Published: 19 Dec 2016

Part IX

THREE WORLDS
Formerly Published as “0300 Books I, II, and III”

Chapter 23: Orders to the Hope

The trill of the communicator woke Paul. He fumbled, and heard the gadget strike the floor. “Nova sol!” Now he was wide-awake. He kicked off the covers and sat up. He found the instrument by the light of its LED.

“Stewart here.”

“Captain Stewart, this is Ensign Kling at Fleet Headquarters. Admiral Davis’ compliments and would you report to the USF Hope at your earliest convenience. A shuttlecraft will pick you up in 26 minutes.”

“‘Earliest convenience’ means 26 minutes plus flight time, Mr. Kling?” Paul said.

“Yes sir, that’s what it sounds like.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kling. I’ll be waiting. Stewart out.”

Paul glanced at the text of the orders that appeared on the communicator’s screen, frowned, and then flipped the device closed.

Glad that he had showered before going to bed, Paul pulled on his uniform. The Hope is a hospital ship, he thought. My last command was a cruiser. I hope they don’t want me to nursemaid a bunch of doctors. The orders were just to ‘report.’ I guess I’ll learn what I’m supposed to do when I get there. What about the CERN-Higgs assignment? I was supposed to take over that program next week. Not sure I’ll miss that. The only thing worse than trying to command a bunch of doctors would be trying to command a bunch of theoretical physicists—or, maybe, herding cats. These thoughts ran through his mind while he tucked an extra uniform, his iPad and charger, sidearm, toiletries, and a few other essentials into a duffle bag.

The communicator buzzed. “Stewart.”

“Security detail, sir” the tenor voice said. “Fleet said you were exiting your quarters. We’re in position.”

“Is that you, Danny?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy replied. “George is with me. Will you need an escort?”

Does he sound wistful? Paul wondered. My orders don’t include him or George. “Not yet, Danny,” he said. “My orders don’t include the team. I’ll work on it as soon as I find out what’s going on; you can be sure of that.”

The exterior lights were already on, triggered by Danny and George who were standing at the foot of the steps. Their MK-7 rifles were at port arms. They did not salute. “No escort?” Danny asked, again. “Really?”

“Hi, Danny,” Paul said. “Hi, George. At ease. No, no escort. I hope that means this will be a short trip. A shuttlecraft should be here in a few minutes. I’m headed for the Hope. Um, would you double-check that I left everything in okay condition inside? I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but there’s a huge container of sandwiches in the fridge, as well as chips and dip, lemonade, and a lot of ice cream for the New Year’s Eve party tomorrow… that is, later today. If I don’t get back in time, would you make sure the team gets them? They were mostly for y’all, anyway.” Paul dropped his duffle and stretched out his arms.

“Paul, you gonna be okay?” Danny slung his MK-7 over his shoulder and stepped into Paul’s arms.

“Gonna be fine, Danny,” Paul said. He hugged the boy. “Gonna miss you and the gang, though. Y’all have a great time at the party.” He bent his head down and kissed the boy lightly on his forehead. Danny turned up his head and kissed Paul firmly on the lips.

Danny stepped back and took his rifle in his hands. George slung his rifle, and got a kiss, too. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

“None of that, now,” Paul said. An electric tingle announced the arrival of the shuttle. The hiss of the opening door was loud in the stillness of the night.

Paul kissed George again, and got a weak smile from the boy. Paul walked to the edge of the landing pad, and then stepped to the door of the shuttle.

“Shuttlecraft Carl Sagan,” he said, reading the name on the side of the door. “Permission to come aboard, sir?” Paul saluted the image of the Fleet ensign on the aft side of the shuttle, and then the cadet who stood in the shuttle’s open doorway. The cadet was staring at the two, armed boys behind Paul.

“Uh, permission granted, sir,” the cadet replied, returning the salute. “This way, please.” He gestured toward the bow of the boxy craft.

A few steps took Paul to the bridge: a vainglorious name for the cockpit of the shuttle. An ensign occupied the left seat; the right seat was empty, but certainly belonged to the cadet. Paul pulled down the jump seat behind the pilot and extended the safety harness.

“Uh, don’t you want the right seat, Captain?” It was the cadet’s voice.

“Actually, no,” Paul said. “That’s your seat, isn’t it? And no ship may have more than one captain. It’s an old tradition, not often honored. The captain of the Carl Sagan is the ensign in the pilot’s seat. My name is Paul.”

“Uh—” both boys were unsure of themselves to the point of paralysis.

“That was an invitation to dispense with formality,” Paul said. “I am a passenger, and this is your ship.” He looked closely at the cadet, and then at the ensign, who had turned his head to look at Paul.

The ensign nodded. “I’m Kevin; my copilot is Casey. Welcome aboard, Paul.

