would not have sent us into the middle of Chroniech space without having some sort of plan in mind.”

  Ken huffed in disbelief. “The Kyrra are not known for their military tactics. I wouldn’t bet that… ”

  “Contact dead ahead!” the science station loudly reported. “Distance 22 mega-klics, 3.1 minutes.”

  The navigator quickly checked his own display and reported, “No course correction required. We will clear by 200 kilo-klics.”

  This sort of thing happened once or twice a watch as the speeding ship encountered wandering chunks of rock large enough to threaten the integrity of the ship’s drive field. Smaller objects were of no concern because they did not possess a large enough gravitational field to interfere with the stardrive fields. While a ship under stardrive did not physically exist in normal space the drive fields did and those fields could be disrupted by disturbances in the space-time continuum.

  Following standard procedure, the ship’s computer had initiated a detailed scan of the object. The science station glanced at the results then amended his report. “Captain, the object is not natural. It looks like the remains of a large ship.”

  Stricklen glanced at the long-range tactical display then said, “Helm, slow us down and bring us in a little closer. Science, give me a deep scan.”

  “What are you doing Ken?” Doug asked suddenly concerned. “We have a time schedule to meet. Stopping to look at a wreck in the middle of enemy territory might not be a good idea.”

  “Accidents happen,” Ken replied, “and ships are lost for no apparent reason. If that,” pointing toward the icon that had appeared on the tactical display, “is a Chroniech warship we have an opportunity to possibly gain some vital intelligence concerning their technology. Isn’t that worth a few hours delay?”

  Doug looked at the numbers appearing on the science station’s screens then over to the long-range tactical screen and finally at his wrist chronometer. “Very well,” he reluctantly replied looking into his empty coffee cup. “I will inform the Captain. Besides, I need another cup of coffee.”

  Stricklen turned to the helm and ordered, “Bring us as close as you can then drop to normal.”

  On his way out the hatch Doug turned around and said, “Be careful Ken. This might be coincidence or it could be a Chroniech trap.”

  As if in response, Ken turned his attention to the tactical station. “Mr. Corder, keep an eye on our long-range screens and let me know if you see anything suspicious.”

  The Dragon dropped into normal space 20,000 kilometers from the ship and spent a few minutes maneuvering to match velocities with it. Three probes were launched to begin a detailed scan of the wreckage.

  The normal-space sensors, being able to discern more detail than the longer-range FTL-based sensors, quickly confirmed the fact that they had indeed happened upon the wreckage of what had once been a large spaceship.

  “I wonder why she didn’t self-destruct,” Captain Sheppard remarked a moment after she entered the bridge with Doug trailing behind. Both were carrying cups of coffee. Doug's, as always, was in a tall cup filled only half full to prevent it from sloshing out while he carried it while Sheppard's was in an insulated mug with a cover.

  Stricklen started to get up but sat back down as Sheppard motioned for him to remain in the command chair. All Chroniech warships the Alliance had ever encountered had self-destructed when their ship’s computer had detected they were no longer able to defend themselves in battle. It was one reason so little information concerning Chroniech technology was available.

  “I don’t think this is, or rather was, a warship,” Chief Petty Officer Gunther at the science station replied. “If this had been a warship we would be picking up multiple radiation sources from the fusion reactor cores used to power the weapons. So far, we’ve only found evidence of only three – far too few for a warship.”

  “Any idea what took her out or how long ago it happened?” Stricklen asked.

  “I don’t know what did it, but it happened fairly recently,” Chief Gunther replied. “I’ve calculated the trajectory of the largest pieces and, based upon their relative velocities, whatever damaged this ship did so within the last several hours. If I had to guess, I would say that it started in engineering. The ship has split into… hold on a minute.”

  The science operator turned his attention to his control console for a moment then looked back up at Stricklen with a surprised look on his face. “There may be survivors in the wreckage sir. I’m picking up some very faint EM readings from inside three of the largest pieces.”

  “Crap!” Doug exclaimed while looking back at the long range tactical display. “We can’t pick up their transmissions which means they may very well be telling someone we are here.”

  “Doubtful,” Chief Gunther said. “Their transmitters are based on transdimensional technology and that requires a tremendous amount of power. What I’m picking up looks more like small portable power units. Nothing over a few kilowatts.”

  Captain Sheppard moved toward the command chair motioning for Ken to vacate it. “Helm, bring us to a halt. Science, move the probes in closer. Tactical, sound battle stations.”

