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  “And why do we need such a weapon?”

  “Have you not seen for yourself? How close we came to war? Imperial subspace weapon research? The Outer Rim Alliance? Don’t think for one minute we’re rid of them. And if Ben James’ claims are true, then the ORA are far more technologically advanced than we know.”

  Aaron thought about that. “I didn’t get the impression Ben James was playing games regarding anything he said. Surely they wouldn’t have waited this long to make their move.”

  “If you take him at his word, perhaps. We don’t take people at their word. We prepare for the worse.”

  “If you prepare for the worse, sir, then maybe the worse will always happen.”

  “Rayne, put yourself in my position for a moment. Would you want to be presiding Supreme Commander of the USSF if a great and terrible enemy invaded, and we were powerless to stop them?”

  “I don’t imagine anyone would wish to be in such a position, sir.”

  “The dark matter weapon is more a deterrent than a weapon intended to be used. I’d never consider it beyond dire circumstances.”

  “It doesn’t seem we are that much different from the Imperials when it comes to ideology then, sir.”

  “We are different. Subspace weapons, I told you, they will destroy the fabric of space. The galaxy, the universe.”

  “So you keep saying. Like you’re trying to convince yourself. We are about to sign a formal peace treaty with the Empire and discuss open trade and a possible alliance. I believe diplomacy on this issue and these types of weapons should be high on the agenda during the final talks.”

  “It already is. Let us handle the politics. I want you to move up your launch.”

  “To when?”

  “Now.”

  Aaron sighed.

  Shepherd stepped through the contents of his desk laying on the deck, towards Aaron.

  “You once asked me why I chose you. Why I always choose you. I chose you because I saw in you someone who would not let the fallacies of duty or misguided loyalty cause you to do something you know is morally wrong. I know that at great cost to yourself, you will always do the right thing. Now, you have two hours to depart, Commander. Get going.”

  Aaron was glad the SC dismissed him. He didn’t know what to say. It made him wonder if the SC knew exactly what had happened after the Battle of Atlas Prime, and how Aaron was still alive.

  ***

  Crew lounge

  Phoenix

  Max leaned forward at the lounge table. “The deal is sealed. The Commander is hitched.”

  Lee leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Finally.”

  Flaps was oblivious. “You’ve lost me, Doc.”

  “Rachael and Aaron, Flaps,” the doctor said.

  “What are they hitched on?” he asked.

  Lee rolled his eyes. “Each other. They’re hitched on each other. Haven’t you noticed how they stare awkwardly at one another on the bridge and always seem to avoid each other?”

  “No. I’m busy flying the ship. Why are we prying into the Commander’s business? This makes me uncomfortable. We’re not a bunch of kids.”

  Addmittedly, that was true. Flaps made a good point—as much as Lee hated to admit it.

  “Normally I’d agree,” Lee told the pilot, “but the Commander has been wound up so tight, he’s almost forgotten what he’s fighting for in the first place. He’s overly sensitive to everything. And because he’s family, just like you—and because we care what happens to family—his problems are our problems. Just like your problems are our problems.” Lee paused. “Your numerous problems for which you need professional help.”

  Flaps wasn’t amused. He had a clueless look. “Sounds reasonable. Except the part about my problems. Don’t throw stones from a glass ship.”

  Lee chuckled. Apparently, the ensign had been doing some reading.

  “The life of a captain can be a solitary one, Flaps,” Max said. “They have to be larger than life, a beacon for the crew. Have the answer for everything. Always make the right decision. The consequences of being wrong can lead to deadly results. And you know full well the Commander has been there. And you were there with him aboard Trident.”

  “Oh. I just fly the ship. You make it sound so complicated.”

  Max sighed. “He’s not been the same since the Battle of Atlas Prime. He’s more broody. Not his chipper self.”

  Flaps nodded. “That I’ve noticed. Didn’t know it had to do with Lieutenant Delaine.”

