Solbidyum Wars Saga 9: At What Price (28 page)

“What do you recommend each planet maintain for defensive forces?”

“Uh, well, you’ve caught me unprepared with that,” I replied.  “Every world is different, but ideally, the best defense is a carrier with lots of fighters.  Beyond that, it would be nice if we could configure more stellar gates so we’d be able to mobilize more quickly in the event of an attack, but because the gates need to be paired with matching sympathetic particles, the number of paired gates that would be required becomes astronomical.  So, in the end, that strategy is completely unrealistic and impossible.”

“Is there any way you can divide the fleet so they are spread out more to protect the inhabited worlds?” asked Pheosa.

“That’s exactly what Ming wants us to do.  If we have smaller groups of ships, he can quickly set up temporary gates and come in with a larger fleet to destroy our smaller flotillas.  In that scenario, it would be a war of attrition and the Federation would lose very quickly,” I said.

“Can we win the way we’re going now?” Pheosa asked.

“Honestly, sir, I don’t know.  I believe strongly that if we find Ming and destroy him, the war will be over.  However, as it stands now, if the Brotherhood keeps using the gate technology as they are now and they continue producing asteroid-ships, I don’t see how we can win.  The only good news I can bring you is that our latest reports confirm that Ming has a fatal disease and if we’re lucky, he’ll die before he defeats us.”

“Our situation is that serious?” Pheosa said.

“I’m afraid so, sir.  Up until this point, we’ve been holding our own, if you want to call losing a few thousand worlds to the Brotherhood
holding our own
.  But now that they have gate technology in addition to the asteroid-ships, I fear that even the PLABEs won’t hold them off long.  The only real hope we have is finding Ming and eliminating him.”

“I see.  What can we do to expedite finding him?” Pheosa asked.

“Honestly, what needs to be done should have been done earlier, before Ming set up such substantial defenses, only back then the Senate forbade the military from pursuing him,” I said, trying to conceal my bitterness.  “Now it’s going to be extremely difficult to find him.”

“Do what you can.  I’ll see to it the Senate gives you all the support you need.  I can’t help what the Senate did in the past, but I’ll do all I can to make sure that you have the backing of the Senate from this point forward.”

“I appreciate it, sir.  I just hope it’s not too late.  At a time when we should be on the offensive and taking back worlds captured by the Brotherhood years ago, we’re still fighting to keep what we have.  We’ve not reclaimed one world since Alamar-4.  We need more ships.  I’m not talking about fighters, but carriers and destroyers like the
GLOMAR ROSA
and unfortunately those take time to build, time that we no longer have,” I said.

“You’ve said that the asteroid-ships used by the Brotherhood are quick and inexpensive to make.  Why aren’t we producing and using those ourselves?” Pheosa asked.

“Those ships, while difficult to destroy, are flying coffins.  They have no amenities and they’re operated by a slave crew that is manipulated by drug addiction and slave collars.  The crews are forced to endure incredible hardships as they fly those ships and fight until, I’m sure, they’re dead.  They are provided with no real quarters and only the barest of provisions, and both the ships and crews are considered expendable.  To produce asteroid-ships to the minimum acceptable standards for Federation military personnel would be difficult, so I’ve dismissed the idea of developing these ships, at least for this purpose.  Of course, that decision is based on the assumption that we don’t want to lower our standards to those of the Brotherhood to win this war.  If we did we might just as well surrender to them, because we will have become them.”

“This is interesting information.  These asteroid-ships might be a worthy topic for a vid broadcast to the public.  If they want to understand the nature of this war and witness a tangible example of the Brotherhood’s overall war machine, this is as good an illustration as any I can imagine.  And if they don’t want to understand the nature of this war, it’s time we wake them up.  So just what does a crew consist of?” asked Pheosa.

“They seldom have more than a few dozen and sometimes even less than a dozen if Ming intends to sacrifice the crew and ship.  They are really little more than flying death traps.”

“I just can’t comprehend why these men don’t rebel and get rid of Ming.”

