COMMANDER

“Certainly, we can!” I responded, just a hair short of full-blown anger. “But in all our history, only twice has that sort of action had any long-term good effect. Both of those examples are from World War Two of Earth many centuries ago. The nations of Japan and Germany were defeated and surrendered, and the Allied nations, with careful control of their defeated enemies, helped them rebuild their societies and they eventually became, as nations, great friends and allies with the peaceful nations of Earth.

“However,” I continued, a little more harshly, “in every other conflict where a defeated group has been forgiven and then just left alone to rebuild as they may, that defeated group eventually used their history as ‘downtrodden’ to rise against those who defeated . . . and every time millions of peaceful human civilians died as a result. I give you the Luna Wars, the Clone Wars, the Lebanon Conflict, and Canopus III as prima facie evidence. If we humans try to defeat either the Torbor or the Shaquaree, without then totally controlling their recovery and rebuilding efforts, we are risking a knife in the back when we least expect it!”

“So says the man who would rather fight and kill than breathe!” shouted another male delegate angrily. “As civilized people, we must risk the effort toward a lasting peace without such violence and then what amounts to forcing them into a rebellious protectorate!”

“President Tonnoe, council members,” said Lewellyn, attempting to moderate the sudden hostile climate, “you must understand, this precedent of jurisdiction was present and operational even before this colony was first established, therefore predating the colony. As direct and immediate representatives of the Fleet and government which created such jurisdictions, we are obligated to enforce them.”

“But that government is no more! And you have changed other rules and customs as you have entered into and participated with Hanos in a triumvirate council! Why not this?” argued Tonnoe.

“Because this, sir, is at the root of security for the entire human race, as we know it,” responded Lewellyn. “The Marine Space Expeditionary Force is the security force for all humanity. This situation therefore falls into their jurisdiction. It is quite simple.”

“Are there no options, no choices, no alternatives?” asked another council member, righteous indignation clear in her voice.

I responded to her objection. “There are two options. The first is the Marines are left alone to do their jobs. The second is we, the Fleet of Navy and the Marines, collect all of our goodies and toys and leave. Hanos will be left to deal with the Shaquaree and the Torbor and the LCP however they want to . . . or can.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” cried one.

“You can’t order the Navy around,” cried another.

“Oh, yes . . . in this situation, I can,” I told them. “Under these circumstances, with this kind of decision, I have total responsibility . . . and total authority.”

Lewellyn was nodding. “It is true. Under certain circumstances, the senior Marine has full responsibility, even over the Navy. Under other circumstances, it is the reverse and I would be giving orders to Commander Rawlings. In most cases we are equal in rank and authority, Rawlings and I, regardless of what the actual titles may be; admiral, commander, whatever. But not here, not now! In this situation, I yield to him by Navy regulation. And I will tell you something else, gentlemen and ladies, in this case there is no other person alive I would trust with such leadership than Commander Rawlings.”

The room was quiet now as he continued.

“When we jumped in here three years ago I was the one who had to, was forced to, promote Lieutenant Rawlings to clan commander. Frankly, I hated what this man represented and held him responsible for the fiasco of the peace conference. As time has passed, the commander has proven himself not only innocent of those charges but also to be a man of honor and courage. A courage far beyond my own capability and even my understanding in some cases. I have come to respect him deeply, for his intellect, his courage, his convictions, and his humility. Yes, I said humility.”

Lewellyn leaned forward and raised his voice a little. “Did you know he nearly died for you, for Hanos, even after you had told him to stay away because he frightened you? Did you know it was he who figured out a way to gain the information from the aliens in a non-harmful interrogation technique? Did you know it is he who insisted on those multiple peace envoy attempts and had to be physically restrained from going himself?”

His voice grew louder still. “It is he who personally places himself in peril of death on your behalf, fighting actively beside his troopers rather than sitting in a command office safely away from the battle! He believes, as the leader, it is his burden! He trains with his troopers, he showers with them, he eats with them!

“There is no amount of elitism or hubris within this man, and I should know because I am stricken with a heavy dose. Therefore, if Commander Rawlings comes to me and says, ‘We will because we must,’ I believe him.”

“High praise,” interjected Tonnoe immediately, sarcasm dripping viscously. “High praise, indeed. Especially for a man who has so little problem with killing, whether it be the enemy or even one of his own troopers. But it most certainly does not change our opinion of the intended action. Once again, I insist there be an enclave to discuss this situation.”

“Denied!” I barked harshly. “Hanos is a partner in the Triumvirate. They are not our patron government! Therefore Hanos has a vote, not jurisdiction . . . and most certainly not the ability to demand anything.”

“Perhaps,” the admiral stated evenly, “there is room for some discussion. At least enough to properly present the arguments of all sides.”

I stood and moved the executive chair back to its neutral position at the conference table. Silence greeted my action. They were waiting for my response to their demands. Tough shit. I had already given it. I knew Lewellyn was only practicing politics, as was his place to do.

