0300 Book 2 - 8. Chapter 8: Code Red 5

Chapter 8: Code Red 5

“This is Fleet Captain Stewart. Code Red 5. Possible hostile forces in strike range. Request Honolulu, Kyoto, Charleston, Adelaide . . . . ” I read off the names of the ten closest armed ships: two battle ships, four cruisers, and four destroyers. “ . . . take station surrounding a point 10 degrees forward of L5. Pass through shuttlecraft with recognizable IFF; stop and board, or destroy all others.

“Request USF Isaac Newton take station same point to monitor. And put a science team from CERN-Higgs on the Newton as soon as possible.”

“You got this figured out, Paul?” It was Admiral Davis on a tight band directly to my console.

“No sir, still working. So far, shuttlecraft of unknown forces but with acceptable IFF are bringing in wounded. Nightingale Flights, and they appear to be good guys, even though they’re not ours. More to follow, sir.”

“Davis, out.”

I didn’t realize how much I had been worried, but the look on my face, or perhaps the sweat dripping from my nose onto the console gave me away. The kid on comm grinned and gave me a thumbs up. Hell, he’d earned the right to a little informality—and he was sweating as much as I was.

“Any other hospital ships report experiencing this? Any planet-side hospitals?” I asked him.

“No, sir,” he replied.

“That’s enough for now,” I said. “Give me an update every hour or if something unusual happens.”

The cadet looked at me kind of funny. I was pretty sure he was about to say, Unusual? But he caught himself. I winked at him. He nodded. We had an understanding.

“Go ahead, XO.”

“Patient census at 1,018, sir. That includes the uninjured ambulatories from the shuttles. We have another 1,482 beds. Um, based on reports from triage and the shuttles still waiting clearance, we’re going to be okay on beds.”

“Comm-O, are you in contact with any of these shuttles?”

“Yes, sir!”

“My compliments to their senior officer—his name is Captain Long—and would he get his ass to this ship and the bridge as soon as operationally possible? Clean that up a bit before you send it, okay?” The kid grinned. So did a few of the rest of them. We were starting to become a team. Time for the next step in teambuilding.

“Listen up, people. What have I forgotten? What have I overlooked?”

That got a stunned silence. “Come on, guys,” I said. “Captains are not omniscient—just omnipotent.”

That got a giggle from several of them, and at least a smile from the rest. “What have I overlooked?”

“Security, sir?” A timid voice came from over my shoulder. I spun the command chair around. An ensign was sitting at the security position. As soon as I looked at him, he cringed. “Some of the kids we’ve taken on, they’re armed.”

“Good catch,” I said. The kid stopped cringing. “Send a detail to the flight deck. Relieve all our guests of their weapons, anything more dangerous than a nail file. Issue receipts. Also, confiscate any communications devices. Anyone who gives you trouble, tell them their property will be returned as soon as we find a place for them other than on a hospital ship. Remind them that this is a hospital ship.” And, in history, at least, unarmed. We don’t do that, today, but perhaps these people will accept that.

“I don’t know who they are, but I’m pretty sure they’re all military, or, at least, paramilitary. They’ll understand. Anything else?” I looked at the kid.

“No sir,” he said.

“Good work. Report when you’ve finished.”

“Comm-O? Prepare a written summary of what you told me. Add the numbers the XO has on injured and ambulatory and the ones who seem to be passengers. I’ll have an attachment. When we’re both ready, we’ll send it to Admiral Davis. Give him something to read over breakfast.

“Speaking of breakfast, XO, please have breakfast brought here for anyone who hasn’t eaten in a while, and for me.”

I spent the next thirty minutes writing a report of my conversations with the two kids in triage. I added a few speculations.

The Comm-O wrote a good summary. “Nice work, comprehensive, clear, and concise. You have a gift,” I said. “Sign your name to it.” He looked startled, but nodded. Jonathan Hanson, Cadet. I tucked his full name in my memory. I got a little smile out of him. I tucked that image away, too. We sent his report to Admiral Davis, with my report attached.

