Beyond The Frontier Page 5

  Ordinarily, a new arriving ship’s captain would exchange brief words with the current captain if the latter was being relieved, or the ship’s executive officer, and inspect the crew and that would be the end of it. But Aaron wanted to greet his new men and women. His new family. He wanted to look each of them in the eyes and convey with a silent expression that their trust in him wasn’t misplaced.

  A Lieutenant Commander stepped forward and approached. He recognized her from the crew dossiers Shepherd gave him. Alana Ayres his new Executive Officer. She had long brown hair covering her forehead—the length up to her shoulders was swept behind. She was a full head shorter, with very round features. Her small lips were a stark contrast to her very distinctive philtrum. She had a commanding presence.

  “Commander, welcome aboard the United Star Systems Fleet covert operations cruiser Phoenix. I’m Lieutenant Commander Alana Ayres, your executive officer. All crew have reported aboard,” she paused. Her tone suggested she was somewhat uncomfortable. “Save for one,” she finished.

  Aaron’s new XO was six years his junior. From what he’d read, in many ways she was like him. It appeared as though Shepherd thought to show him exactly what it was like having a subordinate with such a . . . unique personality. He wanted to laugh. Shepherd might portray the serious Supreme Commander of the Fleet, but Aaron had seen another side to him.

  Aaron didn’t need to look at the crew assembled to know who was missing. It could only be one person. The same person who insisted he was only considering voluntary assignment aboard a starship because Aaron was still his patient.

  The sound of boot heels striking the deck reached his ears.

  “Max,” he said. “You’re late. It’s improper to arrive for your posting after your commanding officer.” Aaron peered over his shoulder.

  Max pulled an anti-grav tray full of equipment and stopped next to Aaron. The doctor kept his voice low.

  “The last time I came aboard this ship you abducted me. You don’t hear me whining about it. I’m no starship explorer. I’m here for one reason. To keep your stubborn self alive. So don’t push me, or I’ll relieve you of duty before you can leave on your latest galactic adventure.”

  Ayres was straining. Difficult though it might be, she stifled the laugh.

  “Something funny, Ms. Ayres?” Aaron held a serious tone. It was all he could do to stop from laughing himself.

  It was obvious the doctor intended to give Aaron far more gripe on this venture than he ever had.

  “No, sir, nothing at all. May I present the crew, Captain?”

  Aaron half smiled. Ayres deflected that one nicely.

  He watched Max stroll to the assembled crew and join the end of the line. The doctor might want to clobber Aaron over the head but he wouldn’t push it in front the crew. Max would sure give it to him in the officer’s lounge later.

  “Lead on, Ms. Ayres. And, before we move on. I know that historically, according to naval tradition, regardless of rank, the commanding officer aboard a ship is addressed as captain. I however, prefer to be addressed by my rank if we’re being formal.”

  “Of course, Commander,” Ayres replied. She turned and motioned for him to accompany her.

  The first in line was Lieutenant Malcolm Lee. Tactical officer. A native of Rigel. His jaw rigid. Lee had short grizzly hair. His brown eyes filled with the swagger of youth, but conveyed the maturity of an experienced officer. An expert martial artist. Either Lee had grown a size or two or his uniform was a size too small. He’d lost his arm during the last mission. Imperial agents had shot it to pieces while Lee dragged Alvarez to safety during an intense firefight on Rigel. Max had successfully attached a bionic limb.

  “Malcolm,” Aaron said, smiling.

  “Commander,” Lee nodded, shifting almost imperceptibly. “You’re looking strong. Like you could fight a dozen Imperial centurions.”

  Aaron grinned. Lee was reminding him of the last time they’d been together. They had to fight their way through a mutinous legion of Imperial soldiers, aboard an Imperial ship, to save its commander, and prevent a war.

  “Indeed, Lieutenant, with you at my side of course, taking out the first ten.”