“Casey, strap in,” he continued. “We’re cleared for straight up and hot.”

Paul watched over Kevin’s shoulder, paying particular attention to the Mach meter. Straight up actually meant a southeastward arc that would add Earth’s rotational speed to the shuttle, and point it toward the Hope’s orbit. The boy-pilot kept the shuttle just under the speed of sound until reaching 10,000 feet. Then, the shuttle lurched forward, pressing them all into their seats.

“That was pretty abrupt,” Paul said.

“Yes,” Kevin answered. “But I watched you strap in, and I saw your eyes in the mirror. You were watching the instruments. You’d have known, and been ready for it.”

Paul nodded, and then winked as he caught the boy’s eyes in the mirror. Kevin grinned.

Paul punched buttons on the repeater console by the jump seat, and sent a message to Fleet Command for Admiral Davis. En route USF Hope. Instructions? There was no reply. Guess I’m on my own, he thought.

“Carl Sagan is attached to USF Isaac Newton,” Paul said.

“We were in low orbit and closing on Africa, at least an hour closer to your position Earthside,” Casey said. “The Hope is at L5, a long way away. And they said this was important.”

Paul nodded. These boys didn’t know any more than he did; but he would find out soon enough. At least, he hoped so.

The Hope filled the viewscreen. A globe nearly half a mile in diameter, the hospital ship was attended by a swarm of shuttlecraft and replenishment tenders. The Carl Sagan appeared to be lost in the melee.

“Hope, this is Shuttlecraft Carl Sagan requesting approach and docking.”

There was a long pause while the controller’s voice dealt with several other ships. Then, “Carl Sagan, you are Number 15 in the landing queue; standby.”

Kevin looked at Paul and raised his eyebrow.

“Someone may have dropped the ball,” Paul said. “Perhaps your mission to retrieve me wasn’t as important as you and I were led to believe, or someone didn’t tell Hope how important it was. What precedence were you given?”

“Red One,” Kevin replied.

“Perhaps you should tell them that,” Paul said. “If that’s not sufficient, we’ll wait.”

“But, you’re a Fleet Captain,” Casey said.

“And sometimes, a Fleet Captain can throw his rank around. Sometimes, he shouldn’t. Until we know better, this is a shouldn’t time. Why?” Paul addressed the cadet.

“Because higher precedence ships carry medical emergencies.”

“That’s certainly correct,” Paul said. “Quick thinking.” He smiled. Casey beamed at the praise.

Red One was sufficient to move the Carl Sagan up to number eight—behind other shuttles, but ahead of tenders. Under Kevin’s eyes—and Paul’s—Casey brought the shuttle into a landing bay. Casey didn’t see, but Paul saw Kevin’s pride in his cadet’s performance.

Before he left the shuttle, Paul handed Kevin a card. The boy’s eyebrows rose in question.

“That’s my communicator code and my email address,” Paul said. “It’s less efficient than an electronic synch. But, it’s a little less impersonal, too. Both of you, please keep in touch.” Casey, saw me kissing George. It surprised him; it shouldn’t have. And, he’s smart. Kevin’s smart, too. Got to keep an eye on them.

Kevin nodded, and then turned to his controls. The Hope‘s flight deck controller was rather in a hurry to get rid of them.

Paul followed green indicator lights to a door. He stepped into an anteroom where the chaos was only slightly less than on the flight deck. People in medical whites moved from stretcher to stretcher, examining patients. Those who seemed to be in charge directed teams of litter bearers to move the stretchers through one of several doors. Triage, Paul thought. He looked around, trying to decide where he should go, trying to understand why he had been brought here.

In moments, he discerned the pattern. That door, he thought. They are the least injured. There will be less chaos and urgency, there. I would be less in the way, too. Perhaps I will find out why I am here.

Kids filled the space on the other side of the door. They ranged in age from maybe six to perhaps eighteen. Most were sitting on the floor. Some appeared not injured at all. Paul saw that there were two groups: one in what looked like play clothes—shorts and T-shirts, sandals or trainers. The others were in uniformly black and gray clothes with long pants and long sleeves. All the injuries seemed to be in the second group. Both groups were talking quietly among themselves, occasionally looking curiously at the other group. Paul looked around. That one, he thought, and walked toward a boy in dark clothes.

“Please tell me,” Paul said to the boy, “what has happened? Why are so many young people injured? And, what can I do to help you?”

The boy sitting on the edge of the stretcher looked coldly at Paul. “Who the…” The boy’s voice trailed off when he realized Paul was in uniform. Still, he seemed too upset to apologize.

Paul understood. Well, not entirely, but he understood that something was badly wrong.

“Cadet, my name is Paul. I was just brought here, with no knowledge of what’s going on. If I am to help, I must know. Please help me understand?”

