Altered Children

Everyone was picked up without a hitch and right on schedule. A quick journey to the admiral’s flagship—the Rostvar Cluster. Familiar passageways. Most of the Humans experienced déjà vu.

The meeting began with the admiral, his executive officer, the assault spacecraft carrier’s acting captain—formerly its executive officer, the destroyer escort squadron’s senior captain, and the captain of the Silkaran destroyer on station for the last six months.

Admiral teDanon presented the information they had on the flotilla on its way to rendezvous with them. Then, he described the six senior officers of the recently arrived Silkaran destroyer and each of the children selected one or two of those officers to monitor. The first part of the meeting took less than forty-five minutes. Finally, the new destroyer’s senior officers were brought in, and were stunned to see Humans in a meeting with Silkaran officers.

The Admiral introduced the destroyer’s officers to the Humans. He explained the Humans were present to discuss the adverse ramifications of the General Staff’s operations and how they could be avoided or ameliorated. The initial shock of seeing the Humans soon wore off. While the admiral’s loyal officers closely watched outward reactions of the new destroyer’s officers, the children scanned their minds for clues to what lay behind the views they espoused.

At the end of a half hour, Admiral teDanon asked the destroyer’s six officers to step into the adjoining compartment. When the master-at-arms escorted them into the passageway and to the compartment, the admiral posted a guard on the compartment’s hatch.

The Humans and Silkaran officers were convinced the newly arrived destroyer’s captain and weapons officer fully supported the General Staff’s operations. Also clear to them was the unmistakable opposition of the executive officer and engineering officer, and the serious doubts expressed by the administration and astro/navigation officers. The children assured everyone all four of these officers were relieved to see senior officers willing to challenge the General Staff.

On Admiral teDanon’s orders, the destroyer squadron’s senior captain relieved the newly arrived destroyer’s captain and weapons officer, replacing them with the executive officer and the assistant weapons officer respectively. The admiral placed the relieved officers under arrest and assigned an officer to reason with them over the next few days. The children gave a short demonstration of their paranormal abilities for the benefit of the freshly vetted officers. The admiral and Mack told them about the children’s intelligence and peaceful natures.

Except for the destroyer’s new captain, its officers who were loyal to the admiral and his goals were returned to their vessel. Those remaining in the conference room discussed the arrival of the Operation Chaos Flotilla and how the children could support the strategy and tactics needed to stop the operation without a battle.

Excited but tired, the Humans were brought back to Earth after an absence of nearly eleven hours.

It was Wednesday morning in Port Townsend. That same afternoon in Morocco. Kamal and his sister and parents joined Masanja and his parents and Munir in the conference room at the school near Mohrane, Morocco. Claire’s parents had come to the Australian school outside of Morisset to be with her, and late Wednesday evening had joined the school’s director in their conference room.

Jason and Yuriko were with Peter and their parents in one of the Discovery Bay school’s multi-media classrooms when Dennis and the others arrived. Mack Wallace had returned home to be with his wife, Roberta, and daughter Laura. They all were connected by audio and video via the Internet.

“So,” Jason said, “that’s the plan. Yuriko, Masanja, Claire, Kamal and I have already spoken with all the children who we thought should come on the mission. They are in full agreement and anxious to go.”

Mack chimed in. “We still need to talk to their parents. But it is really the best chance we have of stopping the flotilla from releasing the spores into our atmosphere.”

“And with ‘little or no bloodshed’,” Dennis added, “in the words of Admiral teDanon.”

Karen’s eyes glistened. “But . . . but why so many children?”

“Yes,” JoAnn said. “It’s so dangerous . . . they could be hurt . . . or worse.”

Mack gave a highly audible sigh. “Listen, people. This is a war. Not a shooting war—not yet anyway. But children have already been hurt . . . and killed. You haven’t forgotten Tom have you? There is an alien military force on its way here to do significant harm to our world. Thank God we have a friendly force willing to stand between them and us, because Earth cannot stop them by itself.

Admiral teDanon’s force will be outnumbered and outgunned . . . and he can’t beat them alone. But, we will have a surprise waiting for them. These children, all twenty-five who have been selected can make the difference. You know what three children managed to do a year ago in their escape attempt, and what five of them did last month to help the admiral avert a mutiny. Think about what twenty-five of these children can do.”

There had been no interruption while Mack spoke, and silence reigned for nearly a minute once he’d stopped. Then Mack added something else. “Four of us will be going with them—primarily as chaperons and for emotional support. We certainly won’t be much good for anything else.” In addition to the three US military men, a former Australian Army captain had joined the group.

“We’ll have to convene an emergency session of the executive board to approve our decision here,” Dennis said. “Four members are in this meeting so that should not be difficult.”

“We have to make sure the parents of those other twenty children will go along with it,” Karen reminded everyone,

“My mother asks how we decided on twenty-five children,” Kamal prompted. “I had no time to explain to them.” Munir had made sure the AutoTran software was running in Arabic-English mode so Aisha and Rachid could communicate more easily.

Jason responded. “First, we talked with the admiral regarding the oncoming flotilla—the number and types of vessels, their complements and armament, and their senior officers. Captain Wallace knew exactly what to ask.”

“Admiral teDanon had just received information on the flotilla from his superiors,” Masanja told them excitedly.

“Then,” Claire said, we made an educated guess about what capabilities we would need to deal with the flotilla, based on that information and what we learned during the recent mutiny and from what Tom, Dione and Luci described a year ago.”

Yuriko continued. “Finally, we five children reviewed all the children’s abilities.”

“We came up with twenty-five children to be divided among the admiral’s three ships,” Jason explained. “Maybe five assigned to each destroyer and fifteen to his flagship—the carrier. We think ten of those fifteen should go with Admiral teDanon when he meets the flotilla’s commander. Then, if the admiral can’t convince him to cancel the action against Earth, we make him yield command of the flotilla to Admiral teDanon.”

