Chapter Three
CO’s Conference Room, TSS Vella Gulf, Stargate #1, Solar System, December 9
“The Drakuls came through stern-first, with very little forward velocity,” said the intelligence officer, who had viewed all of the data, “and they never quite made it into the minefield. By the time that Skywatch could get the mines moving to intercept them, the Drakuls were already gone.”
“Well, they obviously got a good look at us,” said Captain Sheppard.
“Yes, they did,” said the intel officer. “Although the Drakuls’ systems wouldn’t have had time to lock onto us and get precise measurements, the Drakuls will have almost a full minute of video of us to look at. They may very well be able to identify the ship.”
“What good will that do them?” asked Calvin. “The Drakuls are from another universe. Even if they captured some sort of identification database, the Vella Gulf is 3,000 years old. It is unlikely that we’ll be in it.”
“It’s impossible to know,” said the intel officer with a shrug. “Based on our analysis of the Drakuls’ attack, their cruiser has one more missile tube in its broadside than we do. That will be something to consider if we ever go up against them again.”
“You mean when we go up against them,” replied Calvin. He looked at Captain Sheppard. “Has Fleet Command given us permission to go through the stargate after them?”
“Actually, we just got our orders,” replied Captain Sheppard. “We are supposed to go back to Earth for a strategy conference and then on to Domus. Fleet Command wants the Terra back here ASAP.”
President’s Conference Room, Terran Government Headquarters, Lake Pedam, Nigeria, December 11
Calvin was amazed at the progress that had been made on the new governmental headquarters. It had only been six months since his last visit, but in that time the entire headquarters building had been completed, as well as several of the ministerial buildings. He especially appreciated the shuttle landing pad that had been built next to the headquarters. All he had to do was fly in, land and walk over to the meeting. No pesky rental cars or baggage claims. The only thing better would be once they got the transporters working. He had heard that all of the airline and car companies were already fighting the implementation of transporters...and there wasn’t even a single person who could use them yet. It figured.
Sitting down in the president’s conference room, he checked his watch. He was 10 minutes early, which was right on time as far as he was concerned. You definitely did not want to be late to meet the president of the new world government. Looking around, he saw that he was one of the most junior people in the room. There were plenty of ‘stars’ denoting admirals and generals, and even a few captains walking around carrying coffee for them, but he didn’t see anyone else below the rank of captain. He shrugged. The former Chief of Naval Operations for the United States, Admiral Wright, had asked him to attend, so here he was. When the head of the Terran Fleet Command tells you to jump, you ask how high. But only once you’re already on the way up.
He looked at his watch. Five minutes to go. He began amusing himself by trying to figure out who else was attending the meeting. He knew who Terran President Katrina Nehru was as he had seen her on the news many times. Previously a member of India’s Parliament, she had risen to take control of the world-wide government that had been formed when the aliens had announced their presence. He didn’t see her here yet. That wasn’t a surprise; Calvin was pretty sure her schedule was even busier than his. He only had to worry about trying to save the planet; he didn’t have to figure out how to get all of the former nations to cooperate. He shuddered. That was a job he did not want.
He saw a dark skinned man he didn’t recognize standing by the table, and he did a facial web search via implant on him. Got it. Masood Khalil from Pakistan, the secretary of state.
Before he could move on to the tall exotic woman standing next to him, a window opened up in his mind, indicating an incoming call. It was from Steropes, one of the three aliens who had made first contact with the Terrans two years previously. Calvin’s experience with him had been mixed. Although Steropes had proven himself as someone to be reckoned with in combat, he had also lied and withheld information that might have been helpful to the Terrans. The three aliens, or ‘Psiclopes’ as they called themselves, had been found to be playing both sides for their own advantage. This included putting Calvin into bad situations to see how he would react, all in the name of some research project they were conducting. To say that their relationship was ‘strained’ was an understatement. A big understatement.
Still, Steropes’ last conversation with Calvin had been to give him what appeared to be a sincere apology for everything he had done. Calvin decided to accept his call.
“Hi Steropes,” he said, as the window changed to show a picture of Steropes. “I’m kind of busy right now. What’s up?”
“I know you are,” said Steropes. “I heard that the Terran president is holding a meeting to determine the diplomatic and military way forward. There are two things that must be decided today. The first is that you must accompany the Vella Gulf in its mission to the Archons. You must.”
“Huh,” said Calvin. “I didn’t know that a mission had even been agreed to yet. I think the military command is trying to pull back all of our ships to defend the Earth. It’s obvious that the Drakuls have found us.”
“It hasn’t been agreed to yet,” said Steropes, “but it will be. There is no way that you can hold off the Drakuls by yourself. Ask Solomon. I asked the artificial intelligence to run some simulations, based on all of the information we have. It’s all about ships; you don’t have enough, nor do you have the capability to make enough of them before you are overrun. I am hopeful that someone will see this, as your civilization will be destroyed if you do not seek additional aid.”
“I don’t know,” said Calvin. “I haven’t been included in the planning, but I heard that the president is going to ask the Mrowry for aid.”
