The Alexanderov Federation

#2 - Growing Pains

By Robert Huntingdon

Chapter Two - Tailspin

It was good to just be Admiral Goodman again. Military governorship of a protectorate was an interesting and important job, but he'd never aspired to be a politician. He was a soldier, and it was good to be just a soldier again. He smiled as he thought of the first time he'd met the new Governor. R'th'z'Tray'S had been a religious leader on the planet since the beginning of the Grendarl Wars, and somehow he'd known what was coming. He'd seen, even before things began to go against the Grendarl, even before the first War ground to a halt with both sides exhausted and seeking time to rebuild, before anybody could really have known, he knew the final outcome of the war. It was beyond Goodman's understanding how, but that didn't matter. He'd been imprisoned for his efforts, tortured, nearly killed even, but he never relented in preaching his message that the empire was doomed. And when Rrk'g'kreg III finally did surrender, he'd quickly proven to be a major assistance to Goodman as he sought to integrate the conquered race into the Federation. The Federation, after all, did not believe in slave labor, so he'd had to embark on a massive planetary re-education mission. The humans now had to embrace the Grendarl as allies, not just subjects, and the Grendarl had to want to cooperate, to see that it was better they work together than be enemies. And with R'th'z'Tray'S helping, it became so much easier.

Of course, R'th'z'Tray'S didn't have much time left now. The Grendarl only lived about 25 years on average, and R'th'z'Tray'S was 27. But he was also immensely popular with the new generation, those who saw him as a prophet instead of a naysayer, those who saw him as the savior of their race rather than dragging them down, and he'd ridden that wave of popularity into a sweeping victory in the first planetary elections ever. After entering office three months ago, he'd gotten off to a great start, and was continuing to ever improve both interspecies relations and the productivity of the Grendarl workers.

His viewscreen bleeped, dragging him back to the present with a start. He turned from the view and sat down at his desk. "Receive."

The viewscreen turned on, and Captain Rosetovsky of the Dragonfly appeared on screen. "Admiral, we have completed repairs to the Falcon, and have dispatched them on their way with the Emergency Engineering team. I would like to request permission to explore the remaining systems out here that are accessible to us. Now that we know what neighborhood we're in, I expect we'll find Alpha Centauri nearby and that could be a great system for us to colonize if it survived the last Antaran War."

"You will be almost totally without support. The only ships and support that will remain in system is what the Grendarl have rebuilt and some of the older, unrefittable survivors of the Battle of Rrk'g'kreg III four and a half years ago. Help will not be close at hand anymore," Goodman cautioned.

"I am aware of that. But this is what I signed up to do, Admiral. Explore new territory, with nothing but my crew and my wits to rely on. We have a good ship. We'll be OK."

"Then permission is granted. Good luck, and safe journeys. Goodman out."

Goodman turned to finishing off the last of pre-departure paperwork. With the new jump-engines the ships that would go with him had installed, they would make it all the way to Alpha Omicron in only six months. They would pick up some reinforcements along the way, but for the most part it would be up to him to pull off a victory with insufficient ships if war with the Raas came. The intelligence from their spy network inside the Raas empire suggested it would, and probably within eight months. Of course, the Federation technology continued to grow, while the Raas stagnated with mere fusion beams on most of their ships. But they would still be grossly outnumbered.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. Once en route he'd try to convince Mulkahey to press harder for a few more ships. War with the Raas was almost a foregone conclusion. War with Satrag might not yet be.

Captain Rosetovsky sat back in his command chair and looked out at the forward viewscreen. In a few more seconds they would hit the transfer point and enter the jump lane. He never missed a transition. It was still slightly dangerous, but mainly he just enjoyed the light show. He'd heard a wormhole was even more impressive, but he had never had the opportunity to make use of one before. Perhaps someday.

The jump was as impressive as always and he turned the bridge over to his XO. One month of boredom and then he'd get to find out if he'd guessed correctly as to their destination or not.