“Those fifteen not joining the admiral will be in reserve in case they any of them are needed,” Masanja interjected.

Kamal added, “We contacted all the children who had already been identified as the strongest in clairvoyance, telepathy or telekinesis, and got volunteers. All of them wanted to go—anxious to go, actually.”

“We also made sure the children we selected would not have the same empathic problems Yuriko had before,” Claire assured everyone.

“So,” Jason noted, “we agreed Adèle Foucher, Yuriko Nishikawa, Carlos Clemente, and Marsha Littlefield won’t be going. They’re too sensitive to the emotions of people whose minds they’re in. It’ll be too hard on them and they probably won’t be effective.”

“I am working on it and getting it under control,” Yuriko announced. “But I don’t want to jeopardize those who may face another fight.”

“Mack, you’re a senior officer,” Claire’s father said. “How realistic are these plans?”

Mack replied slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Knowing these children as I do . . . and from what the admiral told us, . . . very realistic. Fifteen in reserve on Admiral teDanon’s warships in case something unexpected develops is good contingency planning.”

“The children’s paranormal abilities are now much stronger than before,” Karen added. “Twenty-five—even ten—of them working together are truly a force to be reckoned with.”

“The admiral will notify us when he’s been given the flotilla’s ETA,” Dennis said.

Mack added, “Everyone should be ready to be picked up and taken to the admiral’s ships a week before the flotilla arrives. We want to be ready early for this, and there will be some last minute planning with the admiral and his staff.”

“Check your emails. You’ve all got your list of parents to call. So, if there’s nothing else,” Dennis urged them, “let’s get busy with those calls. And then let’s prepare to update everyone in next Sunday’s regular videoconference.”

Mindful of the inexorable and unfriendly passage of time, they pushed forward with all due haste. But it still required three days to contact the parents of the other twenty children on their primary list. Some parents were hesitant or unwilling to let their children go along. Mack was instrumental in convincing all but two of them—by the force of his arguments and because he’d already suffered the death of his son, Tom, at the hands of the aliens.

Anna and her mother had recently returned from attending Gino’s funeral in New York and dealing with the additional trauma of deciding what property to sell, give away or take with them. Everybody showed compassion and understanding toward them. Carla was in no shape to have her daughter go on the mission. Nor was Anna for that matter. Actually, Anna was exceedingly well suited to work with Peter and Yuriko to coordinate the efforts to maintain mind links between the children remaining on Earth and those joining Admiral teDanon’s flotilla.

Dennis scheduled separate conference calls with the reluctant parents of the last two children. He’d speak from his office at the Discovery Bay school in Washington, Claire and her parents would join in from the school in Australia, and Mack would participate from his Virginia residence. Together, they would try one last time to persuade the unenthusiastic parents to allow their children to go on the mission.

Their first call was to the Argentinean girl’s parents.

“We have not changed our minds on this,” Violeta’s mother said. “Violeta is our only child. It’s much too dangerous.”

Claire’s mother responded first. “Please believe me. Claire’s father and I are worried and frightened too. But millions of people are in grave danger if something isn’t done. We would gladly risk our own lives to stop this horror, which will happen unless someone acts to stop it.

“Though there is nothing we can do, our wonderful daughter, Claire, can do something. She has abilities few people have . . . abilities Violeta also has. Claire’s already demonstrated she is prepared for this awesome responsibility. She and the other children believe Violeta is ready for it. She’s really important to the mission’s success.”

Claire tugged at her mother’s sleeve. Her mother nodded and leaned back. “Ma’am, this is Claire. I’ve been up there with the aliens three times now. There are some very decent ‘blokes’ who want to help us. But the situation is, without our participation they may not be able to stop those who are coming to attack our world.”

Violeta’s father broke in. “We appreciate all that. But there must be another child who is better suited. Violeta has never been away from us before. Maybe someone who has been to a camp or on a school trip, who’s more independent than Violeta.”

“Don’t underestimate Violeta,” Claire said. “Some of us have worked with her before. She is stronger than you think. If Violeta doesn’t join us, then a child has to take her place, one who we think may not be as effective as Violeta. Yes, we are children. Yes, there is risk. But we are the only ones who can do something. Ask yourselves this question: if not us, who?”

“And if we decide against letting Violeta go?” her father asked.

“We’ll get a different child to do it,” Mack replied. “Violeta will not go unless you allow her to.”

At home, Violeta jumped up and put her arm around her mother’s shoulder. She spoke to her parents so everyone could hear. “I know you’re afraid for me. But I must do this. I can do this. I am older in my soul and my mind than in my body. It’s my decision.”

“Violeta!” her mother cried out. “We are your parents and must decide what is right for you. You still have to do as we say.”

Violeta sat down again, put her head in her hands and began to cry. “If you don’t . . . allow me to go, . . . I will run away from here.” She stood up straight, wiped her eyes and looked at her parents with determination in her eyes. “You know you cannot keep me here if I choose to leave. I’ll find one of the children’s families who will take me in and accept me fully for who I am and what I am. I love you both, but I will leave.”

“Leave us alone for now,” Violeta’s father declared. “Our family will discuss this further—in private—and give you our decision shortly.” He hung up.

“Well, I’ll be!” Dennis Murphy exclaimed, his eyes wide in surprise.

“Don’t be ‘gobsmacked’,” Claire’s mother told him. “Their attitude is perfectly normal. It’s not an easy decision for a parent to make. We’re still afraid for Claire.”

Claire’s father coughed and cleared his throat. “Claire is strong-willed and very grown up for her age—as are all these kids.”

“‘Too right, mate!’” Mack chortled. “Claire, ‘strine’ must be contagious. I’m beginning to talk like you Aussies.”