The boy blushed. “Sorry,” he said. “I forget that there’s folks here from everywhere, and not everybody knows what all I’ve seen.

“They attacked us,” the boy said. “They had the Army on their side.” The boy hiccoughed. “All we had were kids…” He dropped his head into his hands, and sobbed.

“Who attacked, Cadet? What army? Who was attacked?” Paul asked.

“Why do you call me cadet?” the boy countered.

“You appear to be of that age,” Paul said. “All the boys I know who are your age are cadets. My boyfriends are cadets. I assumed you were—”

“Boyfriend? You can say you have a boyfriend?”

“Uh, yes,” Paul replied. Why would I say that to him? And where is he from that…? “Yes, I can. Please, start at the beginning. It may be hard; but no matter how hard, you must believe I am here to help you.”

“Must?” the boy said. His lip curled in a sneer. Doubt dripped from his voice and painted his face.

“Must,” Paul affirmed. “Must. On my life.” He pushed, and thought, something’s really wrong… perhaps he doesn’t trust adults; perhaps it’s the uniform. “The beginning, please.”

The boy’s eyes widened when Paul said, on my life. The boy took a deep breath. His body shuddered as he did so. “The beginning? That would be more than a hundred years ago when we celebrated the 150^th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. The people who led the celebration were the UFC, the Universal Fundamental Church, and President Scudder. They claimed that the United States was a religious nation, and that religious law was ordained by God. Of course, what was religious law and what wasn’t was up to them. Pretty much, anything they didn’t agree with was against the law.”

He’s either an exceptional storyteller, or psychotic, Paul thought. Or both, or neither. He seems sincere.

“Homosexuality was one of the things they didn’t like. That’s why I asked about your, uh… boyfriend. Every week a couple of fags—the spawn of Satan—were caught, and were executed, beheaded, on the televisor. The televisor didn’t always show one part, but everybody knew it happened—first, they burned off their, um… sexual organs. Then they branded the number of the beast on their foreheads. Then, they killed them.

“When we celebrated the 200^th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, the Reverends controlled almost all of the United States—one nation under their god—but not everybody.

“Some kids managed to escape to California. I was one. I’d been born in Las Vegas. The Reverends called it a city of sin, but that didn’t stop them from coming there. I saw what the Reverends did… fucking girls and boys—always the young ones—gambling, eating and drinking, everything they preached against.

“My Reverend said that they did it so that they could know the sins of the flesh, and could preach against them. But the ones that fucked me seemed to like it, a lot. A couple of them came back, over and over again, ever since I was ten. I guess they needed refresher training or something.”

This is not right, Paul thought. Yet, he believes what he’s saying. What is going on? He almost missed the boy’s next words.

“California was the only state they hadn’t taken over. The only reason California is independent is it controls the Pacific ports—San Diego, Long Beach, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, Vancouver—and the Reverends need trade. They send food, iron ore, coal, other stuff to the Hegemony of Asia. In return, they get weapons, tanks, and aeroplanes.

“Some of us kids got together, and decided we were going to take back our country. An army of kids. Full of dreams, piss, and vinegar.” The boy giggled. Then, his face turned to stone.

“We were going to Las Vegas and infiltrate the Christmas Retreat. I’d been there for four years before I escaped. I knew that New Years Eve would be the best time. The top Reverends would be there. We had explosives. What explosives we could get, some of the youngest kids strapped to themselves. They were going to get into the retreat and blow up themselves and the Reverends—”

The boy choked as he gasped out those words. He took a deep breath, and then continued. “We got nearly all the way to Las Vegas. I led a battalion. Our job was to get the kids with explosives into the arena where the Reverends were going to be for New Year. Then, things went downhill.

“The Reverends called in the Army.

“They hurt us, bad. They had automatic rifles, flame-throwers, gas, and tasers. They rolled their tanks over us… crushing flesh and bone into the desert. The little kids with explosives… they ran to the tanks and blew themselves up. It didn’t do anything. Then these boxy aeroplanes appeared. They didn’t have wings!

“The aeroplanes shot lightning at the tanks and the troops, and then landed to pick up our wounded… and our dead.

“They brought me here. I’m not hurt too bad. Just a bullet in my leg.” He pointed to the bandage wrapped around his shin.

“I know we’re not on my world any more. And those kids?” He gestured to the group in play clothes. “They aren’t from my world, either.”

The boy had finished his story. A corpsman came to check his bandage, and give him a shot for pain. In seconds, the boy fell asleep. I brushed his bangs from his eyes and stared at him. He was so sure that what he said was real. How? Where? Children! I wiped a few tears from my own eyes, and then tucked one of my cards into his hand. I hoped he would understand.