“I talked to Captain Yerrow,” replied Steropes. Captain Yerrow was the commanding officer of the Emperor’s Paw, the ship that had returned to Earth with the Vella Gulf on its last mission. He was also the crown prince of the Mrowry. “He reiterated they wouldn’t be able to send aid. He plans to tell the president that at the meeting.”
“I’m surprised he even spoke to you,” replied Calvin. “They don’t like you guys at all.”
“No, they don’t,” admitted Steropes. “However, they do like their empire, and having you take some of the burden of defending it from them would be beneficial. I told him about the simulations I had run, hoping to get him to provide assistance to the Earth. He was greatly disturbed...but still did not believe that they would be able to do anything for you.”
“OK,” said Calvin, “I got it. Convince the president of the world, who doesn’t even know me, to release one of only three ships we have available to defend our planet. We’re supposed to go on a journey to a star system that we have never been to, talk to a race that we have never met, and get them to provide aid against our common foe. Have I got all of that right?”
“Yes,” said Steropes, “that is correct.” Calvin shook his head, for a culture that had made so many tremendous advances, sarcasm usually went right over their heads.
Calvin laughed. “There shouldn’t be any problem, then. What’s the second thing? Get the Chinese to come along?” To date, the only major nation that hadn’t joined the Terran World Government was China, who was holding out for a number of reasons.
“No,” said Steropes, “it is much easier than that. You must take me along with you when you go.”
“WHAT?” asked Calvin. From the number of heads that turned to look at him, he realized that he had spoken out loud in his surprise. He made sure that he only spoke over the implant as he continued. “You guys screwed us. Why in the world would we take you along with us? So that you could find out more of our secrets to use against us? You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind if you think I’m going to put you into that kind of position of trust again. Besides, aren’t you building up your media empire? Can you afford to leave that?”
Calvin had seen that the Psiclopes were working to start the first implant shopping and entertainment network. When Calvin had first turned on his implant, there had been selections for Shopping, Entertainment, News, Sports, Education, Military, Search and Tools, but Shopping, Entertainment, News and Sports had been grayed out. When he had asked why that was, he had been told that they weren’t at a ‘civilized’ planet that had access to all of those networks. All of the grayed out selections had become active a couple of weeks ago. When Calvin had asked someone about them, he had been told that the Psiclopes had started a new entertainment network.
“You have me confused with Arges,” said Steropes. “With more and more of the Terrans getting implants, and no one in the government or military ever going to trust him again, Arges decided to start an information and shopping implant network. He sold a bunch of his heirlooms to build up some capital and bought a run on the Class 2 replicator on the moon. He used his time to make several artificial intelligences that he is using to run the networks. He has both an internet and an implant marketplace that already have more traffic than the Terran Shopping Network. He is hoping to be outselling Amazon by the end of the year.”
“And people are actually coming to him to get the news?” asked Calvin.
“You’d be surprised,” said Steropes. “People want to hear what he has to say, regardless of what the topic is. Not only is his news network outperforming CNN, he has people calling all of the time to give him secret information about various programs, both legal and illegal. If he wanted, he could leak more secrets than Wikileaks and Edward Snowden combined.”
“That’s not good,” said Calvin, who knew that the Psiclopes lived to collect information they could use later. To them, information was the best currency. Calvin would have to say something to whoever ran the world government’s version of the FBI...or maybe the senate...or someone. Arges obviously needed to be reined in. “Why are you telling me this?” Calvin finally asked.
“I’m telling you because I am not a part of it,” said Steropes. “As you know, my wife Parvati believed in doing the right thing. Over the last several months, I have had a lot of time to contemplate the meaning of life, and I believe that she was the one on the right track. I have rededicated my life to following in her footsteps. I want to go because I want to help you. It is the only way to make up for what I have done. If you will let me go, I will give you the benefit of my 5,000 years of galactic experience. I will not hold anything back, nor try to slant things to make you choose one path or another. I give you my word that I will only tell you the truth from now on.”
“The truth, huh?” asked Calvin. “That would be pretty refreshing...maybe even enough to let you come with us if we end up going to meet with the Archons. There’s only one problem.”
“How can you trust me?” asked Steropes.
“That’s the one I was thinking of,” agreed Calvin. “You’ve lied and skated around the truth so many times, it’s second nature to you. How can I know you will only tell the truth? I’d ask you to swear on it, but I have no idea what is important enough to make it a meaningful vow.”
“I will swear on the soul of Parvati,” said Steropes. “Someday I hope to meet her again; the only way I will ever do so is to make all of the wrong things I’ve done right again.”
“OK,” said Calvin, “Let’s try this once. Tell me about the Archons.”
“What would you like to know?” asked Steropes. “I have been to their home planet once and have interacted with them on several occasions, including twice here on Earth.”
“WHAT?” For the second time, heads turned. Calvin waved them off with another apology. Steropes must really be serious, he thought. He’s never been this forthright before. “When were the Archons here?”