After polite laughter died down, Claire’s father continued. “As I was saying, we believe in Claire and agreed to let her do what she feels she must do.”

“I’m awfully lucky me ‘oldies’ are so understanding,” Claire said.

“All right, people,” Dennis declared. “Enough procrastination. Let’s make that last call.”

It was not long before Miklós’ father was on the line. “As we said before,” he proclaimed, “Miklós is our eldest son and cannot go because it’s too dangerous. And, he’s needed here to help us with the farm when his schooling is finished. Miklós will inherit our farm as all the eldest sons have done for more than six generations.”

Mack, Claire and the others gave Miklós’ family the same arguments they had used with Violeta’s family, to little avail.

“I tell you now,” Miklós’ father pledged, “if you continue to insist on our son’s involvement, I will go to the press and the authorities about this whole foundation thing. My wife has a cousin in one of the ministries and he will believe us.”

Dennis’ heart raced and perspiration began to moisten his forehead. “I’m sorry we couldn’t agree on this, but we all understand your feelings and the needs of your family. We will replace your son on the mission.” He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Please don’t do anything rash. It is too critical to all of us, and to Earth.”

“Thank you for hearing us out,” Mack said, just before Miklós’ father hung up. “Dennis, he doesn’t seem to have the slightest idea of who his son is or what he’s capable of doing.”

Jason looked up and shook his head. “It’s a shame. Miklós has his own goals and doesn’t really want the farm. He wants his younger brother to have it.”

“They could become a problem we’ll have to deal with,” Dennis proclaimed, “but not now. Jason, Claire, do you have a replacement in mind?”

“We selected several alternates in case it became necessary,” Claire replied.

“This kind of reaction was not unexpected,” Jason added.

The call to the first back-up boy’s parents went much more smoothly, and successfully.

Violeta and her parents had hashed it out for over an hour. Then, with great trepidation, her parents accepted the inevitable and consented. Violeta’s mother called and told Dennis of their decision. Now they had their twenty-five children.

Violeta informed Claire and Jason telepathically she would be joining them.

“Claire, what’s the admiral like?” Violeta asked.

“He’s softer than he lets on.” Claire answered. “His voice is a little raspy and gruff, but his smile could charm the horns off a bull.”

After discussing with Claire and Jason what information would most help them deal with the flotilla, Mack contacted Admiral teDanon. He requested an update on the warships expected in the flotilla, and on the senior officers of each vessel. As soon as it was received and recorded, all the information they had gathered was posted on a special area of the children’s website, where it appeared to be part of one of their games.

Mack, the other three military men, and the children going on the mission reviewed the data and learned as much as they could about the expected opposition force.

Admiral teDanon also informed Mack that, as an extra safety measure, buoys had been distributed in strategic locations in the solar system. The buoys were laden with sensors adjusted to detect the arrival of the Operation Chaos flotilla. They would also identify each vessel based upon its transponder signal.

Since relocation, the children had found it easier to work together to monitor the four problem children they had discovered during the previous year, though contacts with the two in Brazil and India were sporadic at best. On September second, Mary Roberts, with the help of several children now at the Moroccan school, contacted Alain Lovett telepathically.

“What do you want?” Alain questioned. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“We know, Alain,” Mary replied. “We’ve been checking on you. But that isn’t why I’m talking to you now.”

“Okay. What do you want?”

“Get on your computer, and check out this website.” Mary gave Alain the URL for the children’s website. “Do it now. Tell me if you can’t figure out the password,” she suggested in a challenging tone.

Since it was early evening, Alain was already doing homework on his computer. It required less then a minute for him to open the first page of the website, obtain the password, and log in. “Got in, didn’t I? Thought I couldn’t get the password, what?”

“We reckoned you would,” Mary answered. “Would’ve been surprised if you failed. Now read for awhile. I’ll be back in touch in an hour.”

An hour later, Mary easily got Alain’s attention. “So, Alain, what d’you think?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you all before. I’ve been such an arse!”

“I’ll say. Well, are you interested or not?”

“God, yes,” Alain said enthusiastically. “What do I have to do?”

“We’ve got it all worked out. First, start complaining of headaches. Tell your teachers you’re having trouble with blurred vision. Make yourself sick and throw up a few times. Then, you should be able to get your doctor to order a CAT scan—not an MRI—you got that?”

“Yeah, right. I ‘twig’ it. Have to get that tracker out of me head.” Alain was one of the few children who had not been processed through an imaging center.

“Right. Get your doctor and your parents to check out the website. Oh, there’s a doctor in Manchester—a neurologist—who worked with some of us. He knows what this is all about. He’s listed on the website. Have your parents and doctor talk with him.”

Alain’s roommate glanced at the web page displayed on Alain’s computer screen. “Hey, what’s this website? I’ve never—”

“Quiet, Ronnie!” Alain barked. “I’m real busy right now. Workin’ on a special project.” He quickly exited from the website.

“Mary?”

“Yes, still here.”

“Good. When can I meet those aliens who’ve been messing with us?”

“I’m sure you will in time. Just give it a chance. You’ve got a lot to catch up on before you meet them, . . . and we need to get you here to our school in Morocco first.”

Within two weeks, Alain had a CAT scan. From there, everything progressed as the children had planned. Alain’s parents and doctor talked first with the neurologist in Manchester, who explained about removing the device implanted in Alain’s brain. Then, they spoke with Munir Ben Nafi, who invited them to Mohrane to see the school, meet with him and some of the staff and children, and described the benefits in relocating.

They could move to Morocco, or even to Italy or Spain as some European parents had done. Once Alain’s parents realized what was going on, they agreed to send Alain to the school and support the foundation. Though they wouldn’t be able to relocate, they promised to visit Alain regularly.