About three minutes later we got a simple acknowledged from the admiral. From Davis, that’s about as good as it got. I had mixed emotions: he trusted me, but I really needed to know what he knew about what was happening. It was then that I realized that I probably knew a lot more than he did. Including . . .

“Mr. Hanson? Please contact CERN-Higgs. I want a summary and details on everything they’re doing. Everything.”

The kid nodded, and turned to his console. About ten minutes later, he signaled me. “Sir, they’re refusing. They say the data are classified Cosmic Top Secret. Sir, I’m not cleared for that.”

That's not correct. Their data are not even TS, much less Cosmic. They’re hiding something, and they just revealed that. I typed a few lines on my keyboard. “You are, now. Get that info, no exceptions or excuses from them are acceptable.”

The kid nodded, and grinned. It was a predatory grin—his teeth were clenched and his lips curled back. Good, he’s starting to understand, I thought. Fleet is the government of Earth, and they work for Fleet.

It took the scientists at CERN-Higgs about 10 minutes to begin a data dump: a dozen yottabytes by the time it was over. Figures, I thought. Since they can’t refuse me, they’ve decided to snow me. Too bad they don’t know me. Snow me . . . know me. Hah! I’m a poet. I linked the data dump to Tobor, and sent the members of my team who were Earthside a message. Their, “Aye, aye, sir,” came back about as fast as lightspeed would permit it. You guys at CERN-Higgs are about to be in a world of hurts, I thought. There’s no better bunch of geeks with guns than my kids.

The bridge crew from the Newton had arrived and had taken over, giving my folks some down time. The former captain of the Hope was on his way Earthside in one of the Hope’s shuttles. I sat in the captain’s briefing room with Kevin and Casey from the Newton’s shuttle, the lieutenant who was the ship’s XO, my Comm-O, and my Quartermaster. Danny and George came in and took up positions by the door. I’m pretty sure Jonathan saw our eyes light up when we saw each other. I think he was jealous. I’d have to deal with that, later.

“Jeff,” I said to the XO who looked a little surprised at being addressed by his first name. “How are things on the flight deck and in triage?”

“Sir, patient intake has dropped to zero. No shuttles have arrived in the past 30 minutes. Triage is complete. There are about a dozen children still in surgery and twenty more waiting.”

He put a more complete report on the screen. I looked at it for only a moment, and then said, “You know a great deal more about how a hospital ship operates. Is all this,” I gestured toward the screen. “Is all this within normal parameters?”

Give the kid credit, he didn’t pop off with an answer, but bent over his iPad for several moments. “Not strictly normal parameters, sir, but within surge capabilities. We’ll not have to maintain surge for more than another 12 hours, which is considered acceptable.”

“Thank you, Jeff. You keep an eye on hospital operations, another eye on getting everyone settled in quarters and another on normal ship’s operations. Yeah, I know that’s three eyes. Let me know when you reach significant milestones or if there are problems you can’t solve.

“I don’t expect there to be many of those.”

I looked around the table. “I want everyone to remember something. When things were bleakest during the Franco-German war of 1916, when it looked as if England would be drawn into the war, Prime Minister David Lloyd George told his staff, ‘I will be dining with my wife, tonight. I am not to be disturbed unless there is an emergency. I define an emergency as the armed invasion of England.’

“Like the Prime Minister, when I give you a task, I give you the authority to undertake that task. I will endeavor not to give you tasks that you absolutely cannot accomplish; I will, however, delegate tasks that will stretch the limits of your training, experience, and ability.

“Take the story of the Prime Minister with you; think about it when you feel you have to call for assistance from someone higher in the chain of command. This does not mean that I will not be available anytime you believe you need me, and it does not mean that I will chastise or think less of you for contacting me. It means that I want you to develop decision-making skills. That is a process of learning. It’s my job to help you with that.

“Now, Kevin and Casey, I asked the Newton’s captain for you because I wanted someone who didn’t have either medical or ship’s duties.”

Also, because I wanted to keep an eye on you.

“A few hours ago, I asked you to figure out what was going on. What did you learn?”

Kevin gestured for Casey to speak. “Sir, this may sound unbelievable, but everything checks out,” he began.

“There are two groups of people. We interviewed several from each group: the ones in black and gray uniforms and the ones in the shorts and T-shirts.