“They were here around 1500 B.C. and then again around 800 B.C.,” said Steropes. “We asked them to come and help with different invaders that had come to your planet.”
“Would I have heard of either of these?” Calvin asked.
“Yes,” Steropes replied. The rakshasas were so horrific they still exist within Indian lore.”
Calvin ran a quick internet search and found that the rakshasas were creatures from Hindu mythology. They were reputed to be insatiable cannibals who liked drinking blood from human skulls. Yuck. Some were thought to have the ability to fly or to change their shapes at will.
“Geez,” said Calvin. “Another creature that wants to eat us?”
“That is correct,” said Steropes. “They are nasty, disgusting creatures. Unfortunately, one of their powers is the ability to charm individuals. We asked the Archons to come and help us get rid of them, because they are not easily influenced.”
“Wait a minute,” said Calvin. “The race that we’re going to go ask for aid isn’t easily influenced?”
“That is correct,” said Steropes. “As a race, they are some of the most single-minded people I have ever met. They do believe in doing the right thing, though, so they came and helped rid Earth of the rakshasas, but not before the rakshasas had eaten enough people to make it into Hindu mythology.”
“What else can you tell me about the Archons?” asked Calvin. He was enjoying getting straight answers from a Psiclops for a change.
“The Archons are another of the founding races of the Alliance of Civilizations,” said Steropes. “They are humanoid in appearance and are about seven feet tall with long, white-blond hair.”
“Tall and white hair,” repeated Calvin. “Got it. Anything else?”
“Yes,” said Steropes. “They also have wings.”
“Wings?” asked Calvin. “Seven feet tall with wings? That sounds just like...”
“Angels,” answered Steropes. “Yes...they look just like angels.”
“Enough,” said Calvin. “I don’t think I want to know any more.” He noticed everyone was moving toward their seats; the meeting appeared to be about to start. Sure enough, everyone stood as the president walked in. “Look, I’ve got to go,” he said. “The president is here.”
“So I can go with you?” asked Steropes hopefully.
“I don’t know,” said Calvin. “I don’t make the decisions.”
“But you’ll ask them for me?” Steropes asked.
“I don’t know,” replied Calvin. “Let me think about it.”
“OK,” said Steropes, disappointment heavy in his voice. He played his last card. “Once, you trusted me to fight alongside you inside a Mayan pyramid,” he said. “I told you I would be able to help, and that I would save Terran lives. I don’t know how many lives I saved that day, but it was probably most of the platoon, if not all of it. You trusted me then; I would ask that you trust me now, if for no other reason than in remembrance of that day.”
“I remember it,” said Calvin. “Like I said, I’ll think about it.” The window to Steropes closed.
The conference room had filled up while he was talking with Steropes, Calvin noted. The space itself was unlike any other he had ever been in. At its center was a table which could easily seat 20 people to a side. Behind it on both sides, the floor of the room sloped upward, with 10 rows of stadium seating. It was almost like a mini-parliament. The leaders could sit around the table, with plenty of room for their staffs or other experts that might be needed. Although most of the people at the table had implants which would translate any Terran language, all of the seating in the room had jacks that allowed users to plug in and get a running translation of the conversation, provided by a small artificial intelligence that had been replicated for that purpose. It also kept notes and logs of all of the conversations within the room, unless told not to.
At one end of the table sat the leaders of the Terran Government. In addition to the president seated at the head of the table, Calvin also recognized the vice president, the secretary of state and guessed that the tall woman he had seen earlier was the speaker of one of the houses of parliament. Their staffers completely filled all of the rows behind them and encroached into the seating of the other participants.
On one side of the table sat several members from Epsilon Eridani. The planet Domus in that star system supported two races, which had come together to form their own world government so they could join the Republic of Terra. Calvin could see the princesses from both of the planet’s races in attendance. One of these was humanoid, with members that could generally pass as human, although they tended to look a little more Cro-Magnon. The other race, the kuji, was a race of lizards that looked like six feet tall versions of the tyrannosaurus rex. As the kuji were unable to sit comfortably in the Terran chairs, an enterprising craftsman had built a modified stool with a back that let them relax without getting their tails caught up.
Calvin could also see Second Lieutenant Contreras in the seating behind the kuji princess. Previously a member of Calvin’s platoon, Contreras had become good friends with the princess after he saved her life. He was currently serving as the head of her security forces.
On the other side of the table sat the Mrowry contingent, led by Captain Yerrow and Commander Andowwn, the commanding officer and executive officer of the Mrowry cruiser Emperor’s Paw. Although Captain Yerrow had served as the executive officer of the TSS Terra when it had first been acquired by the fleet, he had relinquished that position to a Terran officer once there were a sufficient number of implanted humans.