On September twelve, Admiral teDanon received a message from the General Staff confirming the expected date and time for the arrival of Operation Chaos’ flotilla—the twenty-second of September. Admiral teDanon contacted Dennis and asked him to have everyone available for pick-up in three days. That would give them a week to prepare for their rendezvous with the flotilla.

Wednesday, the fifteenth of September came quickly. Mack was ready to leave for the airport and his morning flight to Seattle, where the van from the Discovery Bay school would pick him up. “Well, I guess I’m off on another mission. I’ll call you when I get to the school.”

“Dad, I’m scared,” his daughter, Laura, said. “Do you really have to go?”

Mack knelt down and kissed her. “Darlin’, I really do. It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

Roberta put her arm around Laura. “Mack, I know you have to do this and how important it is to all of us. But this is different. You’ve been in the navy a long time, and on many tours . . . but never in a shooting war.” She pointed upward. “You’ve only been up there twice—and you know what happened the first time.”

“I could say ‘don’t worry’ but I know you will. All I can tell you is, with these children . . . I know it will turn out okay.”

“Just take care of yourself, and let us know as soon as you get back.” Roberta threw her arms around her husband. They kissed deeply and held each other in a firm embrace. Roberta held back tears as she stepped away from Mack.

Mack picked up his duffel bag and walked out the door to the sound of soft sobbing from his daughter. He entered the taxi, and looked back at his family watching him from the window as the taxi pulled away from the curb.

Jason felt lucky because he was one of the children who could spend time home with their family before they went on the mission. He sat on the front porch swing with Yuriko following a pleasant, though early, dinner with his parents, his brother Peter, Anna and Carla Burgio, Yuriko and her parents, and two of the Starkeys’ closest friends—Albert and Irene Cohen, who’d been caught up in the whole thing from its start nine years earlier.

The thought occurred to Jason that he might not see his home again for some time. But, he brushed aside his anxieties and felt Yuriko’s presence engulf him in mellowness, then reached over and took her hand.

“I wish I could go,” Yuriko said.

“Me too,” he replied. “But you need to work more on toning down your sensitivity. Being sensitive is good, but not if it hinders you from taking effective action.”

“I know, but . . . I still wish . . . ” her voice trailed off.

“I’m glad you’ll be here—safe,” he told her as she tightened the grip on his hand.

Yuriko looked at him, furrowing her brow. “Nothing bad will happen, will it?”

“I . . . I don’t think so. I believe we’ll be able to take control of the new flotilla without anyone getting hurt. The last time, with four of us working together . . . we found out what we can do, and we’ve learned so much in the short time since then.”

“Yes, I know,” Yuriko admitted.

Jason noticed a tear running down her face. “Don’t forget, Yuri-chan, we’re going to have time to practice with some of the admiral’s crew. We’ll be ready after that,” he assured her.

His mother, Dorothy, came out on the porch. “It’s almost time, honey. Better say goodbye.”

Yuriko and Jason got off the swing. Yuriko pulled Jason to her and they hugged each other tightly. Their two hearts beat as one. She gave him a quick peck on his cheek and ran inside the house.

Peter came outside with Jason’s bag, followed by their parents. Anna and Carla, and Yuriko and her parents, joined them. Irene and Al Cohen popped out, said goodbye, then gave Jason a hug and wished him good luck. They drove Anna and Carla, who was still staying with her daughter, to the school before going home. Jason and his family, and Yuriko and her family strolled slowly to the SUV parked in the driveway. Peter and Yuriko were returning to the school, while Yuriko’s parents would be spending the night with Howard and Dorothy.

Howard drove the three miles to the school from their home in Kala Point, and parked in front of the administration building. Everyone exited the car. Jason picked up his bag and turned to go into the building. Peter punched his brother in the arm, grinned and said, “Don’t forget, a bunch of us here will be trying to maintain contact with you all as long as possible. Give ’em hell, bro.”

Jason smiled and went to the main door. He spun around and waved to everyone before he entered the building. He headed to the room where the children who had been selected for the mission from this school were gathering, opened the door and stepped in. Mack Wallace, the US Air National Guard lieutenant and the retired US Army sergeant, who’d arrived at the school a short time before, were getting ready to conduct a briefing. They reviewed what they knew about the oncoming flotilla—vessels, armament, officers, and crew.

After the briefing, they got as comfortable as possible and waited for the shuttle to collect them. Late in the evening, at the appointed time, those who were familiar with it felt a telltale resonance in the air. Soon all could hear the humming of the arriving shuttle.

They went outside. Most of them had never seen an alien spacecraft before and were awed by the sight of what looked a little like the top half of a truncated, sixty-foot long football. Watching it land they heard a soft thump when its extended struts touched down on the hard ground in the clearing behind the school’s buildings.

Pickups from Morocco and Australia occurred before dawn and late afternoon respectively, witnessed only by people at the schools. It helped that the sites of both schools were in remote areas and the entire process required little more than a quarter of an hour.

While en route to the carrier, the children in the three shuttles communicated telepathically. With the admiral’s permission, they practiced their ability to control the minds of the shuttles’ crews.

Admiral teDanon and several officers and petty officers were in the hangar bay to welcome the Humans upon their arrival. Over the next half-hour, greetings were exchanged and introductions made. The children who were onboard for the first time looked around in amazement, particularly the sight of the aliens working on spacecraft. Sweaty odors from alien bodies impinged upon them as they passed nearby. Scents of familiar lubricants and unknown substances wafted through the hangar deck.

The Administration Division sub-commander and several of her petty officers took the Humans to their quarters so they could refresh themselves and rest.

The first planning session was held in Flight Crew Ready Room Two, normally used by the pursuit squadrons. The compartment had stadium seating, though the slope was not steep. It could accommodate forty people comfortably and was filled with the Humans, the medical unit’s former second in command—a sub-commander who’d replaced Commander geWaxted—two other officers and the crews of the two shuttles that would be used to ferry the teams to the arriving flotilla.