“Many reasons.  Fear, brainwashing, slave collars, drugs, and in many cases, blackmail.  Ming holds families and loved ones as hostages and tells the men their loved ones will be tortured and killed if they don’t fight.  In many cases, he’s already carried out the sentence as a threat to others he wishes to manipulate, but they don’t know it,” I replied.

“By the stars, how did a man like that ever rise to power on your world without someone killing him?” Pheosa asked in frustration.

“The same way it’s been allowed to happen here, Leader.  Apathy, complacency, the desire to not get involved, pretending the problem didn’t exist because they didn’t want to see it, all these things combined and more.” I said.  “Back on Earth the gap between those who were suffering and those who were not was enormous.  The number of people who could and should have helped to stop such madness was so vast that it was easy for the free to close their eyes and pretend it wasn’t real until it was too late.  Just like here.  The Federation may be larger and more technically advanced, but their general behavior and collective mentality are really no different than those of the people of Old Earth.”

Pheosa nodded, but he didn’t say anything more about it.  His silence was cut short by a message from Redina, “Sir, Senator Stylex is here to see you.”

“Ah, yes.  I have a meeting scheduled with him.  I didn’t realize the time.  Tell him I’ll be with him in a moment,” he replied.  Then turned to me, “You’ll have to excuse me for cutting this meeting short, Admiral, though I think we covered all the main issues.  Thank you for coming.  Keep me updated on what’s happening, so I can keep the Senate informed and off your back.”

It was nearly midday when I left Pheosa’s office.  I was hungry and really wanted to see Kala, even if only for a few minutes.  I called her to see if we might meet for lunch, only to find out she was on Earth and had just dined with Cantolla and Truath.  She asked if I’d be available for dinner that evening and I replied that I would make my best effort to be there, but I couldn’t make any guarantees and that it might a need to be a late dinner, as I had no idea how long my meeting with the Admiralty would go.  She replied that she would wait to dine with me, if it didn’t get too late.  At the same time, I looked forward to having dinner with her and I was disappointed that I had to wait so long to see her.  I don’t know why, but for some reason I ached for her company at that moment and just wanted to be with her.

I needed a momentary diversion in a relaxed atmosphere to get my thoughts together…
and
I needed to eat.  When I got back to the War Room on the
GLOMAR ROSA
I asked Marranalis, “Have you eaten?”

“No, sir.  I was just going to have Pieamar bring me something,” he replied.

“Well, get someone to take over for you.  You and I are going to lunch somewhere.  Say, does The Locker on the
NEW ORLEANS
serve any food?” I asked.

“Yes, but it’s not much, more like snack foods.  They do have some outrageous seasoned nardar strips served with rastec sauce.”

“Perfect.  Right now a cold afex and some nardar strips sounds about right to me.  That is, if it’s alright with you.”

Marranalis looked at me with a sly grin.  “Sounds perfect, sir.  Oh, by the way, your meeting with the Admiralty is in two hours.”

“Excellent, that will give us plenty of time.”

The Locker was a small pub/bar the crew of the
NEW ORLEANS
had created for themselves in one of the unused storage lockers on the ship.  It was simple in appearance and more or less thrown together using bits and pieces of shipping crates and other materials scrounged from various sources about the ship.  The walls were covered with signatures and inscriptions of crew members, including many who had died in battle.  The place was never packed, nor was it ever empty, as there was always one or two people either drowning their sorrows at the bar after a duty shift or a couple romantically staring into each other’s eyes in a corner somewhere.

Marranalis found us a pair of seat-sized crates arranged along a wall with a larger crate that served as a table.  All ordering needed to be done at the bar, as there were no waitresses or waiters.  Food was prepared by a synthesizer, so no cook was needed, and with the exception of a bartender, there was no staff.

Once we’d gotten our afex and nardar strips, Marranalis asked me, “Tibby, is everything alright?  You look tired and stressed.  Usually this soon after your treatments you’re more energetic and upbeat.  You look like you’re going into at treatment, not like you just had one a day ago.”

