Between the Devil and the Deep Black Space
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Between the Devil and the Deep Black Space is a collection of short stories by Paolo Mariani set in the Frontier Universe
Stories
The whole collection is available here (PDF).
Dissident I am Rear Admiral Esereth, formerly of the Federal Military, now INRA Sector Fleet Commander. I have two hundred thousand officers under my command. There are no privates or sergeants; INRA counts only officers among its ranks. INRA has only a single purpose: to protect mankind from the Thargoids. The aggressive alien invaders seek to take over all of human-inhabited space, and we cannot allow them to do so. That would mean the end of our species. The Thargoids want us dead, they want revenge. We were able to defeat them in the last war, but that was a temporary victory, as we have known all along. They are on the move. They are coming for us again. Their ultimate goal is to eradicate the human species and colonize our planets. We cannot afford to give in to our weaknesses. Major Cam Ranie of INRA was following his superior, Earl Dnumgis, down to the hangar area of the enormous Imperial Explorer which was the flagship of Rear Admiral Esereth. The enormous warship had long since been upgraded to INRA standards. A relative newcomer to the INRA organization, Ranie had been recruited by Esereth herself because of his superior fighting skills and impressive attitude in the face of overwhelming opposition. He had only been on one mission on his own, which had turned out partly a failure. Consequently, he was rather concerned that his next mission be a success. Dnumgis opened a door through which Ranie had never before passed. A sign on the door said 'Research Area'. "You've never been in here before, have you?" Dnumgis asked. "No, sir, never. This is where the scientists work, isn't it?" "Yes. There's something here I would like to show you." They walked along a brightly lit corridor until Dnumgis stopped by another door. The apparatus on the wall beside it performed a scan of Dnumgis' DNA before the door was unlocked. It opened, and Dnumgis motioned to Ranie to enter. He found himself in a hangar, much smaller than the main hangar which took up a large portion of the ship's interior. It was also much darker in there than elsewhere on the ship, and all Ranie could tell for sure was that there was a big, compact shape in the middle of the hall. A ship of some sort. He apprehensively stepped closer, trying to make out the type of ship as his eyes got used to the darkness. There was something familiar about the outline... It suddenly occurred to Ranie what he was looking at. He drew his breath in a sharp hiss and involuntarily took two stumbling steps backwards. Many years ago, we were able to secure a Thargoid ship intact. Some traitor, while in Federal service, had carried out a mission for the Thargoids, providing them with an antidote to a biochemical substance developed by INRA. It was the mycoid poison that had proven to be the only effective weapon we had against the aliens, and was the only reason that they finally left our part of the galaxy. Allowing the antidote to pass into Thargoid possession was the ultimate treachery; possibly the pivotal act that rendered mankind effectively defenceless. We have since, although our research is massively funded, not been able to develop any new weapon that is even remotely as effective. The Thargoids rewarded the traitor by giving him one of their own warships. Instead of turning such a priceless artefact over to INRA, the traitor used it for his own amusement and profit for years before he died of natural causes. Needless to say, we captured it immediately. We have the ship, we can fly it, and we have learned a lot from it. The technology contained within it is peerless in all of human knowledge and experience, and largely unusable to us. Most of it is incomprehensible, based upon physical and biological principles we have yet to discover, much less understand. And that was an old ship; who knows what they have come up with in the interim hundred years. The ship does, however, occasionally have its uses. Ranie stared at the Thargoid warship, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging slightly open. On his last mission, he had seen large alien vessels pass silently through empty space, but standing right next to this otherworldly design here, inside an ordinary hangar, was somehow an even more eerie and unreal experience. The ship was octagonal, of course, but small and smooth and uniform. Its charcoal hull seemed to absorb most of the light that fell on it, contributing further to the forbidding and surrealistic atmosphere that surrounded it. "What do you think?" Dnumgis asked at last. "Well, sir, I... I had heard that INRA had one of those, but I didn't know it was here. Or even that it was intact. I would have thought you would have taken it apart." The senior officer stood beside him, hands clasped on his back. "We opted not to. It turned out we could learn more about it when it's in working order." "Does it fly?" "It does indeed." Dnumgis turned his head to look at Ranie, an indecipherable smile on his lips. "Want to try?" INRA consists only of the most intelligent, gifted and conscienscious officers mankind have to offer. There are two million of us. That is a seemingly miniscule number, because the volume of space we are to protect is, after all, so big as to be unimaginable. But we value quality over quantity, and we always have. It is believed that having intelligent, adept officers in a very flat hierarchy makes for an effective, flexible and adaptive organization, and thus a greater force of war. It is believed that we can only win by pooling our collective intelligence and resources. That may be so. Lately, I have come to question this arrangement. It has begun to seem ridiculous to me that INRA, the ultimate fighting force, is not run by traditional military principles. The virtual lack of a hierarchy is unprecedented; never before in human history has a war been won by an army thus organized. A fighting force must have one leader, one chain of command. It can't possibly be more efficient to arrange it any other way; thousands of years of experience show it. The way in which INRA is organized makes for a number of particular problems. Intelligent people are by definition much harder to command than stupid people. They tend to question orders and start discussions at the slightest provocation. How can you fight a war when the soldiers would rather discuss matters of principle than exchange fire with the enemy? How can you fight a war when a common Colonel, even, can question your strategies? This absurd state of affairs is illustrated by the council-principle INRA employs. It states that any INRA officer may raise questions about the strategies, tactics and dispositions that are being planned. A council of senior officers will then review the matter. The thought is that any weaknesses in the plans can thus be exposed, leaving