Finally everyone settled down. Admiral teDanon cleared his throat and stepped to a lectern at the left of a large viewing screen. “Shall we get to it? We expect the flotilla to consist of an assault spacecraft carrier similar to the Cluster, one cruiser and five destroyers.” He nodded to his executive officer who had been leaning on the lectern at the right side of the screen.

One by one, pictures and diagrams of the spacecraft appeared as Captain Borgo geMilot spoke. “Silkaran assault carriers are 300 meters in length and crewed by 448, including officers. The cruiser is 175 meters long with a crew of 196. Each destroyer is 100 meters long, and has a crew of 84. Besides the carrier, the cruiser could be our only real problem.

“We have identified four plausible scenarios.” Four brief bulleted descriptions flashed on the screen. “During the next five or six days we will run through each of them and have a debriefing session following each run.”

As the admiral and his executive officer described each scenario, descriptive text displayed on the monitor displays spread around the compartment and an animated three-dimensional holographic computer simulation appeared in a transparent sphere at the front of the compartment showing various configurations and confrontations between the two flotillas.

In one scenario, a shuttle moving from the admiral’s flagship toward the newly arrived vessels flashed and was gone. The Humans watched and listened intently and raised a few questions. The presentation was finished in less than forty-five minutes.

Mack raised his hand and stood. “Have you determined which scenarios are most likely?”

“Yes,” Captain geMilot replied. He pointed to the list he displayed once more. “The scenarios you saw earlier are listed in order of their probability of occurring.”

“Will we have time to run through them all?” the former Australian Army captain asked.

“Yes. The one we expect to happen we will practice twice,” the executive officer said. “The others, . . . one time only.”

Admiral teDanon looked around. “Two full runs each day allows time to correct for errors and a day at the end to rest before the flotilla arrives. I know that sounds like a lot to do, but we need the practice—I assure you.”

For the next four days, they rehearsed scenarios using the carrier to represent the Operation Chaos Flotilla’s flagship. The children were rotated in their practice assignments to determine who was best suited for each of the roles to be played when the flotilla arrived. The children’s two primary roles were to identify officers who they considered intractable and, as required, to exercise control over officers commanding key divisions.

After the final run, the admiral and his executive officer discussed the final assignments with Mack, the other Human military men and the children. Based on their joint assessment, they allocated nineteen children to the spacecraft carrier and three to each of the two destroyers in Admiral teDanon’s flotilla.

“Children, we are putting a tremendous burden on you,” Admiral teDanon said. “Are you ready, and comfortable, with all we are asking of you?”

Jason acted as the children’s spokesperson a majority of the time. This was no exception. “Sir, we are ready. We have memorized all the possible alternatives and know exactly what we have to do in each situation.”

“Additionally,” Kamal added, “we will be in close contact with each other so we can adjust to changing circumstances.”

“It appears we are ready,” the admiral said. “May the great gods of Roshna guide and protect us all.”

Jason, Claire, Zahra, Kamal, Kathy and another child were assigned to Team A, which would join Admiral teDanon and the two officers going to the Operation Chaos Flotilla’s flagship to meet with its senior officers. Six children, including Henri, Tanya, Rafael, and Masanja, would be on a second shuttle with two officers as part of Team B. Admiral teDanon had arranged for the second shuttle to pick up supplies from the carrier so it would be expected.

Throughout the period of training and rehearsal, the children in the flotilla kept the children on Earth up-to-date by telepathy, made easy by the combined strength of the many minds on Earth linked together with the help of Anna, Peter and Yuriko. Mack used a ship’s communicator to update Dennis and the foundation.

As the hour for second-meal approached on September 22, Admiral teDanon was called by the chief sensortech in the carrier’s OIIC—Object Information and Identification Center.

“Admiral,” she said, “the flotilla, has just entered normal space from hyperspace near the orbit of the fifth planet, forty-five degrees above the ecliptic. Their transponder signals identified the vessels as an assault spacecraft carrier, one cruiser and five destroyers, as expected.”

“How are they configured?”

“Defense Pattern ‘Triangle 5-B’, sir. They are at Alert Status Two.”

“As I would have done. Show it on my tactical holo.” At least weapons are not armed or loaded. Admiral teDanon looked at the hologram. It showed a destroyer in front, followed by the cruiser, the carrier and another destroyer at the rear, in a linear formation. Three destroyers were in the standard triangular configuration surrounding the gap between the cruiser and the carrier. One destroyer was above the gap. There was one at each point of the base of an equilateral triangle, the base being slightly below the line of the main formation.

Admiral teDanon drummed his fingers on his desk. “Inform the officer of the deck here and on our destroyers and tell them to announce their arrival.”

Admiral teDanon disconnected and opened a different communications channel. “XO, the time is near. Have the two teams brought back to the ready room in two hours. Give them the final briefing and wait there until you are called.” Then he gave the command to get underway and take up their planned position near the flotilla.

Minutes later, the admiral in command of the Operation Chaos flotilla contacted Admiral teDanon informing him of their arrival and inviting him to come aboard his flagship, the assault carrier Vartrop Nebula, in four hours to coordinate their upcoming actions.

“Bring your executive officer and chief medical officer along,” the flotilla’s commander stated. “I want them in the meeting.”

“Yes, sir, I will see to it,” Admiral teDanon promised. “You know, it has been a long time since our tour with the Third Fleet. Maybe we will have time to reminisce. It will be good to see you again, Dalotu.”

“Hmm . . . fourteen years, Spuvi. Yes, that would be good. I am looking forward to it.”

“My flotilla is moving sunward of you into optimum position for shuttle transfer,” Admiral teDanon said.

“Acknowledged.”