I stepped across the invisible line that separated the kids in gray and black—from one world, the boy had said—from the kids in play clothes from another world. A boy, who might have been fourteen and who carried a child of perhaps six on his hip came to meet me. “Sir, I am Ensign Alex Long,” he said. “How can I help you, Captain?”

“Please tell me where you are from and how you got here,” I said.

“It’s about time somebody asked,” he said. “Sorry, sir, it’s just that—”

“Don’t apologize, Mr. Long. But please be brief.”

The boy nodded. “We were on the way to Orlando. A flight of thirty shuttlecraft. It was to be a celebration. We had picked up our brothers from all over… Australia, Hawaii, California, Oregon, Utah, Iowa, England, Wales, Russia, all over. We rendezvoused over Charleston. We circled the cemetery and were about to head to Orlando where our parents were waiting for us.

“Then, things went to hell.

“Sorry sir. What happened was that a crack opened in the sky and we were pulled through.

“We were in a dark and ugly place. The telepaths started crying. They felt pain, hurt, and anger. But they led us to where we were needed.”

Telepaths? I thought. He says it without fear, as if it were not unusual.

The boy continued, “Not all of us were armed, but the ones who were, they were formidable.

“But there were so many wounded. We didn’t know where to take them. Cory said that the hole over Charleston had closed, but there was another hole in the sky. Our nav computers identified a hospital ship on the other side of that hole. We thought at first it was ours; then, we found out it wasn’t. Still, Cory told us to go there.

“There was nowhere else to go.

“When we got here, we took everyone off the shuttles, all but a pilot and those with medical training. The shuttles went back for more wounded.”

“Who is in command of your shuttles?” I asked.

“My brother, Captain Cory Long.”

I gave the boy a card. “Please ask him most urgently to get in touch with me as soon as the situation has stabilized. He can show this card to any crewman on this ship.

“Are you getting food and water?” I added.

“Yes sir. They took us a bunch at a time to a cafeteria. Uh, I think he wants to talk to you.” The boy looked over my shoulder.

I turned to find a Fleet ensign standing behind me. He opened his mouth to speak. I got there first. “Take me to the Hope‘s Captain, immediately, please.”

The boy stammered for a second, before asking me to follow him.

We entered not the bridge but the captain’s ready room. A man with a captain’s triple-diamonds sat at the table.

“Captain? What’s going on?” I asked. At first, the man did not reply. He stared into space and wrung his hands. Literally. He twisted his right hand inside his left, and then reverse the motion.

“There are so many of them… some of them said they were from Rigel… a planet named Rigel. Not the star, a planet. But not a planet around the star. And from Endor. There was a witch of Endor, you know? She’s a myth, of course. They brought wounded and dead… children… horrible burns, little bodies crushed, it’s awful.”

His voice rose and fell, almost as if he were singing the words. The man was nearly catatonic.

“Who is in command?” I asked the ensign. The boy pointed to a door. “Lt. Evans, sir.”

I walked through the door and into chaos that resembled the bridge of a ship.

A Lieutenant, j.g. wearing a caduceus sat in the command chair. Medical corps. Not a line officer; he’s a medic and a staff officer. At least he had the guts to take charge, I thought.

He was clearly overwhelmed. “What shuttle does he claim to pilot?” he said into his microphone. “Does he have wounded? Then let him in. And find out what is an Endoran, are any of them wounded? Are they human—do they have special medical requirements—do they have special environmental requirements?”

“Nova sol! Who are you?” This was addressed to me.

“Fleet Captain Stewart. I am assuming command of the Hope. Take the Number Two seat.”

The lieutenant jumped from the command chair into the next seat. I took the command chair and triggered the PA system. “Attention on the bridge!”

I had to say it again. “Attention on the bridge. Quiet, please, everyone.”

I looked around; after the chaos, the silence was overwhelming.

“I am Fleet Captain Stewart. I have assumed command of the Hope. Medical personnel not in essential bridge positions report to the primary flight deck for triage or assignment. Comm Officer: notify Fleet of the change of command as of 0558 Zulu.” It has been less than three hours since after Admiral Davis’s call that woke me up.

“Then contact USF Sir Isaac Newton. My compliments to the captain, and will he assign us the crew of the shuttle that brought me here as well as one shift of bridge crew and any medical staff he can spare.”

I thought about Danny and George, and grinned. “Comm-O, next, contact Geneva Main and ask that Cadets Stewart and Stewart-Rogers from my security detail be sent here, Code Red Two.” This is a time for a Fleet Captain to throw his weight around. I’ll bring the others after I find out what’s really going on.

“Lt. Evans,” I addressed the lieutenant who had stood from the Number Two seat. “Stay here. You are now XO and essential bridge personnel.”

The boy plopped back into his seat.