“Admiral,” I said evenly, “I hereby authorize you to organize and attend the demanded enclave. I will send a Marine legal expert along with Combat AI access to the necessary records and regulations of the Marines. I will not be attending due to the obvious unsettling effect my presence has on such political meetings. Good day, ladies and gentlemen.”

With that, I turned and marched out smartly as a good Marine should.

“You’re going to carry out your mission while I entertain these planetary politicos, aren’t you?” said the captain’s voice in my head.

“Yes, Andreas, I am. I do not mean to belittle you in this manner and I hope you will forgive me someday. But I must do what I believe in my heart to be the right thing.”

A dry chuckle was heard. “You will, of course, owe me big time, young man.”

“Collectible on demand, sir. And, thank you for the kind words. I had no idea . . .”

“Now, now, JD, let’s not become maudlin. Do what you must. I believe you are correct in your assessment. I will handle this lot. I will signal the others they are at your command, sir.”

“Very good, Admiral. My respects, sir, and gratitude. Oh! By the way, Admiral, do you enjoy a good Scotch?”

“Upon occasion. Although, I have not had anything but the local whiskies recently.”

“You may be interested to know I happen to have a bottle of 820 year old double malt stashed away, saved for a special occasion. Perhaps when I return we might sample some together.”

“It would be my pleasure, Commander. Good hunting!”

The probe, a converted light fighter, popped out of Transition in a system containing seventeen planets. Within nanoseconds, the shields, sensor array, and engines were set to maximum. Its job was simple. Gather maximum intelligence on the entire system. The execution of the job was the difficult part, and it would likely be destroyed before it was finished. Plans for this eventuality had been formulated.

Every empty space on the interior of the fighter, even inside the machine housings for non-moving parts, was packed with non-conductive, non-compressive gel making it possible for the craft to maneuver at many hundreds of Gs. The modified Wasp isolated in the center contained the AI collecting the data from the sensors, and the AI of the fighter was responsible for plotting a course to provide maximum sensor approaches of planetary bodies for scanning and evading enemy fire. There were no weapons on board.

This mission was a triple experiment. One was to ensure Transition-jumping did indeed work in intergalactic travel. Those were tremendous distances which had never before been attempted by humankind. It had to be known and confirmed the jumps could be made by us, by humans. We had sent robot ships prior to this but we were never even sure they arrived, much less made contact. We had not included any subspace capability on those robot ships to deny any ability for the residents of the system to capture and reverse engineer that capability.

The second was to gather as much intel as possible about the destination system. There were to be no surprises. The humans must be prepared for whatever lay there, or to make a new decision, a new plan. Finally, subspace signals would be sent back to the point of origin for reception, strength, and time lag measurements.

The course plotted by the fighter AI was altered three hundred seventeen times before the vessel was destroyed. The Wasp inside Transitioned fully out only milliseconds before the fighter was disintegrated by enemy missiles despite its shielding but far enough in advance to avoid the compression, heat, and radiation waves of the missiles exploding. The AI inside the Wasp had gathered 9.63824 exabytes of sensor data, and the T-jump was executed precisely as planned. The violet light produced by Transitioning was hidden in the center of the massive explosions which disintegrated the fighter. With the other radiations produced by the explosions to mask the signature waveforms of the Transition, and any luck, the enemy would believe it had destroyed the fighter before any transmissions or jumping occurred.

When the Wasp finally popped back into Hanosian space after five successive jumps through other systems, there was grim rejoicing. Rejoicing because now we humans knew it could be done. Grim because now I would commit us, potentially, to a very worrisome and troublesome path.

It took technicians and analysts six days to completely analyze the data gathered. It took the strategists and tacticians another three days to formulate and perfect the plan. I watched in amazement as Major Jenkins outshined the others on that team—including me—and even corrected AI postulates. He was, indeed, a gifted tactician.

Another week was spent finalizing preparations and alignment for the fleet of ships which would make the jump to the enemy system located deep in another galaxy. Gods Above, another galaxy!

I stood on the bridge of the Rontar, just on the right of the captain’s chair where Captain Dotes sat. Major Donner was by my side. Arrayed around us in space, in the outer reaches of the Hanosian system were seventeen battleships, converted Torbor vessels, manned by AI pilots and robot crews. The overall battle plan and thirty-two alternates were programmed into each of the networked AIs. One full clan was committed with full resources, scattered throughout the fleet group, along with a small army of technicians of various specialties.

One final check was performed, and each AI reported one hundred percent readiness.

I looked at Ronin a moment and my beautiful Amazon smiled at me, a perfect smile, full of support and confidence.

I turned to Captain Dotes who stared at me evenly, and said, “Captain Dotes, with the authority of Fleet and Marine regulations, I order you to commit the action.”

“With pleasure, Commander Rawlings,” he replied, and pressed a button on the right arm of the captain’s chair.