  Ken reluctantly relinquished his seat and walked over to stand next to the science station. As the alarm klaxon sounded and the ship came to battle readiness Ken bent down and asked, “Can you determine how many people are inside?”

  “I can bring one of the probes in closer,” Mr. Gunther replied as he entered several commands into his console. “The IR sensors should be able to detect individuals at close range.”<
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  Captain Sheppard had settled into the command seat and reconfigured the screens to her liking. After ensuring that the ship was battle ready she turned to Doug and said, “What do you think Commodore – a trap?”

  “Not likely,” Doug immediately replied. “It would have been much easier to trap us with a cloaked, armed gravity mine. I’m sure this ship’s going to be missed though so I wouldn’t stick around much longer.”

  “I agree,” the Captain replied. “We won’t get much useful intel from a civilian ship anyway.”

  “They, however, have gotten some intel from us,” the communications watch added. “They probably know we’ve been here. That ship has windows.”

  “He has a point,” Doug replied.

  “The dead don’t talk,” the communications watch replied.

  “They will all be dead pretty soon anyway,” the science operator chimed in. “All three of the sections holding survivors are losing temperature and two are very slowly venting air. I give them at most another six hours before they’re all dead unless they have survival suits available.”

  “We can’t take the chance of them telling their military we were here,” Sheppard said, coming to a decision. “Mr. Gunther, recall our probes. Weapons, lock on and standby to… ”

  “Belay that order!” Stricklen fairly shouted. The bridge went dead quiet. Ignoring the glaring stares from both Scarboro and Sheppard, Stricklen reached over Mr. Gunther’s shoulder and tapped out a quick command. A blurred but distinguishable image appeared on the main viewer.

  The furred face of a Chroniech could be seen looking out of the porthole directly at the video pickup of the probe. Behind him or her several others could be seen huddled together in a corner.

  “Those are civilians,” Ken said pointing toward the screen. “The Alliance does not kill civilians – even those of the enemy.”

  “They are dead already Ken,” Sheppard replied controlling her anger. “Do you think the Chroniech would care who they are if our roles were reversed? They would kill helpless civilians without blinking an eye. Mr. Gunther, recall your probes.”

  Stricklen stood up and faced Sheppard, “We are not Chroniech. Dragon, freeze and enhance the image on the main monitor.”

  The ship’s computer faithfully carried out the request. The image froze and instantly became clearer. Ken pointed at the image and in a quavering voice full of emotion said, “That was a civilian passenger liner. Some of the survivors are children. I will not sit by and watch you murder them!”

  Behind the person peering out at them, the form of an adult Chroniech could be seen holding an infant in one arm while bending down to comfort another the size of a small child. The bridge was intensely silent. Against her wishes Captain Sheppard looked up at the screen.

  “What would you have us do?” Doug said. “Rescue them and take them to the nearest planet and hope they will be grateful enough to let us continue on our way?”

  “At least give them a chance,” Ken pleaded. “Doing anything less is not only immoral but it would mean that we are behaving like the monsters we think they are. Do nothing and I will damn make sure the Kyrra are made aware of your actions. How do you think they will react to that?”

  That caused Doug to stop and seriously consider the consequences of their actions. He had worked with the Kyrra, he knew their history, and he didn’t like the conclusion he drew from Ken’s statement. He bent down and whispered a few words in Captain Sheppard’s ear. She looked up at him then over at Ken.

  “I don't like being blackmailed but we will play it your way Captain Stricklen,” Sheppard replied in an icy tone. “But we don’t have a lot of time. What do you propose we do?”

  A few minutes later the Dragon moved closer to the stricken ship, the probes were recalled, and three repair drones were dispatched. Under the guidance of the Dragon’s master computer the drones plugged the air leaks by welding small pieces of debris over them. Three quickly assembled heaters were attached to the hull. A hydraulic ram then drove two 4-centimeter diameter tubes through the hull providing the heater with both a suction and a discharge path. Along with the heaters, the engineers had also installed a simple air regeneration system. After this was completed the drones returned to the cruiser.

  Just before departing, the Dragon’s high power FTL transmitter powered up and sent a signal toward the nearest Chroniech planet. A standard emergency beacon was then dropped and the Komodo Dragon resumed its interrupted journey.