“Quartermaster?” I looked around. A kid turned in his seat and raised his hand.

“Cadet Hamlin, sir.”

“Mr. Hamlin, keep a running inventory of medical supplies. Send an updated requisition immediately and then every two hours. Send the requisitions directly to fleet supply. Let me know if you run into any problems or shortages; otherwise, deal with it, yourself. Forcefully. Use Code Red One, but only when necessary. Understood?”

The kid paled, visibly, but then sucked in his gut and nodded. “Sir, yes sir!”

Good, I thought. That one’s got some courage.

“Lt. Evans? What’s the patient population: how many empty beds do we have, what does the intake look like from the hanger deck?” The boy turned to his console.

“Yes, Comm-O. What’s your name? What do you have?”

“Cadet Hanson, sir. Shuttle Carl Sagan will reach the Newton in 90 minutes. They will send a bridge crew and some medics. ETA the Hope, two hours 48 minutes. A shuttle will launch from Geneva in five minutes with your key security detail; ETA, one hour, 15 minutes.”

“Good. Thank you,” I said. “Now—you’ve been monitoring fleet comm?”

The boy nodded.

“What is going on? A summary, please.”

The boy took a deep breath. There was dead silence on the bridge. Everyone turned to look.

“Sir, about five hours ago, shuttlecraft started popping out of empty space about 10 degrees ahead of L5.”

The Hope’s sitting at L5; the shuttles were popping out about 42,000 miles ‘in front’ of us, relative to the moon’s orbit, I thought. The boy kept talking.

“Their IFF signals were odd, but the computers accepted them. They were loaded—sometimes overloaded—with injured. Mostly cadets. Wounds were from projectile weapons and burns from some sort of energy weapons, crushed limbs—”

“Hold that thought, please, Mr. Hanson,” I interrupted. “XO, give me a display of all fleet assets in lunar and cislunar orbits.” He looked startled. I bit my lip a couple of times rather than help or correct him, but he finally got the display on the big board.

“Display Fleet and individual Defense Condition status,” I ordered. The kid punched a couple of buttons. The fleet—they’re all at Defense Condition Zero! They have done nothing to respond to this. After four hours!

“Comm—Mr. Hanson—open a channel to Fleet Command and patch it to my console. Code Red 5.” I imagined I saw steam come from the ears of the kid on the comm station. Red 5 was as high as it got. It meant alien invasion, or worse. Actually, that might have been on the mark. I was pleased to see that this didn’t slow the kid down. He signaled me when the connection was established.

Chapter 24: Las Vegas and Santa Ana

Men in green robes moved through the arena as silently and carefully as possible. This was the most dangerous time of the year, when hung-over Reverends woke in their own vomit and filth after the night’s debauchery. Where they could, the men in green picked up the children who lay among the Reverends. So far, only two of the children had been dead. Dozens of others lay entwined with the sleeping men.

“What the hell?” one of the recumbent figures muttered.

“Your pardon, please, Reverend,” the man in a green robe whispered as he knelt and bowed his head.

“Coffee, goddamn it! Bring me coffee!” The naked man slumped to the floor; his eyes slowly closed.

“Yes, Reverend.” The man stood and hurried away. Perhaps he will not remember my face.

The answer was unnecessary; the Reverend had passed out before the man in green had spoken his second word.

In a room apart, the Senior Reverend of Las Vegas and his privy staff glanced briefly at a televisor that showed the scene in the arena, and then took their places at a large table.

“They are fools,” said the Senior. “Most of them have no idea we were attacked and that if the attack had been successful they would have died.”

“How else can we keep someone in Lodge Pole, Kansas or Bumfuck, Georgia?” one of the Reverends asked. It was a rhetorical question; still, someone answered it.

“They all have their little girl- and boy-friends in Lodge Pole and Bumfuck,” one of the men said.

“Is it a good idea to encourage that?” It was a perennial question.

“It has proven to be the best source of recruits,” another man said. “The boys begin their training at the hands of their mentors—”

“You mean the catamites learn to read and write when they’re not getting fucked—”

The Senior frowned at the language and the Reverend who had spoken became quiet.

A man in a khaki uniform entered the room.

“What do we know?” The Senior asked.

“An armed rabble, made largely of children, overwhelmed the border guards but had advanced no farther than the Spring Mountains west of this city when they were met by the Army,” the man in uniform, who wore the gold oak leaves of a major replied.

“The Army was dealing with the attack, including futile attacks on our tanks by suicide bombers, when reinforcements arrived. The reinforcements were, according to the witnesses we’ve interviewed, flying in boxy aeroplanes without wings and which had weapons that fired lightning.”

The major waited until the babble of conversation died down.

“There are recorded televisor images, depositions by witnesses, and still photos that confirm both claims,” he said.