  “Well it does and it doesn’t,” Max said. “She can be his guiding light in a sea of darkness.”

  “Very poetic, Doc.” Lee said.

  “So what do we do?” Flaps asked.

  Lee regarded him. “Like what?”

  “Celebrate or something?”

  Lee shook his head. “Flaps, at twenty-five years, you should be more in tune with these things. Do you wear some kind of virtual blind fold?”

  “Twenty-five? I was barely six months out of Academy when I was posted to Trident. I’ve now reached the illustrious, glorious age of twenty-three.”

  “That explains everything,” Lee said.

  “What does?”

  Lee fixed the pilot with a serious look. “Twenty-three. No one likes you when you’re twenty-three.”

  “I don’t get it.” Flaps said. The pilot gave Max a questioning look.

  Max shrugged. “Neither do I.”

  Lee shook his head at them. “Never mind . . . something I heard somewhere.”

  “So, Doc,” Flaps said, changing the topic, “you remember Lieutenant Commander Ayres? Now Commander Ayres? What do you think my chances are with her?”

  “Zero!” Lee said, before the doctor could answer.

  Flaps stared back.

  “Ha! I knew it,” he said.

  Lee was puzzled.

  “I saw you eyeing Commander Ayres last time she was aboard.”

  “Interesting,” Lee said. “You picked up on that subtlety and missed the Commander and Lieutenant Delaine?”

  “Don’t try to change the subject, Lee.”

  “Change the subject about what?” a new voice asked.

  They all turned. Lieutenant Delaine was standing behind them.

  Rachael joined them for their off duty tradition in the lounge. Every evening (ship time) without a break when duty permitted, they met at this table. Lee never would have thought he’d grow to be so fond of the spy lady. When he first met her, it seemed she didn’t even know how to smile. Now, he couldn’t imagine life aboard the ship without her. She certainly had a great sense of humor, it had just taken a while to peel back the layers she guarded it with. And she could certainly roll with the punches. She was a genuinely lovely person.

  There was a long silence.

  Lee panicked. “Nothing, Lieutenant. We were just discussing Reliant’s misaligned stabilizing inducers.”

  Around the table, Max fiddled with his drink and Flaps looked like he wanted to melt into the deck.

  “Malcolm, didn’t I tell you to stop calling me Lieutenant when we’re down here?”

  Lee winced at her use of his first name. “You did.”

  She smiled. “Then stop being difficult.” She sat opposite Lee. “So what about them?” she asked.

  Lee gave her his best, confused look. “What about what?” he asked

  “The ‘misaligned’ stabilizing inducers you were discussing. Besides the fact none have gone out of alignment since the twenty-second century.”

  That cued Max.

  “Gentlemen, I just remembered Sergeant Dawes has a physical at—oh right now. Gotta go!”

  Max scurried away.

  Rachael narrowed her eyes. “Malcolm Lee. You tell me right now what you were discussing before I arrived.”

  The intercom overhead saved the day.

  “Lieutenant Lee and Ensign Miroslav, report to the bridge, immediately. Departure schedule has moved up.”

  Flaps was nearly out the
door before the announcement finished.

  Lee wasn’t far behind. “Sorry, Rachael, duty calls. I’ll see you at the secondary tac station.”

  Lee was certain his back burned from her glare as they slipped away.

  Chapter 16-Marcus

  “I don’t care how it works. Only that it does” – Marcus Sotomerius, Heir to the Empire

  Imperial heavy cruiser—Tiberius

  Draconis

  Marcus Maximus Sotomerius marched along the deck heading for the main bridge. The test was ready and the ship’s commander awaited command from his exalted self before they dared to begin.

  He entered the bridge. An attendant floated in and unhooked Marcus’ cape and returned to his position at the back of the bridge with it folded on his arm. The vessel’s commander, a weak, crooked looking naval officer approached. Who put this husk in command of this operation?

  “My Lord, apologies for the delay, we are ready to begin and await your gracious word,” the commander bowed and waited.

