Repeat

(Originally published in the August, 1997 issue of Millennium SF & F.)

Adrenaline. Flashing red lights on a worn gray Ops panel demanded attention. Nav Officer Alrich anxiously bit his lip as he rechecked his instrument readings before announcing, "Maintaining orbit over Pavonis 2. The recon satellite was right. I’m picking up a Tark Class 8 invasion ship approaching approximately 2,000 kilometers from planet space, slowing to a halt."

A few feet away, Commander Coulter leaned forward, slowly lifting a ceramic cup to his lips. A familiar scene, he thought, one he’d often experienced as a spectator. Confrontation. Lives in the balance. Triumph or glory. Familiar, except that this time it was his life at stake and he didn’t have the benefit of an audience expecting to be entertained or inspired.

"Aaah!" Suddenly, his forward command panel was splattered.

Nearby, Attack Officer Pulley briefly looked up. "Beverage dispenser’s on the fritz again, eh?"

Hastily drying the coffee off his panel, Coulter remembered an anecdote about a pioneer Earth space explorer. Awaiting launch, the astronaut gazed upward towards the cosmos and contemplated, I’m sitting on a rocket built by the lowest bidder.

Alrich announced "The Tarks are signaling, coming up on View Channel #1."

"Good, let’s see what we’re up against," Coulter said, as he carefully put on his dress uniform jacket and switched his display screen input. The Tark leader looked different -- angular, thin, light-skinned, extra appendages. Coulter had long ago given up applying rules of beauty and ugliness to other species. Hopefully, they did the same with him. Standing stiffly, he faced his display and stated, "I am Commander Coulter of the New Alliance patrol ship Sentry 9."

The Tark leader’s lips began moving, but it took about a second before the ship’s translator device deciphered the words. "I am Dorjon and I must apologize..."

Pulley turned to Alrich and murmured "Good, maybe he’ll leave."

Dorjon continued, "We were about to test our weapon systems by destroying a pathetic looking boulder hovering over the planet, when we suddenly realized it was your patrol ship."

Coulter responded, without expression, "It is practical. The natural rock surface provides us with a thick protective hull and camouflage capabilities."

"But it has no dignity. Still I don’t blame you. I understand your masters, the Watas, built it for you to protect them while they hide."

"They're temporarily our hosts. We serve them voluntarily. Being completely non-violent, they believe we make better warriors."

"Yes, that’s what they tell you, Earthman... Am I correct in calling you ‘Earthman’? Your planet was destroyed, wasn’t it?"

"It was temporarily made barren by a comet. The Watas are helping us to re-colonize it in the future."

"Listen to me, Earthman. The Watas do not ‘help’ anyone. They tell you they will reward you tomorrow, while they ask you to fight for them today. We have known them for an epoch and they have always been that way. They have forgotten you because they are safe... with your women."

Pulley muttered "Forward lasers are charged."

Alrich whispered "It won’t do any good. We’d only get off a round before they’d sense it."

"I know, but at least it would shut him up."

Coulter took a deep breath and looked directly at the screen. Electronically, the two stared each other down. Sizing the other up. Slowly, a smile formed on his lips.

"Dorjon, I must commend you for your thorough knowledge of human psychology. Your taunts are well-delivered, with just the right touch of arrogance. I particularly like the snarl after ‘pathetic looking boulder’. Very nice. I know you’ve spent considerable time practicing it and we sincerely appreciate it. After this is over, I hope we’ll have the opportunity to share a drink at a neutral space dock where I will hopefully have the intense personal pleasure of kicking you in the nuts. If you have something resembling nuts... Excuse me... Attention computer... do the Tarks have sensitive external organs?

"Yes, the krintilees.

"Thank you computer... kicking you in the krintilees. But this is not space dock. I have three lives on my ship. Our sensors tell us you have twenty-one. So please, let’s end this false bravado.

There was a long painful pause, until Dorjon suddenly began convulsing.

Pulley observed "He’s either laughing or having a heart attack."

"Commander Coulter, you're much too funny to kill. But you must face facts. This military ship is providing security for our mining engineers. The original surveying group disappeared after they made their initial report. If you try to prevent us from landing, you will be destroyed."

Coulter answered, "I warn you. We have recently been outfitted with a new secret weapon. If you proceed, we will be forced to use it. If you destroy us, it will explode and demolish your ship."

Pause. Dorjon laughed again. "We know about your weapon systems and they're not superior to ours. If you have a secret weapon, then demonstrate it now. Otherwise, please do not insult my intelligence. We will begin landing procedures at 1200, Standard Earth time." The screen suddenly went blank.

Bluff #3 didn’t work, Coulter thought. It worked in the video. Turning to Alrich, he asked, "What’s happening on the planet? Have you been able to contact them?

"I’ve scanned all air wave signals from the planet and there aren’t any visual transmissions. However, I think that I have one of the leaders on an audio band."

"Audio only?"

"Yes, it’s on Audio Channel #1."

Coulter took off his uniform jacket and draped it over the back of his chair before sitting down and pressing the transmit button. "This is Commander Coulter of the New Alliance patrol ship Sentry 9. Is our translator device working properly -- can you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes, I can understand you."

"Are you the leader of this planet?"

Chuckle. "There’s no leader of the whole planet. I’m Denton." "Don’t you have some form of government that I can communicate with?"

"No, we’re all herd-drivers... Hold on... Hey Naret!, One Horn’s run off again behind Tall Rock. I’ll go flush him out and you stop him before he heads down to the river. Let’s do it now... Go!"