  “Indeed, sir. And please only my mother called—”

  “You Malcolm. I remember. I won’t slip again,” Aaron said. Of course he remembered, but he was just poking the sometimes edgy lieutenant. Aaron stepped to the next in line.

  “Commander,” the man said. “Master Chief Mick Garrett, I’m your engineering chief. I am assisted by Chief Petty Officer Reyes. Great to be aboard this fine ship and to join your crew. I promise I’ll keep her in tip top shape.” Garrett had a head full of thick, red hair. Bushy eyebrows and a full red beard. His long pointy nose reminded Aaron of a character from a children’s book. The name escaped him.

  Other than coming highly recommended by Shepherd, Aaron liked Garrett already. Apart from him, only the best engineers referred to their ships as she. Aaron supposed it went back to an ancient time of chivalry when men believed women were delicate creatures to be taken care of, many sea-sailors referred to their vessels similarly. Sure, women were delicate creatures.

  And they could also be raving beasts and rip your head off.

  They were unpredictable. That fact alone made women more than able warriors. They could be fierce or gentle, merciful or merciless.

  Long gone was the prejudice some held, that women were somehow not as robust as men. The only field in the Fleet men tended to outnumber women was starship command. And this was simply because women were pursuing strictly scientific endeavors in larger numbers than their male counterparts. Women were unraveling the mysteries of the universe.

  Here, however, the lead scientist on this mission was a man and the second in command was a woman. And it was likely this was Ayres’ last stop before receiving a commission.

  “As far as I’m concerned Mr. Garrett,” Aaron said. “This ship belongs to you and you’re just allowing us to borrow her.”

  “Thank you, sir, means a lot to an engineer.”

  Aaron nodded to Reyes and moved on. The next crew member was beaming a wide smile at him. If his lips stretched any farther, they might tear. His eyes were youthful and curious, his boyish grin endearing.

  “Yuri,” Aaron clapped the young helmsman on the shoulder.

  “Commander! I couldn’t believe it when they told us you were taking command.”

  “Truthfully, Ensign. Neither could I. How’s she handling?”

  “Smooth as ever, Commander! Even got her outfitted with an upgrade to the combat thrusters. Wait’ll you see what she can do!”

  Aaron smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Next in line were some personnel he wished he had on Phoenix . . . before boarding the Imperial flagship to save Lord Commander Scipio.

  “Sergeant Randall Dawes, United Star Systems Marines.” The marine gestured to the men on his left. “My humble squad assigned to Phoenix: Corporals Ubu and Chen. An honor to meet you, Commander.”

  “Oh don’t build me up till you’ve had a chance to work with me, Sergeant,” Aaron said. “Corporals.” He nodded at the two men to the left of the sergeant.

  “Commander.” They each responded.

  These marines weren’t mere “marines”. These were Covert Operations Special Force Recon Marines. They were recruited, trained and deployed solely for special operations. Every covert ops starship was assigned a group of these ultimate warriors.

  Aaron continued down the line.

  “I am Lieutenant Herman Zane, Fleet Advanced Scientific Research Division. I specialize in quantum physics and wormhole theory.”

  “Pleasure to meet you Mr. Zane. Are you settled into your quarters and work space with all your equipment? Unlike Doctor Tanner over there?”

  “Quite settled, Commander. Will we be departing soon? I’ve devoted my entire career to studying these theoretical Einstein-Rosen bridges. That they are no longer in the realm of mere th
eory . . . well excited doesn’t quite describe the feeling. Certainly you understand of course yes, Commander?”

  “I’m certain that I don’t,” Aaron replied. “This is primarily a rescue mission as much as it is a fact finding mission. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Herman might be a problem. Already fixated on his goal, and his goal alone. Impatient. Antsy. “We’ll be departing Sol shortly.”

  The last person in the line needed no introduction. It took all his will to move the next step. Aaron could recall promising himself to shoot her on sight—if he ever saw her again. That was a little extreme, since when he last saw her, he believed she’d betrayed him and the Fleet.

  Now he knew otherwise.