“The black and gray range in age from about 12—16. There are between 600 and 700 of them. The Hope’s crew are working on a better count and a roster. Most are wounded—from cuts and bruises to gunshots to severe burns to crushed limbs. There are also a number of dead.

“They are definitely from an alternate universe, call it Universe 1, in which a fundamentalist religious group managed to get control of most of the United States of America and some of the rest of the world. They suspended the constitution—although they didn’t actually say that—and instituted their version of religious law. There are two other major players in world power: Muslim fundamentalists headquartered in Medina, and a Pan-Asian hegemony, centered on Formosa.

“The information about other world powers is sketchy. Most of the gray and black kids can’t read, never went to school, and don’t know much beyond religious propaganda which paints the Muslims and Pan-Asians as tools of Satan.

“About 48 hours ago, a rebellion began in the southwestern United States. The rebels were young people, cadet and ensign age, armed only with ancient projectile weapons—revolvers and rifles—bolt-action rifles! The fundamentalists, led by what these kids call Reverends, had better weapons: some semi-automatic projectile rifles, and something they called tasers, that burned and electrocuted. They also had tanks. The tanks were described like something out of the Franco-German war: those lozenge-shaped things with treads that go all the way around them.

“Something happened. A rift opened between worlds and people—the group in shorts and T-shirts—from another universe, Universe 2, one with FTL star flight, entered the fight; their shuttles brought wounded from Universe 1 into our universe, Universe 3. The shuttle pilots from Universe 2 are about the same age as our senior cadets. Their passengers are as young as six. There are some 300 of them.

“Universe 2 has energy weapons and other technology much more advanced than Universe 1. In some cases, maybe more advanced than our universe; in some cases, not so advanced. They mopped up the battlefield in Universe 1, and have brought the wounded, here. The wounded rebels, that is.

“Their government is Fleet, only it’s Starfleet.

“Some of them are from Rigel, a planet and not the star, and Endor, another planet. Both the Rigelens and Endorans are Earth-human. The planets were colonized from Earth, but are now independent.

“Their shuttles are about out of energy. And, the rift into their universe has closed. They can’t go home.” Casey looked up from his iPad. Kevin and I nodded.

“Good job,” I said. “A lot of information gathered in a short time; especially clear, given the confusion.” Kevin’s smile, his pride in Casey’s report, was brighter than the lights of the conference room. They’re quite a pair, I thought. Wonder if they’re a couple. Kevin projects a lot more than just pride in a protégé’s accomplishments. The information in that report … much more than a normal fourteen and sixteen-year-old would likely have come up with. They have some talents; maybe they just need to be awakened.

The XO spoiled the moment. “Captain Stewart, there’s a Captain Long from Universe 2 who wants to see you. He says he’s the commander of his people.”

“Good,” I said. “Maybe he can answer the question we’ve not been able to answer. Casey? Send what you have to Fleet, attention Admiral Davis. Sign your name to it, but make sure you note, somewhere, that you’re assigned to me on the Hope. The admiral doesn’t know you.” Yet, I thought. I decided against adding my own message to the admiral. He’d get all he needed to know soon enough. Besides, stringing him out, maybe even surprising him was . . . what was the expression? Turn about is fair play?

The Commander from Universe 2 looked about the same age as Danny and George, that is, fourteen. Like the rest of his people, he wore play clothes: shorts and a T-shirt. They said he was a captain, and their commander, so I stood when he came into the briefing room.

“I am Captain Stewart, commander of the Hospital Ship Hope,” I said.

“I am Captain Long, in command of whatever is here of my family,” the boy said. His voice echoed the look in his eyes—hollow, empty.

“Please, sit down, Captain Long,” I said. I introduced the staff.

“Captain Long—” I began, to be interrupted.

“Please, call me Corey,” he said. “Are all my people here? Do you know where my boyfriend, Alan Carter, is? We put him off with the youngsters when we brought the first load of wounded, here. To make more room in the shuttles.”

“Corey, things have settled down in triage; we’ve started assigning quarters to your people. We’ll locate your boyfriend. Jeff?” I nodded to the XO who quickly bent over his console.