The Fleet Command staff sat at the end of the table opposite the president, led by its head, Admiral James Wright. Calvin had met Admiral Wright during the Sino-American War. Although their working relationship had been strained at first, the admiral was aware of most of Calvin’s accomplishments and looked in on him from time to time, like admirals will often do for their prodigies. Several representatives from the Vella Gulf, the only Terran spaceship currently in-system, sat with the staff. Calvin had originally been invited to sit at the table, but had been moved to the first row of the stadium seating when the Terran government higher-ups had claimed a greater number of seats than expected. He had moved a little higher on his own accord as more and more ‘stars’ had come in.
“Thank you all for coming today,” said Terran President Katrina Nehru. In addition to the hidden microphones and speakers that transmitted her voice, it was also being sent over the implant network so Calvin had no problems hearing her, even though he was at the opposite end of the room and removed from the table. She looked around the crowded conference room and smiled. “I guess that one of the perks of being president of the world,” she said, “is that when you ask for a meeting everyone shows up on time.” Several polite chuckles could be heard throughout the room.
“I asked for all of you to come here today,” she continued in a more serious tone, “so that we could formulate a coherent strategy for the defense of the Solar System. Admiral Wright, could you please give us a status report?”
While Admiral Wright began summing up the battle at Stargate #1, Calvin had a thought. “Solomon, Calvin,” he commed to the artificial intelligence (AI) onboard the Vella Gulf. “Are you receiving me?”
“I am receiving you,” answered the AI. “I am currently orbiting overhead. What can I do for you?”
“I understand that Steropes had you run some simulations,” said Calvin. “Is that correct?”
“Yes,” replied Solomon, “I did not have any prohibitions on that, and the ones he asked me to run were not of a classified nature. Am I no longer allowed to interact with him?”
“No,” said Calvin, “it’s OK to talk to him. His status is still being evaluated. Can you tell me about the simulations?”
“Certainly, Calvin,” answered Solomon. “He asked me to run simulations on when the Drakuls would be likely to return, and what size force they would show up with. Based on information I received from the Emperor’s Paw, I tried to answer those questions for him.”
“And what did you determine?” asked Calvin.
“There are several caveats I must make before I give you the results,” advised Solomon. “First, there is not much data on the new Drakuls on which to base the simulations, so I used historical data from the original race of Drakuls. They may act differently, but I cannot control for this. Second, I have no access to their order of battle, other than what the Archons had passed on to the Mrowry as of two years ago. They may have more ships or less than what I am using, which would speed up or slow down their fleet’s movements. Third, I do not have access to the current situation at 54 Piscium, where the Drakuls and the Archons are fighting, which would also be a major factor in their planning. These things will have a major effect on the simulation’s outcome.”
“Got it,” said Calvin. “With those caveats, what did you determine?”
“The Drakuls will be back between five and nine months from now,” said Solomon. “They will return with at least one dreadnought, eight battleships and 16 battlecruisers, as well as a number of smaller ships. A host of cruisers will lead the assault, sacrificing themselves to clear out the Terran minefield. They will be met by two to three Terran battleships and five battlecruisers. The battle will be fierce, with neither side asking for or giving quarter. The Terran forces will be destroyed, and the Drakul forces will still have two battleships, five battlecruisers and eight cruisers left over. The Earth will be conquered and become a pastureland for Drakul food harvesters.” Damn, thought Calvin. If they brought a dreadnought, Terra was in trouble because dreadnoughts were bigger than anything Terra had in its inventory. Way bigger. He doubted they could stop one if it showed up.
“Is that a sure thing?” asked Calvin. “How many times did you run the simulation?”
“I ran it 3,869 times,” said Solomon. “In over 30% of them, the Drakuls also destroyed at least part of the planet during the battle, launching missiles at it to split the focus of the defending forces.”
“So,” Calvin asked, “How many did we win?”
“None of them,” replied Solomon. “In most cases, all of the Terran spaceships were destroyed within the first hour.”
“Damn,” said Calvin. “Did Steropes ask you about what happened if we got aid?”
“Yes, he did,” replied Solomon. “If the Archons respond with aid, you were more likely to survive the initial assault.”
“How likely?” asked Calvin, noticing that Admiral Wright was finishing up.
“If the Archons respond with aid, you have a 5% chance of surviving the initial assault,” replied Solomon.
“Thanks,” said Calvin. “I’ve gotta go. Could you please push that info to Admiral Wright of Fleet Command? Tell him it’s something I said he needs for this discussion.” Calvin knew that the admiral had gotten his implants a week ago. A gift from the Psiclopes, implants allowed recipients to download information directly to their brains, as well as to talk to each other via a special communications network. Calvin doubted that getting bad news in the middle of a briefing was one of the reasons the admiral wanted them.
“Thank you for the recap of the battle,” said President Nehru. She looked around to see if there were any questions. When she saw none, she asked, “What are Fleet Command’s intentions to ensure that we are equally successful next time?”
The admiral didn’t answer. When she looked down the table she could see his eyes slightly unfocused and a frown on his face. She recognized the look of someone that just got implants carrying on a conversation. The fact that he took the call in the middle of a presidential meeting meant that it was either incredibly important, or he had requested information about the topic of conversation from someone outside the conference. With a start, his eyes focused, and he realized that everyone was waiting on him.