  She wasn’t a traitor. Far from. Still, she’d been willing to sacrifice him to maintain her cover and complete her mission to expose the rest of Ben James’ accomplices. Maybe he was taking it a little too personal.

  She swallowed when he stepped in front her. “Lieutenant Rachael Delaine. United Star Systems Bureau of Intelligence.”

  “Oh? No longer a civilian spy?” He hadn’t forgotten the lengthy lecture she’d given him on the difference between Fleet Intelligence officers, and their civilian counterparts.

  “I accepted a transfer to Fleet Intelligence. It was the only way Shepherd would allow me to take a permanent posting aboard a starship. I—”

  “Very well then, Lieutenant. Welcome aboard. I and the rest of the crew await your mission briefing at eighteen hundred. Briefing room.”

  She bit her lip. “Of course, Commander.”

  Aaron walked back to stand a few feet in front the line. He used his handheld and took a two-second recording of them.

  “Take a good look at the person next to you, and the others down the line. Many of you are already familiar with each other. Some, more so than others. I’ve been off exploring my own final frontier inside my head these past few months, while you no doubt, hopefully, have become more than strangers. You’re a family. This ship is your home. Care for it, and it will care for you. Deep space assignments can be lengthy. The bulkheads and overhead can sometimes seem to shrink. It can get lonely. A crew of less than twenty is your only contact for hundreds of light years. But I’ve come to realize all a captain needs is a good ship, and a good crew. And all they need is a good captain and faith in each other. Together there’s no challenge we can’t overcome. The Fleet is a beacon of stability in this chaotic space age. We serve the Fleet and the Fleet serves the hope of all our people. Hope for peace—among all the enclaves. Let’s get to it.”

  A chorus of acknowledgements filled the hangar deck. Max strolled over with his anti-grav tray of equipment in tow.

  “Great speech, Aaron. One for the books. Not too over the top, little of drama in some parts. But altogether not really your style.”

  Obviously, the doctor was trying to determine if any behavioral differences might be a side effect of Aaron’s comatose state these past few months, and his painful recollection of memories. He didn’t know the answer himself. Max was right, speeches . . . ceremonies and everything that went with it wasn’t his style. But Aaron felt this was the beginning of something special.

  After all, he’d practically been dead the past few months. Surely no one would mind him indulging in some melodrama.

  “I promise you, Max, when I find out, you’ll be the first to know. Now let’s get you settled in shall we?” Max appeared to study him for a long moment, then moved silently along. A rush filled Aaron’s chest as he walked with his friend.

  He felt truly alive again.

  Chapter 9 – Shame

  “Seek and ye shall find, my young friend” – Doctor Max Tanner

  Phoenix

  Ten light-years to wormhole

  Aaron stretched and put down the book he’d been reading. He had a modest collection of old paper books. When he entered his ready-room for the first time since taking official command of Phoenix, emotion threatened to overwhelm his composure. His palms were still sore from where he’d dug his nails into them.

  The source of his anxiety was the neatly placed book at his workstation, his favorite reading material: “Twenty-First Century Earth: A Comprehensive History”. It told him that Vee knew he was coming back. And his former XO knew how sentimental he was about that book.

  He’d spent the previous two days reading and touring the ship. Only two days left until they reached the anomaly. Everyone was a little anxious about what they’d find beyond the wormhole, but they all remained in good spirits. There was nothing more to be done, the ship was functioning at peak efficiency. Apart from Ayres and the marines, the others had undertaken three covert missions under Vee’s command while Aaron languished in a hospital bed. Before that, four of them, Lee, Delaine, Miroslav and Max had journeyed together for a month on the long trip to the Border Worlds.