“By the way, I would like to bring several of the Human children along. I think, considering what we are about to do, you should meet them.”

“Excuse me, but that is not a good idea. It will only make our unpleasant task more difficult.”

Admiral teDanon smiled. Thank you, Dalotu, for this modicum of empathy, he thought. “I have my reasons. Please trust me.”

Admiral Dalotu gePetral raised his eyebrows. “Well, Spuvi, how many of those children are you thinking of bringing here?”

“A few. You need not be concerned. They are children, not a team of commandos.”

They both chuckled. “As you say. All right, bring them along. But they are to remain in the hangar deck . . . under guard. I will meet them there.”

“Cautious as always, Dalotu. Of course, you are correct—and you are the senior officer.”

Admiral teDanon disconnected from his former Third Fleet crewmate. He closed his eyes, caressed the amulet he wore around his neck and sat for a moment. Then he told his steward to lay out his Grade B uniform and called Captain geMilot in the number two flight crew ready room. “XO, it is nearly time. I will be there shortly to brief everyone.”

The children and the US Air National Guard lieutenant and former Australian Army captain who had been assigned to the destroyers were ferried to their respective vessels.

Briefing over, the two loaded shuttles exited from the Rostvar Cluster’s brightly-lit hangar bay into black space. The Operation Chaos’ flotilla was barely visible some twenty kilometers distant. Team B’s shuttle hung back as the flag shuttle shot off for the flotilla’s carrier flagship. The flag shuttle passed the destroyer stationed at the one-hundred-twenty-degree vertical position off the port beam of the Vartrop Nebula. Admiral teDanon told the pilot of Team B’s shuttle to come ahead and it followed the flag shuttle toward the larger flotilla.

The flag shuttle entered the carrier’s shuttle hangar bay and made its way to its assigned berth. After the locking clamps were engaged, Admiral teDanon and his officers strode down the ramp. The flotilla’s commander, executive officer and the carrier’s captain extended a formal welcome. The children aboard the shuttle were viewing those officers through the minds of Admiral teDanon and his two accompanying officers.

As introductions were being made on the flotilla’s flagship, Team B’s shuttle approached the flotilla’s outer defensive boundary. The sensortech on the destroyer monitoring that sector of the flotilla’s defensive perimeter did a double take at the reading on his life-signs sensor. He called to the chief sensortech. “Hey, Chief, come here and look at this reading.” Pointing to one of the readouts, he added, “We have detected six Jerithans on the shuttle.”

“Tell them to stop and hold their position,” the chief instructed him.

The sensortech opened communications with the shuttle. “This is the destroyer off your port beam at one-one-five degrees vertical. Stop and hold your position.”

The shuttle’s pilot slowed but did not stop. “We are having trouble hearing you. But yes, we have permission to go to the carrier for supplies.”

Then the destroyer’s chief sensortech called the captain. “Sir, the shuttle pilot seems to be having problems with reception . . . or so he says. They have slowed, but are not stopping. What are your instructions?”

“Follow standard rules of engagement for this mission. Go to Alert Status One. Contact the weapons officer and lock in your computers. I will call the shuttle.” The captain switched his communicator to the appropriate frequency. “This is the captain of the destroyer off your port beam. I am ordering you to stop at the outer boundary. Your system should detect it by now.”

Admiral teDanon and his officers had anticipated this situation during their planning sessions and practice runs. However, they were unaware of what was unfolding while they were delayed by formal greetings and introductions. The children in Team B were filling in the children in Team A on the flag shuttle, as the destroyer’s captain tried to contact Admiral gePetral to confirm his orders. The officers were startled to see the admiral’s orderly running to him with a communicator.

“Admiral, there is an urgent message from the captain of the SUD31.”

“Excuse me,” Admiral gePetral said, “while I take this.” He moved away a few steps, talking on his communicator. He returned to the group a short time later, with a perplexed look. He told them what the destroyer’s captain had reported. “Admiral teDanon, do you know what is going on here?”

Before Admiral teDanon could answer, Team B’s shuttle crossed the flotilla’s outer defensive boundary. The destroyer’s captain followed their rules of engagement and ordered a torpedo to be shot across the shuttle’s bow. At the same time, Team A’s children were trying to get into the minds of the flotilla’s senior officers who stood just outside the shuttle.

“Jason,” Zahra said telepathically, “I’m having trouble with the carrier’s captain . . . not enough time to get familiar with his thought patterns.”

“We’re all having the same problems,” Jason replied as he attempted to control the mind of the flotilla’s admiral. “Their excited mental state doesn’t help either, but keep at it.”

Admiral teDanon answered the question posed by Admiral gePetral moments before. “Sir, there are no Jerithans aboard the shuttle. There must be a mistake. It has permission to berth here to pick up supplies.”

When the torpedo exploded—harmlessly a thousand meters in front of Team B’s shuttle—the pilot brought their defensive shields to full strength.

The flotilla’s commander, his executive officer and the Vartrop Nebula’s captain suddenly froze, became quiet and stared blankly straight ahead.

On the bridge of the destroyer SUD31, the captain’s Comm-link with the object information and identification center beeped and the chief sensortech’s voice was heard loud and clear. “Captain, the shuttle’s shields have been raised to full strength.”

“Thank you, Chief. Stand by for orders.” The captain contacted the communications center. “Comm, raise the flagship. Tell them the shuttle’s shields were raised to full. Then get me Admiral gePetral—now!”

A few moments passed before the communications center came back. “Sorry, sir, we are unable to make contact with any senior officers on the flagship.”

The destroyer’s captain sat in his command chair for three seconds rubbing his forehead. No more time . . . I cannot wait, he thought before he told his weapons officer. “Lieutenant, charge the plaser canons.”

Jason contacted Masanja aboard the Team B shuttle. “Masanja, bring the shuttle in. We finally have control of the senior officers over here.”