“I’m sorry, madam president,” he said, trying to recover. “I...um...asked for some simulations to be run to project what the Drakuls would do next, and I just got the results.” He took a breath and released it, trying to put off the news as long as he could. “They’re not good,” he said finally.
The president frowned. “Could you please be a little more specific on what ‘not good’ means?” she asked.
“The AI onboard the Vella Gulf ran several thousand simulations on what the Drakuls would most likely do, based on historical information and the data passed on to us by the Mrowry,” Admiral Wright explained. “The AI thinks that they will be back in force, as early as five months from now, with enough ships to break into the system and subdue it.”
President Nehru noticed the Mrowry officers nodding their head, which she had been told was a practice that both races had in common. “I see you nodding your head, Captain Yerrow,” she said. “Do you have something to add?”
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings,” replied Captain Yerrow, “but we ran the same simulations onboard our ship. The results were the same, with one small difference. Our AI only gives you four months before their return.” There was a general intake of breath from around the table and plenty of scared looks, especially from the civilians.
“Well, that outcome is not acceptable to me,” stated the president in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “I will not be both the first and last president of this republic. There are always choices and options. What did the AIs say we could do to ensure our survival? Do we need more mines? More ships? What do we need to do or build?” The matter-of-fact voice gave way slightly at the end, Calvin saw. He couldn’t blame her; he felt the same way.
“Barring help from an outside source,” said Captain Yerrow, “it is nearly certain that you will be overrun. Like Admiral Wright, we ran our simulation several thousand times, and the outcome was always the same. For the record, even if you receive outside aid, it is still unlikely that you will defeat them.”
“Unacceptable,” said the president, the steel back in her backbone. “If it is friends we must have, then it is friends that we will get. What aid can we expect from the Mrowry?”
Captain Yerrow and Commander Andowwn looked at each other, talking via implant. After a couple of seconds, Captain Yerrow turned to face the president. “I do not know what aid my father will be able to send,” he said. “It is unlikely to be much, if anything.”
“Well, what about if you stayed here?” asked Masood Khalil, the Pakistani secretary of state. “Would your ship help turn the tide against the Drakuls?”
Captain Yerrow gave the Mrowry version of a smile. It involved a lot of teeth and was very intimidating up close. “One cruiser, no matter how good it is, will not stop a Drakul battlecruiser, much less a battleship. Our lives would be better spent trying to make it back to ask my father for aid. In all honesty, should we actually be successful and make it back, there is not much of a chance that he will have aid to spare. When we left, we were being hard-pressed on all sides.”
“Then we will have to go to the other race that is currently fighting the Drakuls,” said the president. “What do we know about them?”
“They are the Archons,” said Captain Yerrow. “I do not know if you will have any more success with them than you will with my father, but aid is more likely to be found there than at our capital of Grrrnow.”
“Then we will go there, as well,” said the president. She looked at the secretary of state. “Put together a mission that goes first to the home world of the Mrowry and then to the home world of the Archons. Make sure that your best person is on it.”
“Just like the Vella Gulf’s last mission,” said Khalil, “our best ambassador remains Juliette Ricketts-Smith. She did good work on their last mission and has the benefit of already having been to the stars once.”
“Great,” said the president. She looked around the table at the Terrans and the delegation for Domus. “So we are agreed that the Vella Gulf will go to meet with the Archons?” She saw heads nodding around the table. She looked at Admiral Wright. “Until they get back, that leaves us with a battleship, a battlecruiser and the Mrowry cruiser until we can get the new replicator making ships?”
“That is correct,” said Admiral Wright.
Before he could add anything else, Captain Yerrow cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but we will not be staying here. When the Vella Gulf leaves for Grrrnow, we will be taking the Emperor’s Paw back to our home world, too.”
“I see,” the president said. “I guess Terra stands alone, then.”
“Not alone,” said the prince. “I will be leaving as many of my warriors as I can spare to help train the crew of the Terra, and the rest of us will be with you in spirit. I will also leave some pilots to help train your pilots in space fighter combat, but it is imperative that I leave. I know for sure that my father will not aid you if I am not there, as your civilization is unknown to him. If there is any aid to be had, it will only be given if I am there to vouch for you.”
The president had previously served as the chairman of the upper house of India’s parliament and was used to making decisions. “Go with my blessings, then,” she said, “and help convince your father to send whatever aid he can. If you can also do something to help with the Archons, I would appreciate that, as well.” She looked at the rest of the group in attendance. “What other things can we do to help improve our readiness? What aren’t we doing that we should be?”
“If I may,” said the only person seated with Fleet Command wearing civilian clothes. Calvin recognized Andrew Brown, the person who ran the Fleet’s Material Management Network. Also known as ‘Replicator Command,’ its sole purpose was to ensure the Republic of Terra’s two replicators ran as efficiently as possible. The replicators were alien devices with the ability to rapidly assemble anything they had the blueprints for. They functioned somewhat like transporters in that they broke things down to their most basic level and then reassembled them. You couldn’t get something for nothing, though; whatever material you wanted the finished product to be made of had to be loaded into the replicator first. Before coming to work for Replicator Command, Andrew Brown had been the plant manager for Boeing’s Airplane Programs Manufacturing Site in Renton, Washington. Although no human had experience running replicators, he had a wealth of experience managing massive aircraft production facilities.