  “Get on with it.” Another day spent on this warship while in this backwater system was intolerable. The complete secrecy of this test meant he had to forgo using his pleasure cruiser escorted by his usual squadron. He’d had to endure his advisors pleading that he remain unseen until the right time.

  That time approached. Very soon, he wouldn’t have to skulk around like the plebeians. No matter, it would be worth it. He would soon be Emperor. He’d lock away his insufferable little brother Cato on a prison planet somewhere. Father would be dead. How dare father contemplate naming Cato as Emperor? Never in the history of the Empire had an Emperor named a younger son as successor.

  The old fool was truly senile.

  The plebeians reported the proceedings. “Containment on subspace torpedo is released.”

  The vessel’s commander ran through the test.

  “The targets are in position, my Lord. Please cast your eyes to the derelict ships.”

  Marcus did so.

  “Lord, when the torpedo reaches a pre-determined location, it will detonate. This detonation can be triggered before and delayed if desired. The resulting display is what you are most interested in.”

  “I don’t care how it works. Only that it does. Don’t presume to know what I am interested in either. Get on with it.”

  The vessel commander bowed even lower.

  “Fire,” he said.

  “Torpedo on course.”

  “Tracking, one-hundred thousand kilometers. Five-hundred thousand kilometers. One million kilometers.” Pause. “Detonation.”

  The sensors recalibrated, blinded by the massive interference released by the torpedo’s detonation.

  “Successful detonation. The weapon energies are expanding.”

  The energies swallowed the derelict ships, completely vaporizing them.

  “Energies proceeding to second target.”

  Beyond the first derelict ships, another set drifted.

  “Energy wave weakening.”

  The wave faltered. Small scatterings of debris remained when it passed the second group of derelicts.

  “Full scan. Analyze the target areas.”

  Three minutes later the operations officer reported. “Scan complete. Total destruction on first target. Total destruction on second target. Debris field left in the wake on second target.”

  “My Lord. The test is complete and a hundred percent success achieved.”

  “What about planets?”

  “My Lord?”

  “Will it work against a planetary body? My question is simple enough to understand.”

  “We’ve never tested it against such a target, my Lord. We weren’t awar—”

  “That’s the problem isn’t it? You presume too much. That airless rock orbiting the third planet. Fire another one.”

  “My Lord, these torpedoes are finite. We have only produced three thus far. Another three are near completion. The process is incredibly difficult and hazardous. We should not waste—”

  “You will either fire the weapon or I will strap you to it and have your replacement fire it! Your choice.”

  The fool turned to the tactical officer. “Prepare the second torpedo at once!”

  Ten minutes later nothing happened.

  “Plebeian. Where is that weapon?”

  “We are ready momentarily, Lord.”

  Marcus breathed deeply.

  “Torpedo is loaded, Commander,” the tactical officer said.

  “My Lord?” The commander inclined his head.

  “Yes, on with it.” Marcus waved his hand.

  “Fire,” the commander said.

  “Torpedo tracking and stable on target.”

  “Detonate,” the commander said.

  “Detonating, one million kilometers from target.”

  “Detonation complete. Breach is forming.”

  The breach engulfed the planetoid.

  Large chunks of the broken target drifted and rotated. “Test successful.”

  Marcus allowed himself a smile.

  “The object has been annihilated, Lord.”

  “Excellent. I expect the other three torpedoes you promised to be ready within the month. It is a bold new beginning for the Empire, Commander. And you are part of it.”

  Chapter 17-Once More Unto the Breach

  “Intel has been wrong before” – Commander Avery Alvarez

  Phoenix, docked

  USSF HQ

  Aaron sat on the bridge as the crew went about checking off the departure list. Once more unto the breach. Until he spent the past weeks overseeing the repairs of Phoenix, he hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed the time to think—without moving from one crisis to another.