There were certain times and places where Marranalis and I dropped the formalities of rank and we were just friends and addressed each other as such.  The Locker was one of those places.

I sighed.  “I guess it’s just plain stress, Marranalis.  I can’t see any way we can win against the Brotherhood, unless we find Ming.  That’s our only hope – to find him and take him out.  We’ve been trying for years and we’re no closer now than we were ten years ago.  In fact, we were probably nearer to getting him then.”

“I’m taking it things didn’t go well with Pheosa?”

“Actually, it went fine.  At least he says we have the total backing of the Senate for a change, and I pretty much have the freedom to do what I feel is necessary.  But damn it, Marranalis, I’m afraid it’s too late.  If they had let us do what we needed eight or ten years ago, we probably would have destroyed Ming and the entire Brotherhood organization by now and all of this would be over.  Instead, Ming has grown in power and he’s now so heavily protected and hidden that our chances of finding him before he does serious harm to the Federation are about nil.”

“I see.  But there’s always hope that we’ll find Ming.  At any time now the FSO could uncover the lead we need to get us on his trail.”

I laughed.  “Yeah, sure.”  I raised the afex to my lips and took a sip.  The cold bitterness felt comforting and for a moment I wished I could sit there and drink myself into a stupor.  My eyes wandered across the opposite wall and managed to rest right on Sokaia’s name.  I quickly diverted my gaze, only to find them resting again on Stonbersa’s signature.  I looked down at our makeshift table as I choked back the emotion.  Two of the bravest people I had ever known.  I suddenly found myself reflecting on all those who died since I came to the Federation, starting with Reidecor and Lunnie, right up to the billions who had died at Glomar Rosa.

“Tibby, are you alright?” asked Marranalis, snapping me out of my recollection and grief.

I wiped a tear from my eye.  “Sorry,” I said as I pointed at the signatures with the hand that held the afex glass.  “I was just remembering Sokaia, Stonbersa, Lunnie and Reidecor.  I miss them.”

“I know.  I miss them too.”

“If only I hadn’t found the
TRITYTE
back on Earth, none of this would have happened,” I said.

“You don’t know that, Tibby.  Clearly, the Brotherhood was in place before you arrived and was poised to take over the Federation.  No one can say how that might have played out without you.”

“True, but Ming wouldn’t be here, if it weren’t for me.  And at the moment he’s the biggest threat to the Federation.  I doubt seriously that Roritat would have been as bad as Ming will be, if he takes over.”

“Again, you can’t know that.  The fact is, you’re here and you’re doing a tremendous job fighting the Brotherhood and Ming.  The Federation needs you.”

I’d been nibbling at the nardar strips that were served in a plastic bowl.  Any other time I probably would have loved them.  They had the same rich flavor of Earth shrimp sautéed in garlic butter, but my appetite was waning and the thoughts in my mind overrode the pleasure of their taste, making them seem bland and rubbery in my mouth.

“Marranalis, what am I to do?  If Ming increases his strikes, which I think he will, there is nothing we can do effectively to stop him.”

“I don’t know, Tibby, but you’ll think of something.  You always do.”

“I’ve been running on luck and luck doesn’t last forever.  I think my luck has run out.  There are no more rabbits left in the hat.”

“Rabbits?  Hat?  I don’t understand.” said Marranalis with a dumbfounded look.

“Oh, excuse me.  I forgot.  Rabbits were a small furry mammal on Old Earth, sort of like sabamonks on Berusius, and they breed at about the same rate, by the way.  Earth performers would do tricks of illusion, where they would show you an empty hat and then reach inside and pull out a rabbit, giving you the impression that they produced it from nothing.”

“It sounds like an interesting trick,” replied Marranalis with far less enthusiasm than I had anticipated.

“The point is, I’m stumped and out of answers and miracles.  I don’t know of anything we can do!” I said finally.

“There still hope that we’ll find Ming and put an end to him,” said Marranalis in a comforting tone.