Theogony 3: Terra Stands Alone Page 7

  “Aye aye, sir!” said the duty engineer, seated next to the helmsman at the front console. He was responsible for all of the damage control systems. He turned on the General Quarters alarm. Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong! sounded the bell. It was followed by the engineer’s call of “General Quarters, General Quarters, all hands man your battle stations!”

  “Helmsman, full speed ahead!” Captain Sheppard ordered. “Contact the Emperor’s Paw,” he said, turning to the communications officer. “Let them know we’re making the jump. We’ll see them on the other side.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Five

  In the Presence of His Majesty, Drakon, COROT-7 System, December 20, 2020

  Captain Bullig walked down the empty stone chamber, hoping that neither his knees nor his bowels betrayed him. To bring the Overlord bad news was usually a death sentence. The Overlord didn’t just shoot the messenger; he usually ate him...piece by piece while what was left of the messenger was forced to watch.

  As Captain Bullig had narrowly escaped a similar fate his last time here, bringing bad news a second time was not what he wanted to do. That was why he had violated the Overlord’s orders and had gone into the Solar System; he had been hoping to find some good news that he could use to save his life. Violating the Overlord’s orders was similarly fatal, though, so it was a desperate gamble. He had known the deck was stacked against him, but it was his only chance.

  And it was the slimmest of chances.

  Only one thing scared Captain Bullig, and that was the Overlord. Fully 14 feet tall, with fangs that stuck out over four inches, he was covered in scars from all of his battles and fights to achieve supremacy. A veteran of over 200 duels, he had won every fight he had ever been in. He had also killed every opponent he had ever faced, usually by dismemberment; surrender was not an option.

  The greeting hall was empty, so the Overlord had obviously heard that Bullig was bringing bad news. It did no good for minions to hear bad news, so the Overlord cleared the hall when he knew it was coming. Bullig’s meter-long boots made slapping sounds that echoed loudly in the empty hall. Bullig had to cross 200 feet from the entryway to the platform that the Overlord’s throne sat on. He could feel the Overlord’s eyes on him the whole way. He knew not to look at the Overlord, as the Overlord had a habit of licking his lips as people approached with bad news. If he saw that, he would...he didn’t know what he’d do. Run? Cower? Beg? Wet himself? None of the options were particularly helpful. He very carefully looked at the Overlord’s feet, which wasn’t hard as the platform that held the Overlord’s throne was nine feet high. The better to overawe his subjects...as if that was needed.

  He marched up to within 20 feet, then got down on his knees for the next 10 feet, and then on his stomach the last 10 feet. Without looking up, he played his one card. “I have come from the Ross 154 system, and I bring you good news, your honorable majestic graciousness!”

  “Good news?” the Overlord asked in a booming voice that echoed in the hall. “I was told that you brought bad news. I heard that our fleet there was destroyed, and that you violated my orders.”

  Bullig wasn’t surprised that someone from his crew had sold him out. When one of the Overlord’s enforcers pulled you aside to ‘ask you a few questions,’ you told them everything you knew. Bullig was dead if his plan didn’t work.

  “As far as the fleet being destroyed,” he said in as strong a voice as he could muster while lying on his stomach, “that much is true. The exploration force went through the stargate, and only half of the battleship Slayer came back through. It appears nearly all of them were killed.”

  “And you consider the loss of one of my battle groups to be good news?” asked the Overlord.

  “I do not consider their loss to be good news,” replied Bullig; “however, I do consider the fact that we have found a worthy enemy to be good news. That is why I left the system where I was stationed.” He definitely did not say that he violated orders. “I wanted to take a look inside the system and see if they were worthy of your majestic attention. I figured that the battle group would have cleared out any mines that might be near the stargate, and I was right. The system is inhabited by a species of soft and tasty-looking bipeds. We collected enough of their transmissions in the short time we were there to find out that they call themselves, ‘humans.’ They appear to be quite warlike in nature. Although the only ship we saw was a cruiser, they also had fighters, so there may be at least one spacecraft carrier nearby. We were not there long enough to see any other ships. Even though the battle group had cleared out many mines, there were still a lot of them remaining.”