“We’ll also get you a roster of everyone from your universe.”

“Your people said your computers recognized our IFF signals?” Corey asked.

I nodded. “They were enough like ours to pass muster. Until I learn differently, I will take that as an indication that our universes are close to one another. From what I’ve learned about the F- or Fundamentalist Universe . . . and it is not to be referred to as ‘F-U,’ except in private . . . .” That got a couple of giggles. Even Corey smiled. Good. It was getting a little too heavy in here. “The Fundamentalist Universe is a lot different from ours, in many ways.”

Corey nodded. “The rift to the F-Universe is still open. I sent a scout back. He confirmed that the rift to our universe is no longer there.”

“Is your scout back? Are all your shuttles on board?” I asked.

Corey nodded. “All shuttles accounted for.”

“Captain?” It was Kevin. “I’ve located Corey’s boyfriend. He’s on the way, here.”

“Corey, first, thank you, on behalf of the children you rescued. Thank you for risking your lives to do that. Second, welcome to our universe. We will do everything possible, and more, to situate you, refresh you, refuel and replenish your shuttles, and help you find a way home.”

Shit, Paul, can you promise that? That was George.

George, my beloved son/boyfriend, you ain’t seen nothing, yet! I will turn this universe upside down to help them.

Hey, how about me? That was Danny.

We love you, too, little brother. George replied.

I am not little! Danny responded.

And we’ll turn you upside down, too, George added. Danny grinned at the image George sent.

I gave up trying to keep up with them, and just pushed love at Danny.

Cory looked at me. You’re telepaths? And you have two boyfriends? And you do sex stuff? But, they’re kids, and you’re an adult! And, your son?

Sons, actually. May we discuss this, later? I sent. Cory frowned, and then nodded just as the door opened and a boy dashed to Cory. The boy stopped just before he could grab Corey, and looked around. Cory looked at me, and grinned. “It’s okay, Alan,” he said, and then hugged the boy, tightly.

Now I have two problems. I’ve got to deal with a Comm-O who I think has a crush on me and is jealous of my relationship with Danny and George, and I’ve got to explain to a boy from what is apparently a monogamous universe—which seems not to recognize different-age relationships—why I have two sons-boyfriends who are several years younger than I am.

My thoughts were interrupted by the XO. “I’ve got the rosters, sir. We have 285 from Captain Long’s universe, and 686 from the Fundamentalist universe. And one of them’s outside, with a card? With your name and comm code?”

“Thanks, Jeff.”

“Jonathan?” I addressed the Comm-O. “Please give Corey a communicator, command link, with the roster of his people. XO? Update that with room assignments as they become available. Give Corey everything he needs to take care of his people. We don’t know who’s in charge of the F-Universe people, yet, so you make sure they're taken care of. I think that’s four things you’re now responsible for.

“Listen up, everyone, please. The people in this room are now the Command Team. Corey? That includes you and Alan, if you are agreeable?”

Corey nodded. I kept talking. “Everyone: take a look around, if there’s someone you don’t know, introduce yourself to him. Take some time to get to know one another. I’m going to be depending on you, a lot. You’re going to be tested like never before. Our strength will come from connections, camaraderie, and confidence in each other and ourselves. Success will come from that strength.

“XO, please send the boy from Universe 1 to my ready room. The rest of you are off duty. Get some food; get some playtime; get some rest. We’ll reassemble here at 0900 tomorrow. Questions?”

There were none—or there were myriad. I left for my ready room.

In Peace, Sons bury their Fathers. In War, Fathers bury their Sons.
― Herodotus, 484—425 BCE, Earth Analogue

The ready room was a fancy office. There was a desk for me, with a bridge repeater console, a couple of chairs, and a couch. There was a big display screen on the wall. A large porthole—a window, really—showed Earth. Beautiful. The Hope was a lot bigger than any of my previous ships—and it showed in the wasted space of the conference room and ready room. It’s good to be the captain! Can’t wait to see my quarters. The door hissed open, and a boy entered.

“My name is Paul Stewart,” I said to the boy from Universe 1. “We spoke; you opened your heart to me; but we didn’t exchange names. I am sorry for that.”