  A covert operations crew functioned somewhat different compared to those assigned to deep space. While on deep-space assignment, a covert ops ship could find itself well outside the logistical reach of the Fleet. This made crew redundancy a concern. What happened if a critical crew member was somehow incapacitated—the engineer or the primary helm officer? Phoenix was designed for a specific mission set and only had the personnel required for that mission. Get in, get the job done, get out, and get debriefed. It’s true you couldn’t plan for every eventuality. But if you crewed and operated a covert operations vessel the same as a regular Fleet vessel, what was the point? The concept was similar to the reasons for covert vessels operating singular. You didn’t dispatch a taskforce to conduct a meticulous and discreet operation. Similar to infantry Special Forces unit, whose members had advanced training in a plethora of disciplines, each crew member aboard Phoenix had been exposed to the same with regard to shipboard operations.

  Covert operations crew personnel also received advanced cross-training in different disciplines. When it came to ship repairs and maintenance, many contemporary ship operations were automated, including damage control, unlike previous generations of starships.

  In case of rare equipment failure though, engineers still received advanced training in ship systems, to mitigate repair system failures. They understood the principles of the technology and how it worked. The work was still very technical, and it wasn’t such that a layperson could read basic instructions and have the computer do all the work.

  Everyone aboard could fly the ship, but Miroslav was the best among them. Flaps, had a natural and well-trained ability, harnessed by his instructors at the Academy. Similarly, they all received advanced marksmanship and hand-to-hand combat training. But Aaron didn’t intend to put those skills to the test anytime soon in any serious match against his recon marines.

  When it came to security, the United Fleet vetted covert operations personnel at the highest ethical standards. It wouldn’t do to have serious breaches of information or operational security from within your own elite group. The intelligence missions undertaken by similar Special Forces throughout history proved critical in many conflicts or wars, many of these conflicts occurred well outside the knowledge of the general populace.

  Aaron stretched and looked at the enlarged USSF emblem on the bulkhead—an image of an old starship breaching Earth’s atmosphere. Captain Tyler Quinn had only commanded Earth’s first warp-capable starship for six minutes. His sacrifice saved millions of lives.

  Aaron’s thoughts came around full circle until he remembered the datachip Max gave him. For your eyes only, Max had said. Not even the doctor knows what it is. He pulled it out and downloaded the contents onto his handheld. There was a letter from his mother.

  My son:

  I asked Dr. Tanner to give you this when you awoke. It tells you the history of a people you will find nowhere else. It might exist in some vault within the United Star Systems, but it isn’t taught anywhere—ever.

  Two hundred and fifty years ago, Earth was in turmoil: over population, war . . . hunger.

  Only the breakthrough of wa
rp drive calmed things when a new frontier opened up. Funded by Governments and corporations, Earth’s first generational colony ships undertook colonial expeditions in large numbers. Millions left.

  But it wasn’t enough for some people. The space race fueled new rivalries among old enemies.

  Then a man named Reminus Octavian (who we later called Lazarus) developed a technology to imprint one’s consciousness onto a clone. Earth outlawed the practice. It was the one thing Earth’s fractured Governments agreed on. But as with any banned act, the military and other private interests experimented. Cloning was easy. But no one could unlock the secrets to transcendence.

  Lazarus’ discovery was the catalyst for The Existential War as it came to be known. We could live forever. The sick, the injured, the old, could transfer their consciousness to a younger self. The Lazarus Society was born. And it exploded seemingly overnight.

  Millions pledged to Lazarus who wanted to unite Earth under one leadership, and he was popular enough and powerful enough to do it.

  But people opposed. Not only might it place the future of humankind with Lazarus if he held them for ransom with his technology. But the philosophical debate raged—what would one do with forever?

  Time is a distinct factor which drives human initiative and endeavor. If we have forever, would our inherent human ingenuity fade? More than half the world believed so.

  The war was fought from 2250 to 2253. Hundreds of millions died. We almost set ourselves back to the Ice Age. But the forces of United Earth, at least those united against Lazarus prevailed.

  Overzealous soldiers committed genocide against our Society. They blamed us for the war, and we had to pay for what we’d done.

  A door chime indicated he had a visitor. Whatever his mother was on about, he was certain he didn’t want to read it in passing. He set it aside for later.

  He passed his hand over the console on the work station and his visitor entered.