possibilities for improvement. I used to embrace this principle. I don't any more. I don't like having my orders discussed, and I don't like to be second-guessed. Quite frankly, I don't like dissent. "Major Ranie, we need you to carry out another mission. Two pirate ships are going to be in the Tiandor system two days from now. One is an Imperial Trader, the other is an Eagle Mk III. You will use the Thargoid ship you have now familiarized yourself with, hyperjump in and destroy the Trader. You will then hyperjump out again." "And the Eagle?" "You are not to attack the Eagle. We want them to survive, and then spread the rumour about a Thargoid sighting. It's part of our effort to prepare everyone for the impending war. The mission details are in this holocube.The ship is ready. Take off as soon as you can. Good luck!" There are some, even within INRA itself, who say that the first war was the result of a misunderstanding, that miscommunication took place, that the Thargoids are basically friendly and desire only peaceful coexistence. They say that there is evidence to the effect that the first INRA patrol to encounter the Thargoids was too quick to open fire, that they panicked, that the Thargoids tried desperately to establish communication. That may well be the case. It doesn't matter now. We beat them back in the ensuing war, and now they are approaching again with a massive fleet. They want revenge. We must not hesitate. They are the enemy. An officer under my command, Count Lihngarte, is host to such qualms. He feels that in the present situation, with an enormous Thargoid fleet drawing ever closer, we should try to establish contact with the aliens. He points out that we do have the equipment to translate our respective languages and thus communicate between species. He says that if the Thargoids in fact have friendly intentions, we must not leave any effort untested to have a peaceful solution to our conflict. While sympathetic on the surface, this is an immensely dangerous thought. I have explained that to him several times. The Thargoids are superior to us in every way that matters. If we let them seep through our space with seemingly friendly intent, once they are settled in every corner of our galaxy it would require hardly any effort at all on their part to conquer us and remove our species from existence. It's a chance we cannot afford to take. The alien ship was a dream to fly, Ranie had to admit to himself. It accelerated and decelerated with unbelievable speed and urgency, changing direction seemingly at the mere thought of it. And its hyperspace capabilities were dreamlike; it traversed hundreds of light-years in a single jump. The weapons were also of the most magnificant calibre, firing asteroid-shattering beams of ice-blue light at the slightest touch of the trigger. Oh yes; blasting some pirate scum to pieces with this equipment would be a right pleasure, although not much of a challenge. That was okay; he needed to prove himself now. He started hyperjumping towards Tiandor. Lihngarte doesn't understand this. He went to the Council with it, to obtain a decision. The Council consists of fifteen of the most senior officers, and I myself have a place there. Lihngarte presented his case very well, I must admit. The Council accepted his suggestion; that he go to a system with Thargoid presence and try to establish communication. It was a unanimous decision; when I saw that everyone else were falling for his arguments, the damn fools, I feigned agreement and voted as the others. It didn't matter. I knew that I could not allow him to proceed with his endeavour. The Imperial Trader and the Eagle were indeed in Tiandor, as Dnumgis had said. Then again, Ranie hadn't expected anything else; INRA intelligence was always accurate. Strangely, the two ships were just hanging in space, motionless, as if waiting for something. Or someone. Well, that was none of Ranie's concern. He had a job to do. I have a new recruit, a young Major. His combat skills are unsurpassed. He has the unbending loyalty of the young and an eagerness to please, not least because he thinks that his first mission was a failure. It wasn't; everything turned out just as I had wanted it to. But he doesn't know that, and he never will. I have uses for him. Ranie would have expected that when he, in this obviously Thargoid vessel, started moving towards the pirates, they would scramble to escape the unknown threat. Instead, the Trader and the Eagle began moving calmly towards him, as if he were a friend. Weird behaviour indeed. It didn't matter, of course. They would soon be in range of his cannon. It never feels good to have one of your subordinates executed, no matter how deserved or necessary. I will make sure that Major Ranie doesn't find out what actually happened and who he actually killed. He has no need to know. At least not now. Fortunately, Earl Dnumgis is loyal to me and has told Ranie a very convincing story. Ranie fired the main beam cannon, and it only took a half-second burst of pure, blue energy to blow the Imperial Trader to little pieces of debris. It was almost suspiciously easy. He turned on the Eagle, which was only now trying to get away by accelerating as hard as it could. He had to smile, however thinly, at the futility of such a venture. He let his much faster ship casually and slowly pass along the Eagle, to let its crew have a good, long look at the decidedly alien warship. He then banked away, and, not quite able to resist the temptation to show the pirates what this craft was *really* good for, accelerated at full power away from them. When they were 10 kilometres away he engaged the hyperdrive. Time to go home. Having Ranie use the Thargoid warship and leaving surviving witnesses at the scene will leave the Council with only one logical conclusion: that the Thargoids are inherently hostile and will attack without provocation. We have no choice but to wage a new war. But then again, despite what Lihngarte thought, we never really had. I have let it be known to the officers under my command that the chances of mankind surviving its encounter with the aliens are sixteen percent. This is false. The true number is as close to zero as makes no difference. It is my responsibility to keep morale as high as possible, and it would not promote morale if I were to let my soldiers know that we don't have any real fighting chance against the Thargoids. Better to let them think that there is at least a theoretical possibility that we'll win. It's pure psychology. I have to admit that this whole situation worries me a lot now. It seems that I am the only one to take my responsibility seriously, and I must say that the knowledge of that weighs very heavily on me. I feel so very alone. And so very, very tired. Can you blame me for making certain that we do the right thing? As I said, I don't like dissent. I won't tolerate it. Not here. Not now. Not ever. You understand, don't you? Don't you? © Copyright 2002 Paolo Mariani
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