“My name is Artie,” the boy said. “I don’t have a last name. I don’t know who my father was—most of us don’t.

“Why did you give me this?” He held out my card.

“Because,” I said. “You were the first person from your universe to talk to me. Because you opened yourself to someone you didn’t know. Because you trusted me and, I think, understood and accepted my oath to help you. Because I felt a great yearning when you heard me say that I had a boyfriend—actually, I have two—and, because I felt that you had strength, a strength that I wanted to know more about.”

Artie’s mouth opened; his eyes widened. “You’re telling the truth,” he said.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

Artie ticked off each point on his fingers. “Because you have me completely at your mercy, and you don’t have to tell me anything, so there’s no reason for you to lie. Because I do want a boyfriend, and I would believe up was down and black was white to get one. Because I have seen what your people are doing to help us and the people who rescued us. Because I can feel what you say, here,” He touched his heart and then his head. “And it feels like the truth. And because . . .” He blushed. “Please promise not to tell?”

“As long as it doesn’t endanger those for whom I am responsible, including you and your people, I will keep your secret, Artie,” I said.

“When the Reverends did sex stuff to me, they didn’t care how I felt. You would care.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I wasn’t quite asleep when you left. I felt you brush my hair back; I felt you crying for me. Nobody’s ever cared enough to cry.” I took Artie in my arms and held him close. I pulled him into my side. He said he felt the truth, and he felt my sorrow. Could he be . . . ? I lost that thought when Artie wrapped his arms around me, put his head on my chest, and cried. His body shook. Then, quite suddenly, he stopped crying, raised his head, and looked at me.

“Thank you. I needed that. But, there are people—my people—who need more than a good cry. Will you help them like you’ve helped me? Will you help us find a place where we can be free? Free from the fear that is all the Reverends have to offer? And, will you help us destroy them?”

I offered Artie my handkerchief. “Blow your nose,” I said, and then grinned. Artie grinned back. The crisis was over.

“Artie, you know you’re in a different world from your own. I think you’ve figured out that I’m a senior officer in that world?” He nodded.

I continued. “Artie, speaking as a Fleet Captain in our space forces, I can promise you that we will take care of your people’s injuries, feed and clothe you, provide a place for you. That’s all I can promise—”

The boy’s face fell, he opened his mouth, but I put a finger over it. “Wait. Please don’t say anything, yet.

“That’s all I can do, officially. But, here’s what else I promise. I will use every resource I have to help you and your people find a life, a place to live, people to love you and people for you to love, a place where you will never have to fear the evil of the Reverends.

“As far as defeating them, and restoring your world to sanity? A whole world? That’s a much bigger task than you and I can undertake. However, I also promise to do everything I can to make that a reality. I will try, but that’s all I can promise.”

The boy stared at me as I spoke. He nodded at every point I made. When I finished, he hugged me, and put his head on my chest, again. I hugged him back. It was a good hug.

“I understand, I really do,” he said. Then, “Paul? Can I be your boyfriend?”

“No, Artie. I’m sorry, you cannot. I have two boyfriends, and I think that all three of us could love you, but I’m not sure it would be an easy relationship. I’m also afraid of what it would do to you and us when you had to return to your universe—and we could not go with you. I’m not sure I want to face that, or to make my boyfriends face it.”

“Would you be my father, then,” Artie said.

“How would that be different?” I asked.

“Fathers and sons separate. It’s the way things are. Fathers die. Sons go off to war. I learned that much in California.”

“Hmm, how old are you? 16? And I’m not much older than that. How about brother rather than father?” I ignored that Danny and George were only a few years younger than Artie. That was different.

I felt Artie’s disappointment and understood the reason. “Oh! You really want a dad, don’t you? You really want a last name?”

Artie nodded. His eyes brimmed with tears.

“I did not know how important that was to you, Artie. Um, this is neither a little thing nor an easy thing. Will you let me think about it?”

He nodded. I felt his reluctant acceptance and think I heard, “If it’s all I can get.”

“There is a job you must do,” I said.

Artie looked at me. “Must?”