While Jason tried to direct the flotilla’s commander to order the destroyer’s captain to allow Team B’s shuttle to proceed, Zahra worked on the carrier’s captain to achieve the same end. At the same time, the other four children in Team A were absorbed in keeping the rest of the senior officers on the carrier from interfering.

Simultaneously with Team A’s efforts, the children in Team B aboard their shuttle tried desperately to enter the minds and take control of the destroyer’s captain and senior officers. Team B had far greater difficulty overcoming the problems confronting them than those the children of Team A had faced in dealing with the carrier’s officers.

As they attempted to identify and lock onto the minds of the destroyer’s officers, the shuttle crossed the flotilla’s inner defensive boundary. The destroyer’s plaser canons were still not charged sufficiently to fire, but its automatic fire control system shot another torpedo—this time directly at the shuttle.

“Incoming torpedo detected,” the Team B shuttle’s flight engineer called out, as he released decoys and chaff. In the blink of an eye, the children aboard communicated telepathically and flew into action.

“Stop what you’re doing! We must try to push the torpedo away,” Henri told the other five children in Team B.

The torpedo bypassed the shuttle’s countermeasures. It headed directly for the shuttle, but then began to veer off.

Moments later Masanja burst out with, “It’s working!”

“I do not understand what is diverting the torpedo from its course,” the shuttle co-pilot said. “It was definitely not our countermeasures.”

“Must have been targeted on our transponder,” the flight engineer suggested.

The torpedo suddenly emitted a strong electromagnetic pulse, overwhelming the shuttle’s shield and control systems, but not its fusion-powered plasma engine. Then, a bright flash lit up the shuttle’s cockpit and rear cabin. The shuttle shook from the impact of blast energy from the powerful gravity wave generated by the matter/anti-matter reaction. It was designed to pound an enemy vessel with weak or disabled shields and cause it to rupture, which would have happened had not the children pushed the torpedo far enough away to significantly reduce its effects.

Two of the children and one of the officers standing in the rear cabin were thrown by the concussion against consoles and then to the deck. All three suffered bruises and abrasions. Tanya Prokasky, from Russia, suffered a broken right arm. Rafael Lopez, from Costa Rica, had two broken ribs.

The shuttle’s emergency system came online and began powering up the shield once again. The shield had not gained sufficient strength when several small pieces of shrapnel struck.

“We have a hole through the inner skin of the rear cabin,” the engineer shouted over the intercom. “Everyone into the cockpit until the hole is sealed.”

They crammed into the cockpit while the engineer shut off the air supply to the rear cabin and the co-pilot shut and secured the hatch between the cabins. In a minute’s time, the engineer said, “We are lucky the hole was small enough for the automatic sealers to affect repair. Very little air was lost. You can all return to the cabin.”

“We are retreating to the outer boundary,” the pilot told everyone. “At least . . . until we are invited to come ahead.”

“The shuttle reversed course and is moving back to the outer boundary,” the destroyer’s chief sensortech reported to his captain.

The captain ordered a cease-fire and instructed everyone to return to Alert Status Two. Then he called the weapons control center. “What happened with that torpedo?”

“We are looking into it, sir,” the chief weapons specialist replied. “Right now we do not know. It should have hit the shuttle. Our new targeting system ignored their decoys and chaff.”

The captain disconnected, shook his head and watched from his command chair as the shuttle moved back behind the outer boundary.

While the destroyer and shuttle completed their dance, Team A’s children took control of the senior officers aboard the carrier. Jason directed the flotilla’s admiral to order the flotilla to stand down, and allow Team B’s shuttle to come aboard and the team to disembark, and then to treat the injured. Soon Admiral teDanon’s teams were in control of the flotilla.

Admiral teDanon met privately with the flotilla’s commander. Admiral gePetral had accepted the General Staff’s orders regarding Operation Chaos, but was apprehensive concerning his role in it. He was a career officer who believed in the chain of command and following orders. In his twenty-two years of distinguished service he followed those orders to the letter. Some orders, however, had made him uncomfortable and wonder if there was some point at which he should refuse an order.

The two admirals sat quietly on the small sofa in Admiral gePetral’s quarters. After nearly a minute, Admiral gePetral said, “Well Spuvi, are you going to tell me what is going on?”

Admiral teDanon sighed. “First Dalotu, let me apologize most deeply to you for deceiving you. It will soon become clear why I cannot let you execute Operation Chaos. From your previous comments, it seems to me you had some misgivings about it. Am I wrong?”

“No . . . not really. This operation was never explained fully to my satisfaction. I have had to follow orders I did not like or agree with before. It was assigned to me . . . and is my responsibility to execute.”

“Dalotu, the objective of Operation Pacify may have been well meant, and I supported it in the beginning. In fact I was our league military attaché and was there with our ambassador when the resolution to quarantine Jeritha failed to pass the executive council. The damage—”

Admiral gePetral interrupted. “The General Staff insists they have evidence Jeritha—”

“Excuse me Dalotu,” Admiral teDanon said, holding his hand up indicating silence. “Please believe me, but I know all the arguments the General Staff has used to circumvent the failure of their resolution and the claims they have made to justify Operation Pacify. Their evidence was spurious at best, their motives questionable.

“They created Operation Chaos in desperation, more to save their skins then anything else. I am certain they hoped that once it was executed, the government would be forced to support them. There is no way to excuse the damage the operation would do to the economy and people of Jeritha. And for anyone to take part in it is reprehensible.”

“But orders are orders, Spuvi. To disobey them is a violation of our code at best and mutiny at worst.”

“The General Staff has acted in violation of the league charter, as well as the laws and the Declaration of the Silkar Union. The issue to resolve is where the higher authority lies. You would not follow the orders of your superior officer if it contradicted the orders of an officer senior to him, would you, Dalotu?”