  “What is the state of their technology?” asked the Overlord.

  “They will be a challenge to defeat, but not too difficult, oh honorable majestic graciousness,” said Bullig. “They should provide our fleet a little fun. Their technology is fairly old, and it is not of a caliber that should cause us to lose too many ships. In fact, their cruiser was much like what the ancient Eldive had in our old home world before we conquered and ate them. The main planet in this ‘Solar System’ is called ‘Dirt.’ It must be good dirt, because there appears to be about seven billion people on their planet.”

  “Well done,” said the Overlord. “You know...I think I may just let you live, after all.”

  Bullig’s ear holes twitched. His plan had worked!

  “In fact,” mused the Overlord, “I think I will have you lead the attack into this ‘Solar System.’”

  Bullig’s ear holes twitched even more. His plan had worked even better than he had thought possible! He was going to get promoted to admiral and would direct the attack! He’d send in the cruisers to absorb the mines and then go in with the heavy forces to kill the humans. Life was great!

  “Yes,” continued the Overlord. “You know the system; you should lead.”

  Bullig would get his pick of the spoils! He could retire in comfort!

  “You know the way,” said the Overlord, making up his mind. “Therefore, you will lead the attack. You will command the first ship that goes through the stargate.”

  Bullig sighed. His life was over.

  Bridge, TSS Vella Gulf, Lacaille 8760, December 25, 2020

  “Good luck,” Captain Peotr Barishov said from the front view screen, “and Godspeed. We will hold the system until you return. Just don’t take too long, da?” The Russian captain commanded the TSS Septar, the battlecruiser acquired on the Vella Gulf’s second mission. Formerly a Ssselipsssiss warship, its crew had surrendered to the Terrans after the battleship Terra put a four-meter hole through its bridge, vaporizing its commanding officer.

  The Vella Gulf had rendezvoused with the Septar in Lacaille 8760, and Captain Sheppard had relayed Fleet Command’s instructions for the Septar to return to Earth at its best speed. It would be almost a week in transit, having to pass through both the Vulpecula 452 and Kapteyn’s Star systems. Until its return, there would not be any ships in the Solar System to defend Earth, a fact that had many politicians (and admirals) more than a little nervous. Not that the battlecruiser would do much to stop a battleship or dreadnought if one of them showed up.

  “Thanks,” replied Captain Sheppard, “and good luck to you as well. We’ll go as fast as we can. Vella Gulf out.” The view screen went black.

  The Septar was in many ways symbolic of what was both good and bad about the Republic of Terra, Captain Sheppard realized. When the Terrans brought the ship back to Earth, the nations had been unable to agree on a name for it; every politician wanted to name the battlecruiser after some aspect of their nation-state. The Terran government had finally decided to name the class of battlecruisers after oceans, but then couldn’t agree on which ocean to start with.

  Finally, the kuji representative from Domus said in frustration (after the third hour of argument), “Well if you can’t agree on one of your oceans, name it after ours. The Septar.” Her outburst caught everyone by surprise. Before anyone could say anything else, the human
oid princess from Domus called out, “I second that!” Recognizing a break in the impasse, everyone else agreed, and the ship was christened the TSS Septar. Although that took care of the problem at hand, it did nothing to solve the problem of what to call the next one.

  Many people left the meeting almost hoping that the Earth never built another one.

  The Republic of Terra was similar. While on the surface all of the nations appeared to go along with each other, that was just a thin veneer. The alliance was so new that trust had yet to form between the nations; it wouldn’t take much to pull them apart again. A nation born in war, the states of the Republic of Terra didn’t trust one another yet, and people still thought of themselves as members of their former nations first. Those that thought of themselves as Terrans usually only did so as a distant second. The new nation needed time for everyone to grow together.