Coulter turned to Alrich. "What’s going on?"

"I think he’s chasing some sort of cow"

"...a cow?"

There were multiple exchanges on the planet before order was restored. "Sorry about that, Commander, where were we?"

"Look, Denton, we have a real situation here. A Tark invasion ship is about to land on your planet. They going to construct a mining colony for plutonium."

"I see. I just finished talking with the head of the other space ship before you called me and he said the same thing. Of course, he was a lot more forceful about it."

"What do you plan to do?"

"We’ll move our cattle over to Lost Canyon."

"And then?"

"They’ll graze there until the grass is gone, then we’ll move them again."

"What does this have to do with the Tarks."

"Nothing. You asked what we plan to do." "I don’t think you understand me. How do you plan to defend yourself against the Tarks?"

"We’re not going to defend ourselves against the Tarks." "Then you will surrender?" "No, we will not surrender."

"I don’t understand. If you’re not going to defend yourselves, and you’re not going to surrender, what are you going to do?"

"We plan to move our cattle over to Lost Canyon. They’ll graze there until..."

"Enough with the cows! Listen to me!" cried Coulter, as his fist slammed hard against a command panel. "The Tarks are deadly serious about invading your planet. Aren't you going to do anything to stop them?"

"No."

The audio channel went silent.

Pulley grumbled, "Let the Tarks have the planet, they don’t want our help."

"It's not our decision," Coulter said as he stood up, "I’ll be at my personal DataStation. Let me know if anything happens before 1200."

It was quieter in his cabin, one reason he believed Comm Central placed his personal DataStation there. Here, he could relax, contemplate, strategize. In private.

"Attention computer, display video segments related to current situation." Videos were used by the Watas to develop the New Alliance’s Space Force. Coulter remembered reading that they were once called "movies" and "t.v. shows", but he wasn’t sure why. What he did know is that he needed options. Others, mostly action adventure sequences, would provide inspiration... if he ran out of options.

Coulter always felt the DataStation display was inadequate for the action adventure videos. He remembered how spectacular they were on the large screens during training. Circling him, engulfing him... protecting him. Color, sound, music, smell, vibration. Every sense was stimulated. These videos weren't shown to the general public. No, he was remembering the special viewings reserved for Space Force cadets. One did not watch these videos, one lived them. As though your will moved the space ships through their maneuvers. Down. Left. Up. Fire!

Slender fingers tenderly squeezed the back muscles of his neck, interrupting his thoughts. "You’re too tense, it’s time to play."

He turned, stood up and gazed into the face of a blonde beauty.

She smiled seductively. "Do you love me because I relax you, or because I make you forget about relaxing?"

He gently cradled her head in his hands and looked deep into her brown eyes. "I'm sorry. I don’t love you... because I don’t know you." His right index finger gently pressed the button located at the base of her neck. Her expression froze. He reached for the wall intercom panel. "Pulley."

"Yes, Commander"

"You forgot to reset the PleasureMate."

"Damn, I’m sorry. With everything happening, it slipped my mind."

"Standby, I'm be back there in a moment."

Seconds later, Coulter was back in his command chair. "Here's what we're going to do. Shut down all power use except the control panels and weapons. Vent some of the propellant gas and set it on fire. Jettison anything nonessential that's in storage.

"Done," answered Pulley.

"Now send a distress signal to Comm Central that we have a major malfunction when we powered up the lasers, and that we're dead in space until they come."

"Done."

"Now we wait for them to come over and investigate. Prepare all weapons. As soon as they come into range, fire a full barrage."

"They're moving..."

"Good."

"...towards the planet. Away from us."

"What? They're not supposed to do that."

Alrich looked up from his display panel. "Maybe they don't know what they're supposed to do."

Coulter kept his cool. "Fine. We go to Plan B. Set auto-navigation for a collision course. Engines on full speed ahead. We're going to ram them. Now, everyone to the escape pod."

"Where do I set the landing site."

"Put us down near those cow-herders. They'll help us until the rescue ship comes."

As they floated down to the surface, the crew watched the fireball created when the two ships collided.

"So much for the Tarks, noted Coulter."

Then they saw another set of parachutes open overhead.

"Damn. They did the same thing. Get out your hand weapons, we'll fight them as soon as they come out."

As soon as the pod set down, the three ran over to the Tark landing site and stood waiting for them.

"Commander, look behind," said Pulley.

"What now?"

"Complications."

Coulter turned around and saw very large group of ragged humanoids holding knives. He turned forward and saw more of them coming over the ridge. "Great, the herders have got guts after all. They'll help us fight the Tarks."

One of them stepped forward, holding his crude blade high in the air. "I don't think so. Drop your weapons." Coulter recognized the voice. Denton. Then Denton yelled to the others, "Our new hands have arrived."

Coulter, his crew, and the Tarks were all surrounded.

Coulter stood defiant. "If you think we'll surrender, think again. You have only knives. We have Class 3 hand lasers."

"Yes, but they're a hundred of us with only knives."

Then they slowly walked forward. Coulter pulled out a PortaView looking for advice. Maybe there was something on this. But it was soon yanked out of his hands by Denton, who tossed it aside. "Stop this foolishness, there's work to be done."

On his portable translator, Coulter could hear a shabbily-dressed Tark talking to Dorjon, who'd also dropped his weapon.

"I'm from the surveying team. There's no plutonium here. They forced us to say that after they captured us."

As they were being herded off, Coulter felt the need to reassure his crew. "Don't worry," he whispered, "I once saw this video about a prison break."

Copyright © 1995 John Gerner