Mike Shepherd - Welcome Home / Go Away

“We need to keep their attention all the hell and gone over there,” Mac said.

“And how do you propose we do that?” Crossie shot back. “I still have no idea how Kris got those eight battleships and four corvettes all the way over there. I’ve read the account of her battle twice, and it seems like there was more luck involved in her battle than any sane commander has a right to expect. Anybody here have any idea how someone kills the next one of those monsters?”

Nobody offered a suggestion. Trouble just shook his head.

Ray took a while to absorb his chief spy’s horror story. When he spoke, it was slowly, as if he were thinking out loud.

“We need to get some kind of fleet over there to at least give the aliens a bloody nose the next time they go after that planet. Something that will give them enough of a fight that they figure we just got lucky last time, and there’s no need to go looking for something, or someone, else.”

“Who you going to volunteer for that suicide mission?” Trouble asked.

“This is all a pipe dream,” Mac said. “A fleet requires a base force. And if you’re going to put it all the way to hell and gone, they’ll need a fleet train. This is not a small sacrifice you’re talking about. This is a major investment and one we’re going to lose. Totally lose. I hear you, Your Majesty, and Crossie, wondering where you are going to get a fleet to defend human space. Why are we talking about throwing away a big hunk of our limited assets when we don’t have anything close to what we need for our own critical defense?”

The room fell very silent on that thought.

Around Trouble, the others began to once again immerse themselves in the report. Maybe there was an answer buried somewhere in it.

A half hour later, Trouble was tired of his brain’s running around in a hamster wheel, going nowhere, but doing it with a whole lot of effort.

“Ray, is that wall screen of yours secure?”

“As secure as anything in this room,” the king muttered.

“Mind if I use it to organize my thoughts?”

“Help yourself.”

“Okay. Priority one, we have to defend human space. Iteeche space if we can.”

Those words appeared on the wall monitor, replacing a lovely picture of a running brook in autumn that had not been helping anyone feel calm.

“Secondly, it would be nice if we could put up enough of a fight all the way on the other side of the galaxy so that these alien murderers didn’t come hunting for the ‘real’ source of their most recent defeat.”

“I’m not sure that qualifies as second priority,” Crossie said.

“We’ll argue numbers later,” Trouble retorted.

“We need to outpost all the star systems in human space,” Mac said, the practical military planner. “If some alien scout jumps into our space anytime soon, we need to know it. Maybe we can deploy an interceptor force to take them down before they see too much and report. Yes, yes, I know,” Mac said, waving Crossie back into his seat. “The more hot datums we give them, the more attention we’ll draw. Still, they’re just guessing there is something over here. They don’t know.”

“No,” Crossie growled, “I wasn’t coming out of my seat to argue with you. We also need to build an early-warning system of buoys out beyond our space.”

“First, we picket our own systems,” the king said, “then we get outposts. First things first.”

“And the nice thing about this is that it’s not going to cost us an arm and a leg,” Crossie said. “Just drop off some cheap warning buoys. Any schooner or corvette can do that.”

“And if we do get scouted,” Trouble said, “we can let everyone know it’s not just way out there, but getting real close here.”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it,” Ray said. “And I do like your idea, Mac, of getting some cruiser squadrons deployed to back up the pickets. Did Kris give us a report on how big that scout ship was?”

Mac found that reference and pointed it out to the King.

He whistled. “That big? Ouch!”

“I don’t think they go in for small,” Trouble said. “If they’ve been in space for a hundred thousand years and can exploit all the resources of a system, no wonder they’ve got a lot of crap.”

“But if they’ve got access all the resources of a system,” Mac said slowly, “why pillage a planet down to bedrock? Bringing stuff up from a high-gravity well like that planet they raped has got to be a whole lot less efficient than just drilling the stuff out of an asteroid.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” the king agreed.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” Trouble said.

“In what way?” Crossie asked.

“We exploit resources because we need them. Right?” Trouble said.

“Of course. Why else would we go after any resource?” the king said, annoyed by the drift of this conversation.

“But what if killing the intelligent life was the main reason for landing, and the extraction of resources was just a way of marking their territory?”

“Not just kill them, but desecrate the corpse?” Mac said.

“Yes,” Trouble said.

“That’s just sick,” Crossie said.

“Sick, but something we’ve got to consider about our new best enemy,” the king said slowly. “Trouble, have I ever told you that I hate you?”

“Regularly, Ray. Kind of like old times, ain’t it?”

“Too much like old times,” the king growled. “Okay, okay. Back to Trouble’s board. Is there anything else we should put at the top of our Do or Die List?”

“Maybe move the outposting to a subcategory under defend human space,” Crossie said.

“Crossie, you’re quibbling and not adding anything,” the king said.

For a long minute, the four men eyed the board… and came up with nothing.

“Okay,” the king said. “Now, how do we defend human space? And I include in that getting the budget we need to build a battle fleet and the people to crew it. Several of them, as well as put a decent defense system up on every major planet.”

“Whether they want it or not?” Mac asked.

“Whether they want to pay for it or not,” the king shot back.

“I was hoping we could just talk about the military problems,” Trouble said.

“We can’t talk about the military without talking about the money,” the king pointed out. “And we can’t talk about the money without talking about taxes. Which also means we have to talk about getting the taxpayer on board with this whole project. Don’t you just love democracy?”

“Lousy form of government,” Trouble admitted, “but the best anyone’s come up with. Hey, am I quoting someone?”

“Very likely,” the king agreed. “You can look up the quote when you have spare time. Now, boys, let’s dig in. I want ideas and I want them now.”

Ruth picked Trouble up when he finally got free. It was late in the evening by then, and he was exhausted, both mentally and physically.

“You hungry, dear?”

“No. They’ve been pouring coffee down our gullets all day, along with sandwiches. I’m too exhausted to bite anything. Just take me home and pour me into bed.”

She took him home, but he found he wanted a shower before the bed. Still, Ruth was waiting as he stumbled from the bathroom.

He hit the pillow and didn’t even bounce.

“Rough day?” was all Ruth said as she began to massage the knots in his back.

Ruth had once taken a course on massage. Trouble wasn’t sure that what she did to him was by any of the books, but there was no question that his wife’s hands roving his body was a delight to endure.

“Yeah, rough day,” Trouble mumbled into the pillow.

“You want to talk about it?” was accompanied by hands working down toward the small of his back.