“These reinforcements removed members of the attacking rabble as well as the bodies of their dead. No survivors of the attackers were found. There was no one to question. We don’t know from where the attackers came.”

“California!” one of the Reverends said.

“Probably,” said the major. “We know they came over a pass between us and California. But we cannot be certain they are Californian.” And we dare not jeopardize our relationship with California, he thought. They are the source of the Army’s weapons—the only source.

“And the reinforcements? The ones with wingless aeroplanes and weapons of lightning?” The Senior asked the more important question. “Could they, too, have come from California?”

“We simply do not know.”

“Are they Pan-Asians?”

The major just shook his head. “We do not know.”

Chapter 25 Fleet Command—Code Red Five

“Code Red Five circuit to Geneva Main open, sir,” my Comm-O said.

“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 Sir 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 children. 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. 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,” I answered the next most important call.

“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.”

I swiveled my chair. “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?” I asked.

“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 somewhere other than on a hospital ship. Remind them that this is a hospital ship, and by tradition, unarmed.” We don’t do that, today, but perhaps these people will accept it.

“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 as an attachment.

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.”

I ignored Hanson’s implicit criticism. MXMXMX

That’s not correct. Their data are not even TS, much less Cosmic TS. They are hiding something, and they just revealed it. I typed a few lines on my keyboard. “You are, now. That is, you are cleared for Cosmic TS. Get their 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 enthusiastic, “Aye, aye, sir,” came back about as fast as light-speed 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 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 new Comm-O, and new 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. Actually, I was sure 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 in surgical prep.”

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 than I 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 no more than another twelve hours, which is considered acceptable.”

“Thank you, Jeff. You will keep an eye on hospital operations, another eye on getting everyone ambulatory settled in quarters, and another on normal ship’s operations. Yes, 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 any time you believe you need me, and it means that I will neither chastise nor 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,” I added. “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 twelve to sixteen. There are between 600 and 700 of them. The Hope‘s crew is 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 in 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 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 like something from the Franco-German war—lozenge-shaped things with treads that go all the way around them.

“Something happened. A rift opened between worlds, and 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 much. 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 nearly 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. 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 and empty.

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

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

“Please, call me Cory,” he said. “Are all my people here? Do you know where my boy— my friend, 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.”

“Cory,” I answered, “things have settled down in triage; we’ve started assigning quarters to your people. We’ll locate your friend, 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?” Cory 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 Cory smiled. Good. It was getting a little too serious in here. “The Fundamentalist Universe is a lot different from ours, in many ways.”

Cory 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.

Cory nodded. “All shuttles accounted for.”

“Captain?” It was Kevin. “I’ve located Cory’s friend. He’s on the way here, now.”

“Cory, I said, “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.”

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 with them? But, they’re kids, and you’re an adult! And, your son?

Sons, actually. Please, I will explain. I sent.

Cory nodded just as the door opened and a boy dashed to Cory. The boy stopped just before he could grab Cory, and looked around. Cory looked at me. “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 why I have two sons-boyfriends who appear to be quite a few years younger than I am.

My thoughts were interrupted by the XO. “I’ve got the rosters, sir. We have 295 from Captain Long’s universe, and 686 from the Fundamentalist universe. And one of them is outside, with a card? With your name and comm code?”

“Thank you, Jeff.”

“Jonathan?” I addressed the Comm-O. “Please give Cory a communicator, command link, and with the roster of his people. Jeff? Update that with room assignments as they become available. Give Cory 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. Cory, that includes you and Alan, if you are agreeable.”

Cory 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.

The ready room was a fancy office. There was a desk 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 really 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 and 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 like…? 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?” Artie nodded.

I continued. “Artie, I promise you that we will take care of your people’s injuries, feed and clothe you, and provide a place for you. That’s all I can guarantee—”

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.”

“How about ‘brother’ rather than ‘father’?”

I felt Artie’s disappointment and understood the reason. “Oh! You really want a daddy. You want a last name.”

Artie nodded.

“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 ducked his head, looked up, and then grinned. “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 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 then 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? Danny, you are responsible for knowing what’s going on here, on the Hope.”

The boys wanted to set up a rotational watch between the two of them. 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. I took a sip before I stared talking.

“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 factocommander 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.

When Artie finished, we asked him 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?”

“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 and with energy weapons. What was it that Arthur Clark said? Any sufficiently advanced technology cannot be distinguished from magic?”

“And,” George said, “how did they see the attacks from Universe Two? 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. “We could get an idea if we could see what they 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, please find out what orders were sent to Charleston, and the rest of the ships that are guarding the rift.”

“Sir, they were put under your command,” the XO said. His voice was a whisper. “Their orders were to guard the rift, admit shuttles whose IFF passed fleet screening criteria, and stop, board, and inspect any other ships. There haven’t been any other ships. The captain of the Charleston started electronic surveillance as a matter of procedure. They were the first on station.”