The Republic of Terra had a Class 2 replicator that the Vella Gulf brought back from its first mission and a Class 6 that it brought back from its second. Although the Class 2 was only able to build things up to the size of a space fighter or shuttle, the Class 6 was enormous. Just over a mile long and about 1,500 feet in diameter, it could build anything up to the size of a battleship, if you had about two and a half months to do it. The Terrans didn’t have that kind of time. Both the Terra and the Vella Gulf also had smaller replicators onboard that could be used for making things for their ship’s company, like the crew’s combat suits, weapons, and implants. The Vella Gulf had one of the smaller replicators; the Terra had three.
“Yes?” asked the president. “You are...?”
“I’m Andrew Brown, ma’am,” he said. “I run the replicators for Fleet Command. I’m not sure if it’s my place to say it or not, but the best thing that you could do to help us would be to get China to come onboard with us. They have a wealth of materials we need to build more ships. If we’re going to stand alone, we’re going to need to stand together as a planet, with the Chinese.”
“We have tried repeatedly to do that,” said the president, “but they don’t want to be a part of this. They won’t even talk to us. They have withdrawn to their country and won’t receive our diplomats. Do you have some insight into how we can get them to join us?”
“No ma’am, I don’t,” said Brown. “I’m no politician. I just make airplanes...well, now it’s space planes. You asked what we needed; we need access to their resources.”
The Terran government staff all looked at each other in frustration. They had tried to get China to join the government. Repeatedly. But whether it was because of their recent loss in the war with America, or because it was later found that they had been led astray by one of the Psiclopes and they were embarrassed by the loss of face, they hadn’t wanted to participate in the world government.
An awkward silence followed as they spoke among themselves via implant. Finally Calvin couldn’t take it any longer. He stood up. “I think I have an idea that might work,” he said in a loud voice, “but it involves using Steropes to help convince them.” Several heads immediately began shaking, including all of the Mrowry. The Psiclopes had broken the trust of the Mrowry and had thrown the universe into the state of war it was in; the Mrowry wanted nothing to do with the oath breakers.
“Well, here’s the deal,” said Calvin before anyone could say anything that couldn’t be taken back. “I think he can convince them to join the government. We need the resources that the Chinese have, whether that is the rare Earth elements they have stockpiled, which we need,” Brown began nodding his head, “or whether it is their manpower. Right now, nearly 20% of Earth’s manpower is sitting idly by, when it could be working to build the things the Earth needs to defend itself. We need the Chinese! For those of you that don’t know me, I’m Lieutenant Commander Hobbs. I was heavily involved in the war against the Chinese when they invaded Seattle. They shot down my airplane and killed many of my friends. If I can say that we need them, we need them.”
Calvin looked at the end of the table where the Fleet Command leaders and the commanding officer of the Vella Gulf sat. “If I can make this happen,” he said, “Steropes is going to want to come with us on the trip to meet with the Archons. I want him to come; I think his experience will be extremely valuable.”
Now the Terran heads were shaking, too. Everyone in the room had bad experiences with the Psiclopes. He tried again. “I’ve been in combat with him,” said Calvin, “and I know him better than anyone. He says that he wants to help us, and I believe him. He’s even willing to tell us about all of the shady deals Arges is currently putting together. I want to bring him, and I will personally vouch for him.”
Admiral Wright had come to rely on Calvin’s judgment. It had served him well during the war, and he knew that Calvin was an excellent judge of people. While the admiral didn’t believe the rumor going around that Calvin was the reborn spirit of the Greek god Zeus, he knew that Calvin was often in the center of things when they went to shit, and had always come through them smelling of roses. If Calvin thought that the little bastard was salvageable, Steropes could go with him. At least that meant there was one fewer Psiclopes in the Solar System, which made his own life easier. “OK,” said Admiral Wright. “If he can convince the Chinese to join the world government, and you want to vouch for him, he can go.”
“Thank you sir,” said Calvin. “I’ll get right on it.” He turned to leave.
“Calvin?” asked Admiral Wright.
“Yes sir?” asked Calvin, turning around.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Admiral Wright.
“Yes sir,” said Calvin. “Me too.” He turned and left. If nothing else, Calvin thought, at least it gets me out of this meeting.
Transporter Room, TSS Vella Gulf, Earth Orbit, December 11
“Thanks for joining me,” said Calvin as Steropes beamed in. He had been waiting for the Psiclops to join him in the Vella Gulf’s transporter room. The room was a circular space about 25 feet in diameter. It had a raised platform with 12 circular metal plates covering about 2/3 of it and a control console on the right as you entered the room.
“No problem,” replied Steropes, stepping off the platform. “It’s good to be back on the Vella Gulf again.”
