Story #199 - Earth's Own

Earth's Own

When men think of space, they think of vast, unsearchable tracts of formless black, of the starry night so removed from their own frame of reference. In truth, space is not so empty. In fact, space is not so far away.

***

J'nee Craulo, Premitor of the Second Fleet, was third to arrive at the blue planet that had been discovered. Both the Troolians and Biphasoids had reached it before he could, and that rankled. The High Command paid him to be the best, and it had been long cycles since any other creature had beaten him to the punch.

Scans showed the beings on the planet below had no idea three warships were hovering above their equator, and they had no way to know that the three might as soon shard each other into rubble as take control of their world. From what his subordinates told J'nee, those on the surface were using waves from the electromagnetic spectrum to seek out what lay beyond their sight, and that meant they had no chance of picking up even the barest whiff of hull plating on any of the ships in orbit. If the planet had not been found by the Troolians, the creatures on its surface would likely have been able to evolve past the need for such mundane detection methods, but now the galaxy would never know.

“Cre'l!” He bellowed. He did not have to bellow, but he preferred to at every opportunity. Not only did it keep his crew on their toes, but it gave him a sense of surety that all eyes were on him – that not one of the three orbs in a head were looking anywhere else. He liked it that way.

“Yes, Premitor!” Cre'l snapped to attention at the front of the bridge deck. He and his taller second in command had been together since the first cycle he commanded a ship, and J'nee was quite sure he couldn't run one as well without his friend. Cre'l had no need to know that, however.

“Get me the other two ships on the vid – now!” He made it sound as though Cre'l had failed to do so previously, and that he should have known better, should have had the captains of the other ships queued up and waiting. Cre'l couldn't, of course, but the very idea that J'nee demanded so much meant that none of his crew were bold enough to consider a mutiny. Being a Premitor did not come without risks.

Cre'l smashed an armored fist into his chest and then stalked to the vid operator's station. Throwing the younger crew member occupying the seat aside, his second began fiddling with dials and controls. Seniority counted for everything in the fleet, at least until you were dead. Then, your position was available to whoever had the strength to grab it and hold on.

J'nee fingered the small explosive charge at his belt. Should any of the crew ever get any fool notions about removing him from command, the ship they sought to take would be the price they paid. A flick of his wrist would take off the arming cap, and after that only a single button press was required to detonate. He'd had it custom made by one of the homeworld's best armsman, and keyed so that it would respond only to his own biological signature.

He realized his thoughts hadn't been interrupted by Cre'l telling him that the other ship-leaders were on the vid. What in Skorl was going on?

“Cre'l!” He barked. “Report!”

“They're ignoring my hails, Premitor.” Cre'l's voice was incredulous. No one, no ship, and no captain ignored a hail from one of the fleet.

“And you've -” J'nee began, but Cre'l cut him off.

“Sent the standard threats, yes. I told both of them we'd send them back to their ancestors and with such force that their fist generation would feel it, but no luck. No response from either one.”

J'nee moved toward the vid, his anger rising. If his fury at being snubbed could reach across space, it alone would have convinced both the Troolians and Biphasoids that it was in their best interests for continued survival to respond.

“Obviously,” he said aloud, “there is something of value on this planet, something that has attracted the insects and rodents of the galaxy. Now, the hunters have arrived, and the insects scuttle, the rodents take cover under rocks. What could be so important? What could matter so much?”

“I -” Cre'l spoke up from the vid station, but J'nee held up a hand. He wasn't looking for an answer.

It had to be a power source of some kind. The last three galactic conferences had all dealt with the issue of a growing power shortage, or so his sources reported. Hunters did not attend such foolish things.

Clearly, the fools circling the planet had found a source they wished to protect, and seemed to think that if they ignored him they could somehow spirit it away. Lesser species had become bold in recent cycles, and needed to be put in their places.

J'nee considered. He could destroy the planet outright, but that meant no power for anyone, including him, and very little honor for the fleet. He could destroy the other two ships, but even insects and rodents could be dangerous should they choose to work together. If his ship were damaged badly enough, and the others sent out distress calls – well, fleet command dealt harshly with those Premitors who let their ships be captured and their technology be stolen.

“C'rel,” he said, thin mouth widening in a smile, “send out a broad-band signal to the planet. Tell them we are here. Tell them we offer our protection against the coming attack.” He smiled even more broadly, and a nearby crewman took a quick step back. “Tell them we are here to help.”

- D