Damn Admiral Davis, anyway. He didn’t tell me, and I really don’t think I should have figured it out on my own. I’ll worry about this, later.

“Comm-O, code and send this, please. For Task Force Rift—list the ships—maintain surveillance per original orders. Continue electronic intelligence gathering and other passive measures that do not involve entering the rift. Add my signature, and the reports we’ve sent to Admiral Davis. Classify the reports for Command Eyes Only. Info the Admiral on this message, but don’t address it to him—just a cc.” That’ll let him know I know, and that I’m pissed.

“And then, let’s see those televisor images.”

The images were black and white, and grainy. When asked later about their quality, Artie said it was about normal. There were photos of the shuttles from Universe 2, but they’d been doctored. Each of the shuttles now bore the numbers “666.” The numbers were much more clear than the shuttles, themselves. The audio was scratchy, but we understood it: these were the angels of Satan who had attacked the Army of the Righteous and taken to Hell those who opposed the righteous, blah, blah, blah. It wasn’t anything but propaganda.

“Six-six-six is the number of the beast,” Artie explained. “It’s the number that will be branded on the forehead of those who serve Satan, and who will be cast into the pit of fire. They have been showing this on Sabbath evening for months, now.”

“Well, that tells us what they want their people to believe, but not necessarily what they believe,” George said.

“It’s easier to blame fictional enemies than explain something they don’t understand,” Danny said. “And, the early Christian religion was built on the myths of martyrs and persecution. They’ll turn this into a rallying cry for support, solidarity, and sacrifice.”

“Jonathan,” I looked at the Comm-O. “Ask Task Force Rift to send intell summaries to Fleet and to me on the Hope. Classified Top Secret. Send raw data to gwgteam@fleethq.fleet. That’s a secure address, and they’re cleared. I want to know what these people are saying to their initiates, the others in their power structure, and their army as well as to their counterparts elsewhere in the world.

“I want every possible passive tool of analysis turned onto the rift.”

“Everyone, give intel to Kevin. He is now head of the intel team which includes Danny, George, Casey, and Artie. You five prepare a summary plus a list of questions we need to answer. Let’s see whatever you have at our 1300 meeting.

“Quartermaster, everything okay on your end?”

“We’re okay, now, sir.” There was something in the way he said, now that caught my attention.

“Was there a problem?”

“The guy in charge at Fleet, a Captain Suggs, didn’t want to release some of the medical nanobots to treat the burn victims. Claimed he had to maintain stock for an emergency.

“I told him this was the emergency he’d been waiting for. He didn’t buy it, sir. I told him Red One. He didn’t buy that, either. So, I sent him some pictures.”

“Pictures?” I raised my eyebrow.

“Cory’s people got some good hi-def images of the battlefield, sir. I sent him some of those. He called back in less than five minutes. He was green. The supplies arrived, and he was aboard the supply tender, and helped unload. And apologized.”

“Did you, at any time, tell Captain Suggs that you were operating under my orders? Did you mention my name?”

The kid blanched. “No, sir.”

“Good.” I said. The kid brightened, but still looked a little puzzled. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be.

“This is for all of you. You do your jobs, you get done what needs to be done, and I will back you, fully. Never tell anyone, the captain said… When I give you an order, I also give you the authority to carry it out. You are then to act on your own, and do what has to be done. Questions?”

There were none. I was so proud of them.

“Cory, I want to talk to you in as soon as this meeting is over. Does anyone have anything that would be of interest to everyone? If not, I’ll take your reports individually from the bridge, later.”

“Cory, thank you for staying,” I said after the others had left.

“You’re too nice,” Cory said. “My people and I, we’re lost in your universe. We depend on you for everything, and you say thank you to me?”

“Cory,” I said. “May I have a hug?”

“Huh? Where did that come from?”

“Cory, I see a boy who has been given a burden heavier than any boy I’ve ever known. I see a boy who is supporting that burden by the dint of his will and his love for his people… his brothers. I’m so impressed by your strength, I want to hold you tightly in the hopes that some will rub off on me.”

The boy’s eyes brightened. He knew I was exaggerating, maybe even lying a little, but he came into my arms anyway. The hug was as good as any I’d ever had.

“Thanks, Paul, I did need that,” Cory said. He wiped a tear from his eyes, and then smiled. “You’re pretty special, you know?”

“Thank you, Cory. “That was a great hug. And, you’re pretty special, yourself.

“Want a donut?” The mess steward had replenished the supply.

The boy giggled. “No, thanks. Um, why did you want to talk to me in private?”

“Only because the others have their own jobs, and quite enough to do for the moment,” I said. “I promised to help you and your people. First, are they being taken care of? How is their morale?”