“Have I said that, before?”

Artie nodded.

“And don’t you know I mean what I say?”

Artie nodded. He ducked his head, and then grinned. “Yeah, I know. It’s just that I’ve almost never been able to trust anyone, before. It’s so new; it’s so different. I don’t know what to do.”

“Artie, you said you were a battalion commander. I’ve looked over the roster of people from your world. There’s no one, as far as I can tell, who is senior to you. That makes you the commander-in-chief of your world’s forces-in-exile.

“It’s going to be your job to put together your own command team, with intelligence officers, training officers, and half-a-dozen other kinds of officers. We’ll help, but it’s going to be up to you, in the end.

“Before you can do that, however, you must help us make sure all your people are being taken care of. Not the medical part, but the how did we get in a different world on a spaceship and what is going to happen to us part.”

I had supper brought for both of us; Artie and I talked for several hours. I invited him to the 0900 meeting tomorrow, and retired to my quarters. Danny and George were waiting for me. Their first question was when would I send for the rest of the team.

“That’s going to depend on when they solve the data problem from CERN-Higgs. And, on what they find. George? You keep in touch with them, coordinate and assess, and let me know, okay?”

The boys wanted to set up a rotational watch between themselves. They would have stationed themselves inside the door to my bedroom, even though there was a sentry from ship’s security outside. I talked them out of it. “Not tonight. ”

We were all tired. The boys had been awake for more than 24 hours. There was only a little time to talk before we cuddled, and fell asleep.

At 0845, the conference room door hissed open, and people started arriving. Danny and George led the way. Artie followed. At first, Artie was a little shy, but when Danny and George went for the donuts, Artie warmed up, and grabbed a couple for himself. By the time I walked in at 0900, everyone was in place, and the donuts were gone except for one at my place. Thanks, Danny, I sent. Could you spare it? He just grinned. At least they’d left me coffee.

“Good morning. We have an addition to the command team. This is Artie. He is a battalion commander and the senior survivor from Universe 1. His job was to get little kids who were loaded with explosives close enough to the bad guys to blow themselves up.”

That brought some wide eyes among the others in the conference room. I continued. “He was a slave to the bad guys until he escaped. The soldiers from his universe didn’t have much of a hierarchy. He is now their de facto commander in large part because we recognize him as such.”

Artie retold his story. It didn’t seem to bother him when he told of being a sex-slave to the Reverends. It shocked Danny and George, however. Danny reached over to Artie and hugged him. George followed. By the time Artie’s story was over, there were tears in all the boys’ eyes.

When he finished, we asked Artie about his world, about how the Reverends were organized, what he knew about their arms and armor, their strong points and their weaknesses.

“I think their greatest weakness is that they had never had any resistance. At least, not since about 1950 when there was a revolt in Idaho and Montana. It was suppressed, and most of the population of those states were executed. There’s never been a revolt since then, at least, not that I know of.”

“Most of the population?” the XO asked. “Of two states?”

“Yeah, almost two million people, we were taught.”

“They’ve experienced a force greater than theirs, just recently,” Danny said. “The boys from Universe 2 in boxy ‘aeroplanes’ without wings, energy weapons. What was it that Arthur Clark said? Any sufficiently advanced science cannot be distinguished from magic?”

“You’ve got something, Danny,” George said. “How did they see the attacks from Universe 2? As technologically advanced people from their own world? As people from another universe? Or, maybe, as demons from their own mythology? We need to know!”

Now you know why I love these two boys. They’re not only cute, they’re smart.

Artie thought for a moment, and then said, “We could get an idea if we could see what they’ve put on the televisor about this. That would be a place to start.”

Jonathan, the Cadet Comm-O, glanced at me, and jumped to the console. He punched buttons, waited, punched a few more, and then turned back to me. “Charleston began electronic monitoring of signals coming through the rift. They’ve figured out the codec for their television signals. They’re sending a summary file as well as raw data.

“Um, they want to know if you want it sent to Fleet Intelligence. They’re waiting for your orders.”

I froze for an instant. Then, “XO, find out what orders were sent to Charleston, and the rest of the ships that are guarding the rift, please.”