“As it turns out,” said Calvin, “the meeting went down pretty much as you thought it would. They are going to send the Vella Gulf to the home world of the Archons.”
“Archonis,” said Steropes.
“What?” asked Calvin.
“Archonis is the home world of the Archons,” said Steropes. “That is where their capital is.”
“Oh,” said Calvin. “I guess that’s where we’re going then.”
“Will I be allowed to come?” asked Steropes.
“That is still to be determined,” replied Calvin. “I’ll be honest with you; there are a lot of people that don’t want you around.”
“That is understandable,” acknowledged Steropes, “although I wasn’t the one responsible for most of the things of which the Psiclopes have been accused. It is all guilt by association.”
“Be that as it may,” replied Calvin, “the sentiment remains. I did, however, get them to give you a chance. If you can help me with one thing, you’ll be allowed to accompany us.”
“What is the one thing?” asked Steropes. “Slay a dragon? Storm a castle? I’ve done those things, but not in a couple thousand years, so I’m probably a little rusty.”
“No,” answered Calvin. “Nothing like that.” Maybe the Psiclops did understand sarcasm, after all. “I’m hoping that combat won’t be necessary...although there is a chance that it might if we screw this up. The Terran government wants China to join up.”
“Really?” asked Steropes. “Let me guess. You are short of some element and want China to join because they have it?”
“Well, resources are certainly part of the reason why,” admitted Calvin. “It would also be nice to have their billion inhabitants working with us. If we’re going to be overrun shortly, we need everyone we can get. We especially need the Chinese. Can you help with this or not?”
“Of course I can help,” replied Steropes. “The Psiclopes caused this problem; it is only right that we fix it. It may actually be easier than you think to fix. May I use the transporter a moment or two? There is something I need to get.”
“Umm, sure, I guess,” said Calvin. “Why are you asking me?”
“Because I am currently banned from using the transporter, by order of the Vella Gulf’s commanding officer,” replied Steropes. “I need someone to authorize me to use it again.”
“That is true,” said Solomon, the Vella Gulf’s AI. “He is currently prohibited from using the transporter without authorization. I only transported Steropes up because you said it was all right.”
“Solomon, I have authorization from Admiral Wright to accomplish this task,” said Calvin. “Steropes is authorized to use the transporter.”
“Thank you,” Steropes said. He went back over to the transport platform and stood on one of the grids. After a couple of seconds, he appeared to stretch toward the ceiling and then vanished.
Calvin waited a couple of minutes, but nothing happened.
He waited another couple of minutes, wondering if he had made a mistake by granting Steropes complete access to the transporter. If he had gone somewhere unauthorized and was into mischief...
“Hey, umm, Solomon...where’d he go?” Calvin finally asked.
“Steropes is currently in Nepal,” replied Solomon. “I believe there is a cave high up in the Himalayas that the Psiclopes use to store their items. He is returning.”
On the transporter platform, one of the grids appeared active. A smear appeared that initially went from floor to ceiling, but coalesced into Steropes, holding a bundle wrapped in plastic. He took off the plastic to reveal a very normal-looking briefcase.
“What is that?” Calvin asked.
“It’s a briefcase,” Steropes replied. “It’s also the answer to your problem. If you would please join me here on the platform?”
“Wait,” said Calvin. “We’re not beaming somewhere, are we? I can’t beam, can I? I haven’t been surveyed or scanned or whatever it is. Fleet Command said that no one was to beam until we got scanned, so that we didn’t lose anyone unnecessarily.” When the Terrans had first taken control of the Vella Gulf, the Psiclopes had told them that a person needed to be surveyed by some sort of molecular scanner prior to using the transporter. That ensured the person being transported would be reassembled correctly at the other end of the trip and would end up where he was supposed to be. Too high and you would fall to the floor; too low and your body would become mixed with the ground. If you ended up beaming into a space that held an object, it would become part of your body. All of these were painful; most of them were also fatal.
“Well, yes, it would be better if we had done that first,” said Steropes, “but the chances of something bad happening are less than 1%. The Psiclopes have made this trip on a number of occasions, so it is pretty safe. Unless you’re really, really unlucky, everything will be fine. Do you want to get this done, or not?”
“I’ve got a bad feeling,” said Calvin. He stepped onto the platform and walked over to the pad indicated by Steropes. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’m almost positive,” said Steropes with a smile.
“Almost?” Calvin asked as he stepped onto the grid.
“Initiate,” said Steropes. Calvin felt stretched...
President’s Bedroom, Beijing, China, December 11
...and then he was in a bedroom, judging by the snoring, although it was hard to tell in the dark. “Damn it,” Calvin said as he fell six inches to the floor.
“See?” asked Steropes. “Nothing to it. Unless you were really unlucky, nothing bad was going to happen.”
There was a grunt close by. The snoring stopped, and a light turned on. Calvin saw that he was indeed in a bedroom, a very ornate and well-appointed one. “What is the meaning of this?” a voice asked in Chinese. A man sat up in the bed. Calvin recognized him. The man was Jiang Jiabao, the President of the People’s Republic of China.