On Wasilkoff IV, the newly re-established colony was just beginning to repay the expense of setting it up. But on Wasilkoff II, which had been settled almost as soon as the Grendarl War was over, the science labs and factories were well established. Here a smattering of Psilon researchers who'd come over to assist the humans worked on a new breakthrough. One of the lab rats had come up with a brilliant idea the other day, and now Messon of Physics was putting the final touches on implementing it. He used the robotic arm controls to tweak one more item's position and then dropped the last piece into place. He took a deep breath, as the crew stood around to watch the results as he pressed the power button.

Nothing happened.

The crew heaved a great sigh of disappointment and began to break up, when the same lab rat spoke up. "Wait a second. You forgot a connection. You need to connect feldrstrug 57 to Circuit D."

Messon blinked, and looked back at the device. Sure enough, he had forgotten the connection. How could he ever have been so forgetful? Well, never mind for now. He hit the power button again to kill the power, made the connection quickly, and hit the power again. Immediately, the device began to hum as it built up its power reserves. The hum built to a rapid crescendo towards the upper end of the scale. But this time, before it could become painful to hear, signaling overload and an imminent feedback explosion, the current arced and a beam of pure gravitons leaped out the front of the device, shattering the target and damaging the backstop before Messon managed to turn it off.

"What is your name, ma'am," said Messon as he turned to the lab rat.

"Kristine Ivanova Bruhklev, sir."

"Well, Kristine, you have earned our undying gratitude." He turned to the crowd at large, and then shouted, "We've DONE IT!"

The resulting cheer almost raised the roof clear off, and caused several scientists from nearby labs to come running to see what all the fuss was about.

"We have confirmation, sir. We have developed a working prototype of a graviton beam, sir. We can swap out all current production so all new ships will carry these weapons, and we'll have modules ready for refit on our capital ships inside of three months."

"Excellent!" responded Admiral Mulkahey. "Send word to Ambassador Babcock immediately. We need to see if we can get the Solatrix Empire to trade with us for their new Robotic Mining Plant. With the new Automated Factories we've set up, we are need more resources to fuel our manufacturing plants. Perhaps now they will trade."

Six months later...

"I do apologize, Ambassador Rssazzz, but you just don't understand these New Orions as we do. They don't want us to grow and expand into the galaxy, they are allowing us to do that in the hope that we will kill each other off, because they fear us. And they have rejected every other senate membership proposal any race has made. We don't have the votes to overrule them. I'm truly sorry, but I have been instructed by my government to ask you to wait just a little longer," said Ambassador Babcock to her Raas counterpart.

"That's absurd! We've already waited four years! Five years we have been your allies. Five years! And that whole time you have given us nothing in return! May I remind you that your colony in Tamarian would have been toast without our aid? Not to mention your ability to defeat the Grendarl at Rrk'g'kreg, which would not have occurred either! You OWE us, ambassador, and I'm tired of waiting!"

"We have given you several technologies, Ambassador, and we have held up our end of the trade agreements. Your empire has profited from these as much or more so than ours has. There is another election scheduled for senate leader in two years. At that time, I plan on casting our vote for the New Orions. Perhaps then we can butter them up enough to get them to..."

"No! No more maybe soons! We've had enough! We withdraw from our treaty commitments!"

"You do not need to do that, Ambassador..."

"Yes! Yes we do! We will no longer support a race that pretends to be our friend while scheming to deny us our right to expand and build an empire worthy of our people! If you propose our membership at the next meeting, we may consider re-establishing trade at that time. But if not, you will pay for your sins!"

"It is regrettable that you choose this course, Ambassador. I do wish there was some other way. I will contact you again if there is any news." Ambassador Babcock said as she closed the channel. She sat back and stared at the ceiling for a minute, then turned to the other active viewscreen. "Well, I hope you're happy. My job is to keep the peace, not start wars. I could have brought them around eventually."

"No, you couldn't, Sharon, and you know it. Lie to yourself if it makes you feel better, blame me, blame Alexanderov, blame the New Orions if you want, but you know as well as I what our spies have been telling us. We've foiled at least 10 of their attempts to sabotage us in the past year alone. They are trying to use us and our people are tired of it. We've already begun the release of the evidence of their deeds, within another month or two it will be too late, the people will be demanding war as eagerly as a first year cadet desires to see some action."

