They were inseparable over the next few days of their shore leave. Together, Yen and Keryn toured the restaurants of the space station. Yen accompanied Keryn on shopping excursions through the business level during the day. And they spent each night wrapped in each other’s embrace. Though they slept little, they awoke refreshed, beaming with happiness as they went about their day, hand in hand.
After a few days of total isolation, they agreed to join Adam and Penchant for a late lunch. By the time they arrived, the restaurant was busy, though Adam’s towering Pilgrim frame was easy to spot from across the room. Pulling chairs up side-by-side, Keryn and Yen sat at the table.
“If you two don’t stop, I’m going to be sick,” Adam stated without allowing for so much as a hello.
“What are you talking about?” Yen asked.
“The smiles. The hand holding. The exuberant joy as though he just popped the question.” Frightened by his own accusation, Adam lowered his voice. “He didn’t pop the question, did he?”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Keryn exclaimed. “We’ve been dating for a couple days now. Give it some time.”
“At least a week or so,” Yen added.
Adam rolled his eyes and turned toward Penchant. “Back me up on this, buddy.”
Penchant turned his featureless oval face toward the adoring pair. “Lithids don’t show a lot of public affection. If I had a mouth, I’d be frowning in displeasure.”
“You’re both insufferable,” Keryn sighed. “Can’t you just be happy for us?”
“No,” Penchant said flatly.
“Probably not,” Adam quickly added.
Their food arrived while they were still laughing. They ate slowly, engaging more in conversation than taking the time to finish their food. The early afternoon lunch crept into late afternoon and threatened early evening. Around them, the daily syndicated television shows gave way to news broadcasts. As had been the case for the past few weeks, stories of heroism and loss from the Alliance and Empire battle dominated the airwaves. During their conversation, they mostly ignored the news stories. Having lived through the experiences, the stories seemed somehow hollow and contrived. They were full of memories that not one of them wished to relive. Most importantly, the news insisted on showing photo montages of those who had perished in the battle. It was much too painful for survivors to experience day after day, so they had subsequently tuned out the news as a whole.
During their meal, though, with the news in the background, they suddenly became aware of a hushed silence in the room as all eyes were turned on the multitude of monitors that lined the walls of the restaurant. Turning, they saw that where normally a dozen or more programs would be playing simultaneously, now all the screens reflected the same image. An empty podium stood before a large banner bearing the blazing red emblem of the High Council. After what seemed like an eternity, a middle-aged Wyndgaart approached the podium and turned toward the cameras. His crimson eyes were flat and revealed nothing but somber composure as he spoke.
“Good evening,” he said, his voice clear and strong. From within the folds of his robe, he pulled out a thin, flexible console. All four people around the table could see the image of the High Council shining through the thin console, a scrawl of words quickly rolling by. Reading directly from the vellum, the Wyndgaart read the High Council’s message.
“One hundred and fifty years ago, the encroaching Terran Empire drove a juvenile Alliance to the brink of extinction. In response, the alien races banded together and faced this threat in one of the most brutal and deadly wars ever recorded in known history. As a result of that war, the Empire was driven back to its own space. The precepts of the Taisa Accord, signed that day a century and a half ago by both ruling parties, clearly defined the occupied territories of both the Empire and the Alliance. Though small intrusions in violation of the Accord have existed, never has either side been so brash as to directly contradict the precepts laid down by our forefathers.
“Nearly three months ago, the Terran Empire made the first move in violation of the Accord, by openly encroaching into Alliance space. Our response, as must be the case, was swift and aggressive. The Terran Fleet that was sent across the Demilitarized Zone was demolished, struck down by our superbly trained pilots, soldiers, and Crewmen. The High Council extends its deepest thanks to all those who participated in the battle, both those who survived and those who paid the ultimate price in protection of our way of life.”
The Wyndgaart looked up, no longer reading from the console. “Not all the Terrans were killed in the battle. Some were taken as prisoners and their technology salvaged from one of their Destroyers. The combination of the two revealed some startling discoveries. We have discovered that the Terrans have been waging an underground war in Alliance space for decades, undermining the independence and sovereignty of our colonies. They have done everything short of openly declaring war between our two cultures. The extent of their offenses are so vast and disturbing, they cannot be shared in a forum such as this.”
Keryn swallowed hard, knowing where the course that his speech would soon take. The spokesman returned to his pre-written notes before reading the official declaration. “These atrocities cannot go unpunished. The High Council declared war on the Empire when they encroached on our sovereign space. At that time, we were a reactionary force, responding with violence to the intrusion of the Terran Fleet. Our time of being reactionary is now at an end. From this moment on, the Alliance will be on the offensive, pressing our advantage against the Empire until every last Terran soldier is defeated and every last Terran ship destroyed.
“One hundred and fifty years ago, the burgeoning Alliance fought the Terrans to a standstill. We are no longer a youthful conglomeration of races. Today, we are a unified front, powerful and deadly. There will be no stalemate this time. There will be no Accord signed when all this is completed. This time, we will bring the Empire to its knees before we take its head.”
With no more pomp and circumstance, the Wyndgaart stepped off the podium and disappeared off the screen, leaving the audience staring in wonder. As quickly as it had happened, the screens turned back to the evening news anchors, who sat dumbfounded in front of the cameras. Clearly, they had not been briefed on the message beforehand, and now they scrambled to cover the news story as it unfolded.