Seeing Steropes, the man yelled, “You!” in a very loud voice.
Steropes quickly said, “Yes, we would like to talk to you privately.” He held up the briefcase. “I have the pictures for you.”
Someone began beating on the door. “Are you all right, Mr. President?” a voice asked.
The president hopped out of bed and walked quickly to the door. He motioned Calvin and Steropes to move to where they couldn’t be seen, and then he opened the door, just as the armed guard outside was opening it with a key.
“I am fine,” said the president. “I was just having a bad dream. I will probably watch TV for a little while to relax before going back to sleep. Good night.” He closed the door and locked it. Reaching up, he turned on what looked like a genuine Mrowry Tri-D TV that was mounted on the wall. They may have withdrawn from politics, but their espionage network still seemed to be functioning quite well, Calvin noted. The president turned and motioned for Calvin and Steropes to join him next to it.
“Those are my pictures?” he asked Steropes.
“Yes,” agreed Steropes. “All of them.”
“And what do I have to do this time?” the president asked.
“Wait a minute,” said Calvin. “What is this? Blackmail?”
“Yes,” answered the president, “they have been blackmailing me. You expect me to believe that you weren’t part of it? Wait! I recognize you. You are the American hero that stopped the attack. Of course! You’re in on it.”
“No, Mr. President, I was completely unaware of this before now,” replied Calvin. “I was just at a meeting of the Terran government, and we need your nation to join us if we are to have a chance of defending our world. There are aliens coming that will destroy us all. I knew you were deceived into attacking the United States, and that the Psiclopes had something to do with it. I asked Steropes if he might know of a way to get you to join the Terran Federation. He said that he did, and then he beamed us here, but he has yet to tell me why.”
“Arges was blackmailing him,” said Steropes. He turned to the president. “I never knew what leverage Arges had over you Mr. President, but something he said to me after we were banned from the Vella Gulf got me thinking. He said something like, ‘well, I can still make the Chinese dance,’ or something like that, so I knew he had something. It wasn’t hard to figure out what, once I asked the Vella Gulf’s AI a couple of questions. Personally, I am sorry he did this to you.” He handed the president the briefcase.
“Don’t you want me to promise to join before you give me this?” the president asked. “What are you not telling me?”
“I am not hiding anything,” answered Steropes. “I am here to right a wrong that was done to you. I can’t make what Arges did right, but I can at least remove the hold he had over you.”
“So I am free to choose to join or not, as I alone decide?” asked the president.
“Yes,” said Steropes, “although I hope you will choose to join. The need is dire. We expect the planet to be overrun sometime within the next six months.”
“Then we had better get moving,” said the president, tossing the briefcase onto the bed. “Although we withdrew politically, we have kept tabs on what was going on, and we are aware of the Drakul menace. We knew that you would need us eventually, and have been mining and storing all of the raw materials we could. I knew that one day the need would be terrible enough that you would come to us; I wanted to be prepared for that day.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have any thulium,” Calvin asked, “would you?”
“That is one of the so-called ‘rare Earth elements?” the president asked.
“Yes, it is,” Calvin replied.
“Then we should have at least a ton of it,” the president answered. “We have at least a ton of all of them. There’s just one thing.”
Calvin’s eyes narrowed. “What’s one more thing?”
“I will give you all of these things,” the president responded, “and we will join the world government, but I want one thing in return. I know that you are about to leave on a mission. I want my son to be part of it. He has about 2,500 hours of flight time in tactical jets. I think he would make a nice addition to your squadron.”
“Umm, I don’t have any say in that,” Calvin replied. “All of the manning is done by a selection board.”
“You were able to get the government to let Steropes go along with you,” the president said with what could only be called a sly grin. “I think you ought to be able to get Fang in, as well. See what you can do. I would hate for all of the thulium we have stockpiled to go to waste.”
Transporter Room, TSS Vella Gulf, Earth Orbit, December 11
“Damn it!” Calvin swore as he fell a foot to the floor of the transporter room. “This shit’s no fun. I’d almost rather take a shuttle than beam someplace if I’m going to fall every time I transport.”
“Sorry about that,” Steropes replied. “I asked Solomon to aim a foot high. Better you fall a little bit than materialize too low. Until you get surveyed, it was just a good precaution.”
“Wait a minute,” Calvin said, “You told him to aim a foot high? I only fell about six inches when we beamed down. If I’d have materialized a foot lower...”
“It would have been really painful,” answered Steropes. “Good thing you weren’t really unlucky today, isn’t it?”
“Fuck!” swore Calvin. “That’s not funny. You could have killed me!”
“It was very unlikely,” Steropes replied. “Solomon’s beamings are within a foot of ‘on target’ in 99.3% of transits. You were fine. Besides, we needed to do it.”
“We did,” Calvin agreed. “But next time, how about telling me, so that I at least have a say in whether or not I kill myself?” Calvin asked.
* * * * *