  It had been almost a year since he last glimpsed Trident from an escape pod. The ordeal didn’t wear on him as much now, but still, every time something reminded him of that day, the memory would flash in his mind’s eye. It wasn’t a memory which played out like an old movie, but a memory where he experienced every moment in as little as three seconds.

  In those three seconds, he’d see the entire incident . . . and feel the initial gut-wrenching fear for the would-be passengers aboard the freighter which in the end didn’t exist. The moment when he realized Trident was crippled—a mortally wounded starship. Followed immediately by the soul crushing angst of ordering his crew to abandon ship. Then the memory faded as Vee tossed him into the escape pod, and he caught that final glimpse of Trident as it spun out of control and exploded—scattering what had been his home on the frontier—across the void.

  The largest piece of her hull must still be out there spinning endlessly in its eternal graveyard.

  The Fleet tribunal followed next—and the guilt. He’d lost twenty one of his endearing crew. A crew he’d bonded with for two years. The faces of the men and woman would flash in his mind, sometimes calling to him. We trusted you and you let us die.

  What hurt the worse was the Fleet was right. They’d suggested he’d someday get his crew killed. And although he almost believed the manner in which it happened couldn’t have been avoided, it still stung.

  Aaron swore never again. If in the future, he ever had the privilege of command, it would have to be an unnatural and unstoppable force to get past him to his crew. He’d promised himself. And he’d kept that promise so far. He didn’t want to push fate any further. How many more times would they escape on a hair? How soon until his luck ran out? The more Shepherd pushed his way, the sooner that day loomed.

  During his recently concluded meeting with Shepherd, the SC told Aaron his reasons for choosing him in the aftermath of Trident’s destruction. Maybe it was the instinct of someone who had such a large responsibility. Although Aaron had just lost his ship, and got half her crew killed, Shepherd chose him to take on a mission which would determine the fate of the quadrant, the United Star Systems, and the fates of all the enclaves who relied on them to keep the peace.

  He had no idea he’d end up being drafted permanen
tly under the Supreme Commander’s personal covert operations program. He’d done one mission and hoped it would lead to another starship commission. But one mission turned into another. Although, the previous mission had been a given when Endeavor vanished in a wormhole. There was no doubt he was going to find his friend.

  Now, there was this assignment—Imperials. The déjà vu caused his head to swirl. This time the issue wasn’t between the USS and the Imperials but it seemed more focused on the Empire. Just because they were negotiating an official peace to the war, doesn’t mean they should meddle in the affairs of the Empire. Let someone else find out if the Empire has developed subspace weapons or not. This mission would only lead to another and another…

  Flaps pulled him from his thoughts.

  “Docking clamps released. We’re cleared to maneuver away from the station,” he said.

  “XO, take us out,” Aaron ordered.

  Vee stood next to Aaron. “Maneuvering thrusters one-third. Back us out nice and easy, Ensign. I’m told Mick painted a shiny new coat,” Vee said.

  “Thrusters one-third, careful of the new paint, aye.”

  Lee was at tactical. “You sure you got this, Flaps? You’re not used to flying so slow.”

  “Stick to the shooting, Lee. I’ll handle the flying.”

  Lee turned away with a grin.

  “We’re at minimum safe distance for maneuvers, XO,” Flaps reported. “We have clearance to maneuver towards the outer system.”

  “Lay in a course for Sol’s edge,” Vee ordered. “Blink drive at the Commander’s discretion.”

  Aaron circled the rear of the bridge. “Ahead one-third towards the heliopause. We don’t know when we’ll be back for certain. Let’s enjoy the view.”

  It would take sixteen hours at sub-light speeds to reach the systems edge, where they could make a safe jump to light speed (and beyond). However, with Phoenix’s micro-jump drive, giving her the ability to make a short warp jump inside the system—without being torn apart by gravitational forces—the trip could be cut to a quarter that time.

  The micro jump drive could safely charge to capacity in fifteen minutes, sooner with an emergency charge, yet potentially hazardous. Each jump would move them three light-hours.