  He wondered if they would get that time.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Six

  Enlisted Mess, TSS Vella Gulf, Lacaille 8760, December 25, 2020

  “Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh!” Calvin sang loudly, if not particularly well; the other 200 voices drowned him out so no one knew or cared whether he was on key or not. Being away from home on Christmas was always hard for military members, even if they were on a mission to save the planet. If it was the last Christmas that humanity was to experience, the men and women of the Vella Gulf would have liked to have spent it with their families.

  Recognizing that, Captain Sheppard had commissioned a sing-along to take everyone’s minds off of being away from home, and nearly all of the off duty personnel came to sing. Even the men and women from religions that didn’t celebrate Christmas seemed to enjoy the camaraderie.

  An outgrowth of the U.S. Navy, the Terran Space Fleet had kept most of the customs and traditions of that service, including the tradition of being ‘dry.’ No alcohol was allowed on board, except for a small amount kept under lock and key for ‘medicinal’ purposes. For Christmas, Captain Sheppard had decided morale needed a boost, and he had made an alcohol ration available; each member of the ship’s crew received two beers.

  Looking around the mess, Calvin decided that the (admittedly bad) singing and the (too few) beers had worked their magic; at least for a little while it looked like morale had improved. As he walked out of the mess, he saw that someone had made a Drakul doll and had hung it by a noose from the ceiling next to the door. Pinned to it was the note, ‘Merry Christmas, Drakul scum. Now die!’ That wasn’t really the kind of Christmas spirit that Calvin had grown up with, but he could appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Chapel, TSS Vella Gulf, 61 Cygni, December 28, 2020

  As the last bars of the recessional music finished playing, the congregation began filing out of the ship’s chapel. All except for one, Father Zuhlsdorf saw. Calvin remained seated in the second row.

  Calvin watched as the last person left the small room and then approached the chaplain where he stood waiting by the altar. “Can I help you with something?” asked Father Zuhlsdorf.

  Calvin looked troubled. His eyes searched the room before finally coming to rest on the chaplain. He sighed. “I don’t know, Father, but I hope so,” he said.

  Father Zuhlsdorf continued to wait patiently, allowing Calvin to get to what was bothering him in his own time.

  “You’re probably aware that I’m not a big church-goer,” Calvin said finally.

  “Well, I know that I haven’t seen you here many times previously,” the chaplain replied.

  The chaplain was being charitable; Calvin knew he had never attended mass on the Vella Gulf. “I’ve been a bit troubled lately,” Calvin said, before pausing again. “It’s this whole ‘hero spirit’ thing.”

  “I’ve heard the Psiclopes talking about that in the past,” Father Zuhlsdorf said. “I imagine that being an acknowledged hero is a lot of weight to bear...if you believe in it.”

  “That’s just it, Father,” said Calvin, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to believe. The Psiclopes are an advanced civilization; you would think that they ought to have all of this stuff figured out. They think that they can follow a spirit as it is reincarnated over and over, and that I was Zeus in a former life. And if that’s not bad enough, they’re pinning the whole survival of the Earth on me. They think that my actions will either save or destroy the Earth...and they believe that it’s more likely that I will fail.”

  “That is indeed a lot of pressure,” said Father Zuhlsdorf, “but once again, it’s only a lot of pressure if you believe it...”

  Calvin looked up at the chaplain.

  “...and I do not,” finished the chaplain.

  “You don’t?” asked Calvin.

  “Of course not,” replied the chaplain. “Their religion goes against many of the key tenets of my faith and what I believe.” He paused. “And that’s what it comes down to; it’s all a matter of faith and what you believe. What they believe isn’t what’s important; what’s important in your case is what you believe.” He paused again. “So Calvin, what do you believe?”