  In his stateroom, Ken smiled and then he cried. Some Chroniech male was going to be eternally grateful that his wife had been saved by one of the enemy. Ken knew what it felt like to lose a loved one. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone if he could help it – even a sworn enemy. He knew full well that his actions today would forever affect his relationship with Captain Sheppard. But he didn't care. He had done what was right in his eyes and anyone else who thought otherwise could simply go to hell.

  His sleep was restless that night. He kept waking up with visions of the Chroniech children he had seen through the passenger ship's window. The next morning he made an appointment to see Elizabeth.

  In her office, Ken recalled the events of the previous day and then explained the night he had experienced. Elizabeth took a sip of her tea while she thought things over. “Personally, and professionally, I think you did the right thing,” she said. “Considering the individuals on the bridge at the time I'm not surprised at the suggestion to simply leave the civilians to their fate.”

  Ken disliked tea but had accepted a cup of coffee. He reached over, picked it up from the table and took a hesitant sip from the steaming cup. “I don't follow. Was I right or was I wrong?”

  “It's not that simple,” Elizabeth replied. “Captain Sheppard lost most of her family during the first Chroniech war. She would not hesitate to fire on unarmed Chroniech civilians. For her, this is morally correct and she would have no regrets.”

  Ken found the coffee a bit too hot to drink and set the cup back down. “Okay, I'll buy that. But what about Petty Officer Forbush or Doug for that matter? I think if the Captain had let him Forbush would have pushed the button himself to vaporize what was left of that ship.”

  “I don't have much information concerning Petty Officer Forbush,” Elizabeth admitted. “I am, however, curious and I may do some research later on. As for Doug, his major priority is the successful completion of this mission. Anything that might compromise it would be questioned.”

  Stricklen picked up his cup, blew across it, then took a sip. “I guess that explains the blood lust on the bridge. Now what about my dreams? If I did what I felt was right then why couldn't I sleep last night?”

  Elizabeth took another sip from her tea and set her cup down. She leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath as she thought about the problem. Ken couldn't help noticing that her actions had caused her more than ample chest to puff out making her breasts look even larger. She was a beautiful woman and Ken wondered if there were people on the ship that made up problems just to spend time with her.

  Elizabeth had noticed where Ken's eyes had been focused but she was used to such reactions. “You did what you thought was right,” she said causing Ken to refocus on her face. “But in doing so you challenged Captain Sheppard's authority. You even went so far as to threaten to tell the Kyrra if she did not bow to your wish. You are second guessing yourself because you challenged her. You were the Captain of this ship once and I'm sure that what you did would not have gone over very well while you were in command.”

  “Not at all,” Ken admitted. “So was I wrong?”

  “No,” she replied with a bit more force than necessary. “You suffered a major trauma when your wife passed away. You spent 18 months in a state of denial and depression from which you have only recently recovered. That recovery process will continue for awhile and you may find yourself faced with circumstances that might try to push you back into being depressed. You felt very passionate about stopping the slaughte
r of unarmed civilians especially once you learned they included women and children. You should be congratulated.”

  Ken's coffee had finally reached optimum drinking temperature and he took a good sip before replying. “Any suggestions on where to go from here? I'm surprised Captain Sheppard hasn't dragged me in front of a review board by now.”

  “Well, you could apologize.”

  “Apologize? She's likely to bite my head off and spit it out the airlock! You didn't see the look she gave me.”

  Elizabeth smiled and chuckled. “You might be surprised how she reacts. She might look like a rough and tumble, battle-hardened, thick-skinned, tyrant. But she is a woman. She's also the Captain of this ship and she deserves to know that she is respected. Don't let this become a rift between the two of you. Tell her you're sorry. Talk to her as one captain would talk to another.”

  Ken downed the last of his coffee and set the cup down. Standing up he said, “I will do that. In fact, I will do it right after I leave here. Thanks councilor!”

  Elizabeth stood up and walked him to the door. “Recovering from a major depression is not something that will happen overnight. You will have setbacks. Just remember – my door is always open for you.”

  Ken stepped into the passageway and waited until he heard the door click shut behind him. For just a brief instant something inside him stirred but then quickly passed. Turning to his right he marched down the passageway towards the Captain's stateroom.

  On the other side of the door, Elizabeth was evaluating her own emotional turmoil. Professional etiquette demanded that she separate her feelings from her professional responsibilities. Even though Ken had not expressed any desire to become more than her patient, she had found herself becoming emotionally interested in him. It was not uncommon for a patient to form an emotional attachment to the doctor, especially when the patient was male and the doctor was a female. The reverse was less common but not unknown.