“The little ones are scared, and miss their adult mommies and daddies, grandparents, aunts and uncles. The older ones realize that we’re cut off from our world, and are scared. Yeah, that’s everybody. We’re all scared.

“Your people, they won’t let us back into the rift to see if the rift to our universe has opened.”

“A science ship, the Isaac Newton, is approaching the rift,” I said. “They have a team that understands rifts between universes. They’ve been looking at rifts and alternate universes for years.”

I was glad I had done my homework on the CERN-Higgs assignment.

“The Newton and the science team will start active searches. They’ll have robotic drones in the Fundamentalist Universe to search for a rift to your universe. If it’s there, they’ll let us know. The next step will be to put satellites with electronic, imagery, and rift sensors in ball-of-string orbits over the Fundamentalists’ Earth.

“Your technology is different from ours. You have FTL space flight; we do not. You have hand energy weapons, those fazers that are different from any we know. On the other hand, we have some things you don’t have. We understand the rifts, and we can detect and measure the radiation created by them.

“We’ve never been called upon to create a rift; however, there are people working on that problem.

“Cory, we will find your home, and a way to get you there.”

“Paul? May I have a hug?” Cory asked.

“Now, where did that come from,” I teased.

Cory smiled to acknowledge the tease, and then sobered. “Paul, I see a guy who is willing to make an entire universe jump through hoops just to get my people and me home. I see courage and smarts, and I want some of that to rub off on me.” The boy grinned. It was another exceptional hug.

“There’s one more thing,” I said. “You’re not quite sure about my relationship with Danny and George. It’s partly the age difference; let’s get rid of that, right away.”

I pushed, and Cory’s eyes widened. “You’re… you’re hardly older than I am!”

Yes, and I have put my life and that of my sons in your hands. It is a measure of the trust I feel for you. Will you accept that trust and keep our secret? I asked.

Cory nodded, and I felt his affirmation form in my mind. I had expected it, but still was relieved.

“Now, I said. “There’s still that there are three of us, and that Danny and George are my sons.”

Cory thought for a minute. “Three of my brothers are in a polyamorous relationship. There’s no reason they shouldn’t be happy with one another. I guess it’s just that you’re their dad, and I don’t know anyone…” His face turned red.

“Anyone who is having an incestuous relationship like that?”

“Um, actually, some of my adopted family were. But they had been forced by fathers, uncles, older brothers. We rescued them.”

“Forced relationships. You know I would never force Danny and George, don’t you?”

Cory nodded. “I guess that’s it. I associated incest with force, rape.”

“Cory, if someone were to rape a child, any child, and I knew about it, he or she wouldn’t live long enough to plead.

“In our world, at least the large part of it which is governed by Fleet, the only restrictions on sexual relationships is that there be no force, and that all participants be mentally mature enough to know what they’re doing. That applies across the board.”

I opened to Cory my feelings about Danny and George, and the rest of my team.

Cory blushed. Apparently he’d picked up a sideband. I closed my mind. “Sorry, I didn’t want you to see anything but the love.”

“It’s okay,” Cory said. He grinned. “Alex and I do that, too.”

“But now there’s something else,” Cory said. “You’re commanding this fleet, but all the other senior officers, they’re years older than you are. And, other than you and George and Danny, there are no telepaths on this ship, as far as I have found.”

“I gather that telepathy isn’t all that unusual on your world?” I asked, mostly to give myself time to think.

“Maybe one in a hundred persons,” Cory said.

“And when people first discovered that there were telepaths, how did other people react?” I asked.

“Witch hunts,” Cory said. “They were hunted, killed… oh, I see.”

“Cory, rather than one in a hundred, our telepaths may be one in a hundred million, and we haven’t actually reached that number, yet. George and Danny and I are not only telepathic, we also are surrounded with a mental shield that keeps people, most people, from wondering why there’s a Fleet Captain who is as young as I am, and why his security detail are a couple of heavily armed teenagers.

“A bunch of my people are telepaths,” Cory said. “They are trained and sworn not to reveal what they learn except in court.”

He saw my surprise, and added, “Our courts accept telepathic testimony as binding.” Then he continued. “I will remind them not to reveal what they may learn about you and Danny and George, although I don’t think it would really be necessary.”

“Probably not,” I said, and then smiled. “Still, it would make me feel a lot better about the safety of the boys I love.”

Cory and I spent a lot of time talking about what his people needed from us. The most critical was power for the shuttles. If they could power the shuttles, they could power their phasers and communicators, as well as the hand-held video games that some of the younger kids had brought. They had iPads, too, and they were completely compatible with ours—including power. Interesting.

As always, please let David know what you think of his story: david.mcleod@castleroland.net