  Calvin sighed. “I’ve thought about it a lot since we left Earth, and I just don’t see how everything they say is possible. It sounds like the Psiclopes just make up stuff so that their people can feel good about the future. It’s a lot easier to live your life knowing that if things go badly, there’s always going to be someone that will come along to save you. In the end, I guess it really doesn’t matter. All I can do is all I can do, no more and no less, regardless of whether I am a normal human being or some ultra-powerful spirit. At the end of the day, all I can do is my best.”

  “That’s all we can ever do, my son,” replied the chaplain.

  “Thanks, Father,” Calvin said getting up. “That helps a lot.”

  Bridge, TSS Terra, Epsilon Eridani, December 31, 2020

  “Don’t come back with less than a dreadnought for me!” Captain Lorena Griffin joked. The commanding officer of the battleship TSS Terra, Captain Griffin was in charge of the largest ship in the Terran fleet. On the Vella Gulf’s last mission, the Mrowry had given the Terrans the battleship, as well as the Class 6 replicator that was assembling it, rather than blow them up to keep them from falling into the claws of the Ssselipsssiss.

  Although brand new and state-of-the-art, the Terra’s crew was as green as any battleship crew that had ever been to the stars. There were a few Mrowry advisors that had stayed with it to help bring the Terra’s crew up to speed, but they were few and far between. The Mrowry were going to stay until the next ship went back to Mrowry space, whenever that was. When they volunteered, they did so knowing that they were on extended duty...an extended duty that might very well result in a life sentence. It was a tribute to the leadership of their crown prince that when Captain Yerrow had said it was important and asked for volunteers, over half of the crew had volunteered.

  The Vella Gulf had just arrived in the Epsilon Eridani system, bringing with it the news of the attack on Earth and the Terra’s recall ‘at its fastest possible speed’ to aid in the Earth’s continued defense. As she gave the orders that would return the Terra to Earth, Captain Griffin said a silent prayer for the safe, speedy and successful return of the Vella Gulf, which would be continuing on in its search for aid against the Drakuls. While the Terra was an extremely capable ship, even with the addition of the Mrowry, its crew was still too green...far too green for what they would likely be called upon to do.

  Come home soon, Vella Gulf, she thought, and please bring friends.

  Cargo Bay, Shuttle 02, Domus Orbit, January 1, 2021

  Calvin looked around the back of the shuttle’s cargo compartment. In addition to several large pallets of materials to be used in the ship’s replicator, they were also returning to the Vella Gulf from the planet with several new members for the platoon and a combat cameraman.

  “Y’all strap in back there now, y’hear?” said
the shuttle pilot in a Southern drawl over the craft’s intercom system.

  Master Chief looked over to Calvin with a curious look on his face. “I thought a couple of the Domans were flying the shuttle,” said Master Chief. “Did someone else swap out?”

  Calvin sighed. “No,” he said. “The two crewmen are kuji. Unfortunately, someone introduced Tex to a recording of some country comedian and told him that, with a name like Tex, he needed to have a Southern drawl.” Calvin shook his head in disgust. “If I could find out who did that,” he added, “I’d cheerfully have him shot.”

  Master Chief nodded his head toward two people sitting in the back of the shuttle by themselves. “Please tell me those two aren’t another set of twins for the platoon,” he said. “The Gordon brothers are enough for one army, much less a single platoon.”

  Calvin leaned forward to see where Master Chief was looking. “No,” Calvin said. “Those two aren’t twins; they’re cousins. They just look alike. You don’t have to worry about them in any event. They’re part of the squadron, not the platoon.” He pulled up the roster in his head. “Their names are Sean and Phil Ventura. They are the second set of cousins we got in the squadron; I said the same thing when I saw the first set.” One of them punched the other. Hard. As they watched, the second Ventura punched the first one back. If anything, it was harder than the punch he had received. “Lieutenant Park Ji-hyun, who was here training them, said they fight all the time on the ground,” Calvin said, “but apparently they make a great team when you put them in the cockpit of a space fighter together. It’s almost like they can read each other’s minds.”