“No, of course not. But the military code—”

“—is not our highest authority,” Admiral teDanon said, interrupting Admiral gePetral. “The league and the Silkaran Declaration are higher. I, as a majority in our military, never spent time to learn much about how the various league members operate their military forces. At least, not until recently.

“Most of the Jeritha’s armed forces recognize their military codes are subservient to their civilian laws. Those codes provide the right to disobey unlawful and unethical orders. I have since discovered the other league members have the same guidelines. Maybe it is time to revise our outdated code.”

Admiral gePetral had been chewing his upper lip and now stopped. “And in the meantime, what? Disobey orders? Mutiny?”

“It is the General Staff who are committing mutiny, if not treason. Following their unethical orders is a choice you make, and you must take responsibility for the consequences. You can say ‘it was their decision; they are responsible; I just followed orders,’ but that does not absolve you from choices you make.”

“It is an enormous risk to go against your immediate superiors, Spuvi. What if they know something you do not and your refusal to follow their order has serious repercussions?”

“Always a possibility. But, obeying an unethical, illegal order could also have serious repercussions. You must question an order if you do not feel comfortable with it, and maybe go to a higher authority—even a civilian authority—to verify its validity. Of course, in the heat of battle, you would rarely, if ever, question an order.”

“Spuvi, there is much to what you have said.” Admiral gePetral leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his chin resting on clasped hands. Long moments passed before he sat up and spoke again. “These considerations have occurred to me from time to time, but I never acted on my concerns. I must credit you for the courage you have demonstrated, and thank you for stopping us from making a tremendous mistake.

“I am ready to cancel Operation Chaos and help you to convince any of the flotilla’s senior officers who may find my disobeying orders difficult to accept. Now, please tell me how you managed to take control of my flotilla . . . and what are these Jerithan children doing here?”

“Dalotu, for now, this information is only for you, primarily to protect the children.” Seeing Admiral gePetral cock his head and the lines deepening under his brow ridge, Admiral teDanon added, “You will understand soon.”

Admiral teDanon explained about the children and how they had helped him overcome a mutiny. Soon, he brought Jason, Claire, Zahra, and Kamal in to meet Admiral gePetral and demonstrate their paranormal abilities. Admiral gePetral’s initial fear and suspicion of the children soon faded as he got to know them and took part in the demonstrations. He found the children endearing and was impressed by the strong ethical code of principles governing the use of their extraordinary powers.

The two teams were assigned temporary quarters. The three members of Team B who had been injured were treated in the vessel’s hospital unit and released. While the teams rested and waited for the next day’s meeting, the children rotated their monitoring of the flotilla’s senior officers’ minds to ensure nothing unexpected occurred.

Mack’s form materialized after being teleported from the Rostvar Cluster. When he stumbled and almost fell, the teleporter technician caught him. “Thank you,” Mack said. He shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “That felt weird! I would prefer not to do it again.”

When Mack opened his eyes, Jason was there. “Captain Wallace, the first couple of times can be quite disorienting, but you do get used to it.”

Jason and a Silkaran petty officer took Mack to a brief meeting with Admiral teDanon. Afterward, Mack used a ship’s communicator and contacted Dennis to inform him of their success. Then he joined the children and found they’d already enlightened the other children back on Earth.

Eighteen hours later, Admiral teDanon and Captain geMilot joined with Mack, Jason, Claire, Kamal and Zahra to meet with Admiral gePetral, his executive officer Captain Fratna kaTorka, and the captains of all the vessels in both flotillas. The other seven children were busy monitoring junior officers on the carrier to determine who could be trusted.

They held the meeting in the number one flight crew ready room—assigned to the four shuttle squadrons aboard. Mack and the children sat in the front row, with other rows rising slightly behind them. The two admirals were sitting at the front of the compartment facing the rows of seats. With four shuttles in each squadron, the ready room would be only half full.

As they entered, the Operation Chaos flotilla’s captains stared at the Humans, who had arrived first. Before they had gotten far, one of the destroyer captains pointed at Mack and the children. “I do not understand. What are they doing here?”

“Especially those children,” another captain added with a wave of his hand in their direction.

Admiral gePetral nodded when Admiral teDanon touched his arm and flashed him a look indicating he wanted to answer. Admiral teDanon said, “This will become evident in the next few days. Please be patient. For now, accept their status here as observers. The adult Jerithan is Captain Wallace, an officer in one of Jeritha’s national naval forces. Feel free to ask him any questions you wish.”

The first session lasted six hours, including a meal break. The same points were discussed which had been argued during the meeting aboard Admiral teDanon’s carrier two months earlier. They succeeded in convincing the flotilla’s executive officer and the captains of the carrier and three destroyers that Operation Chaos was immoral, illegal, and should not go forward. The cruiser’s captain was beginning to have serious concerns over Operation Chaos. The captains of the other three destroyers, however, were extremely adamant regarding their commitment to following the General Staff’s orders. A second session was scheduled for the next day.

While the second meeting was in progress, both carriers received similar top-secret messages addressed to their respective admirals from the General Staff. It ordered Admiral gePetral, as commander of the two combined flotillas, now designated the Eighteenth Independent Battle Group, to bring it back to Silkar.

The General Staff claimed it had evidence the prime minister was about to reassign the Fifth Fleet to the League of World’s joint space force, and retire the Second Fleet. In the opinion of the Defense minister and General Staff this would leave Silkar defenseless.

The message declared their intention to stop it from happening. The General Staff asserted they had no option other than arresting the traitorous leaders of the civilian government and taking control, pending new elections to be held at some undetermined time. It also stated Admiral teReevat would be in charge of the government until those elections were held. Operation Chaos was postponed until Silkar was in firm control of the General Staff.