As quickly as the monitors had gained their attention, the four now quickly ignored the telecasters. Turning to one another, they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Keryn glanced up once at the monitor, feeling a deep seeded hatred toward the Wyndgaart spokesman. It had been easy to stand before a camera and tell the known universe that there would be a second Great War. But the spokesman wasn’t a soldier, nor were the High Councilmembers. They were politicians who made tactical and militaristic decisions based on anger, frustration, and intelligence passed along second or third hand. They weren’t members of the Fleet or Infantry who would have to lay their lives on the line in order to succeed at their own aggressive plan. In that respect, Keryn realized just how alone the four people at the table truly were.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Adam said, breaking the silence.
“Which part?” Yen asked sarcastically.
“How much more ‘offensive’ could we get? I mean, we were fighting for our lives against six Destroyers. What do they want from us now? Planet hopping? Wiping out one outpost after another until we finally reach Earth?”
“You joke,” Penchant growled, “but this war won’t be won until we reach Earth. You thought the Fleet was tough, just wait until you run headlong into the Earth defensive system.”
“I heard about that,” Adam added excitedly. “After the battle with the Lithids and the defeat of their Fleet, the Terrans were sure the Alliance would bring the fight to their doorstep. So the Terrans chose to hide on Earth, and built a grid system in orbit around their homeworld. That thing’s supposed to be damn near impregnable.”
“So we’re just supposed to fly right into a satellite grid’s laser defense system?” Yen asked angrily.
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Keryn said, holding up her transponder. They could all hear the low humming tone that signaled a recall to the Revolution. Moments after Keryn held up her transponder, everyone else’s began to vibrate and emit the same tone. “We’re being recalled. Grab your stuff and meet me back at the ship.”
Quickly parting ways with the other two, Keryn and Yen hurried back to their hotel. The streets were already packed with Fleet personnel all hastily checking out of their rooms. The signal they had received was not isolated to the Revolution. Every Fleet ship docked at the Farimas Space Station had sent out their general quarters message, recalling all personnel.
Keryn packed exceptionally quickly, knowing that as the Squadron Commander, she would have more responsibility in the next couple days then most on board the Revolution. Yen seemed lost, not quite certain how his infiltration team would fit into the grand scheme of an Alliance assault. The directive was surprising and would be attempted on a scale far surpassing anything else attempted since the days of the Empire’s Manifest Destiny Directive. To Keryn, her feelings alternated between excited and frightened. She hardly paid attention as she finished packing and wasn’t even sure if she had remembered everything before hurrying downstairs. Keryn sat by impatiently while Yen checked out of the room. As soon as he was done, they left the hotel and ran through the streets, toward the lifts that would take them to the outer ring.
As expected, the lift was packed with returning personnel. As soon as she approached the kiosks that would scan them back off leave, Keryn swiped her card and was surprised to be met on the other side of the kiosks by a pair of burly Fleet security guards. Their shoulder patches identified them as belonging to the Revolution, though she didn’t recognize their faces.
“Commander Riddell,” one of the two said in a tone that made it more of a statement and less of a question. “You are to accompany us at once. Captain Hodge has a vital communication for you.”
“What about Magistrate Xiao?” she asked, gesturing toward Yen.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the other guard chimed in. “Our orders were for you alone.”
Keryn turned toward Yen and shrugged apologetically. “Get on board and find the others. As soon as I get done with… whatever it is that I need to do, I’ll find you.”
Nodding, no longer showing the public affection for which they had quickly become renowned since they were once again in uniform, Yen turned toward the lift and was quickly lost in the sea of pressing bodies. Following the guards, Keryn was led to a private airlock, on the far side of which was docked a small transport ship. Motioning for her to step inside, Keryn found herself in the surprisingly spacious confines of a private transport. The entire ship was richly upholstered and, though it could have easily sat nearly two dozen soldiers, it had seats for only six. The rest of the space was filled with personal console tables.
As she looked around, both stunned and confused, the cockpit door slid open and Captain Hodge emerged into the crew compartment. Her smile seemed strained as she shared it briefly, but it was quickly replaced by her stoic demeanor. Wordlessly, Captain Hodge sat down heavily into one of the chairs, gesturing for Keryn to sit in a chair across a console table from her.
“I’m sure you’re a little confused right now,” the Captain said in her melodic tones.
“That’s an understatement, ma’am. I don’t think I’ve had a chance to think straight since the news conference.”
Captain Hodge nodded knowingly. “I understand, but I can’t help you. I told you before that there were many things going on that I couldn’t tell you about, simply because of their classified nature. Now, there are things going on that I can’t tell you about because I simply don’t know myself.” She reached into the jacket pocket on her uniform and pulled out a small disk. “I was given this with direct orders to bring the disk straight to you. I was not allowed to view the contents, nor am I allowed to be in the room when you watch it. This is truly for your eyes only.”
Keryn stared at the disk as it was placed in her hand. With no more words shared, Captain Hodge stood and exited the airlock at the back of the ship, disappearing into the throng of people still waiting for the elevator within the space station. Hesitantly, Keryn turned back to the disk still resting in her hand and was suddenly very aware of the console built into the desk in front of her. Alone in the crew compartment, Keryn slid the disk into the slot on the side of the console and sat back in the plush chair.
The blue screen of the console flickered to life before turning an inky black with a vibrant red symbol in the middle. Slowly, that too faded away, leaving Keryn looking at a horseshoe shaped conference desk, behind which six wizened and cloaked figures stared back at her.
“Hello, Commander Riddell,” the elderly Wyndgaart High Councilmember said. “We have a special mission for you…”