"Are you sure your military outlook isn't coloring your viewpoint, Mulkahey?"

"Yes, I am. Our people are not, by and large, eager for war, but they hate being used. I personally don't want a war, but better one now with the Raas now than 20 years from now when they'll have had more time to grow their industrial base."

"And what about us? What of our industrial base? Is it ready to fight a three front war?"

"No," conceded Mulkahey. "That's why it's your job to keep the other two fronts from boiling up into a serious problem. You're good at your job. You can do what must be done. You already have done much, getting those Robotic Miners for us from Solatrix. That was an excellent bit of negotiation on your part."

"Don't change the subject. I feel like I'm being used, Admiral. That I'm just lying to people, promising peace while you prepare for war."

"That is, unfortunately, sometimes what happens. But that's not what I want to happen. Your job is to create the peace. It's my job to be ready to defend our people and defeat those who wish us ill if you are not able to do your job."

"Surprising that you should say that right after telling me to stop doing my job with the Raas."

"That's not the same thing and you know it, Ambassador," chided Mulkahey.

"I don't agree," came the unsurprising rejoinder from Babcock.

"Fine, don't agree then. You had your orders, and you know they came straight from the President. You obeyed, and I have heard your objections and they will be passed on. But your orders remain the same. Keep the other two fronts calm until we finish with the Raas. Maybe with luck you can prevent a war. I don't expect it, but I will be the first in line to congratulate you if you succeed. Mulkahey out."

Goodman paced his office on Starbase 57 restlessly. Four months he'd been stuck here in orbit of Tamarian II while the workers endlessly replaced weapons on his ships with new Graviton Beams, and he'd be here another week yet. Yes, the new weapons were impressive, but he wouldn't get to the front for another four months now and he did not want to be too late to do any good. His seventh fleet was the main striking arm of the Federation, and if he wasn't in position before things heated up they wouldn't be able to respond to the enemy incursion. And now with the new weapons, he might well have enough ships on his own.

If only he could get out of dry-dock and back into space where he belonged. The door chimed for his attention, and he quickly forced his expression to neutral and bottled his emotions up. "Enter!" he commanded.

Lieutenant Commander Stephanie Lewis walked in. "Sir, there is a communiqué for you that just came in by message drone. It's encrypted eyes only, sir."

An encrypted communiqué by message drone could only mean one thing. New orders, orders so secret only the people issuing them and the person receiving them was allowed to know of them. There could be many reasons, but usually it was to prevent spies from telling the enemy your plans before you executed them. He accepted the wafer from Lewis and sat back down at his desk to view the orders. The computer chewed on the decryption for a full five minutes before finally displaying the unencrypted message. Omega level encryption to boot. Somebody did not want these orders getting out.

"Admiral. By now you should be almost ready to depart. When you do, I want your fleet to launch as planned, but to head for Wasilkoff instead of M'gewen. We expect the Raas will attack Alpha Omicron in another month or two and we want you in position to launch a counter-attack. Since you can't get to Alpha Omicron fast enough, this is the next best option. We've also boosted defense production in Wasilkoff, just in case, but our spies report that their fleet left Delta Omicron for Mahktoz two months ago, which means they are heading to Alpha Omicron, as we expected. We've assembled quite a roadblock in their way, and after we puncture their tires it will be your job to swoop in for the kill. Good luck Admiral. Alexanderov out."

In the basement of the foreign intelligence service on Kitjef II, Gregoriy Vilson finished printing up the latest 'dispatch' from the 'informant' on the Raas Homeworld of Rotan Prime. Working for the Raas was kind of fun, and it paid pretty well, and best of all maybe nobody would get hurt this way. If he could do a good enough job convincing his superiors the Raas were serious, maybe they'd decide to start treating them fairly and there would be no need for a war after all. Sometimes he was ashamed to be a human, when his leaders were so dense and all the peace-loving Raas wanted was a fair shake. If only he could do a good enough job on these fake dispatches.

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