This story takes place just after Frontier Zone;General Malkantz's Revenge.
Prologue
A large bear of a man, with curly salt-and-pepper hair, sat at a desk, his uniform jacket and office’s cap both hanging from a coat rack two feet to his right. His computer was on, set to record.
“Captain’s personal log; 17 November 2106. Where to begin, that’s the question. Yesterday’s incident was, shall we say, beyond words to describe. I’m still shaking with both anger and disgust, just thinking about it.
“Both the Shardon and their kin, the Chuns, have similar expressions. In Shardonish, it’s Chu’rosh ko’ingar ju’shingu, ishi kimush’ur ta’osh., while in Chunshar it’s Cho’ros’ah ko’ingar ju’shingu, esh’i ki’mos’ah’ir ta’ah. Roughly translated, both mean the same thing; ‘There is a darkness among the stars, deeper than space itself’.
“This expression isn’t meant to convey a physical darkness. Rather, what is being pointed out is a prevailing spiritual darkness. Both races, having come from the same parent stem, firmly believe in the absolutes of good and evil, and their speech reflects this. They both believe that both enlightenment and darkness travel between the stars, touching each world, and each inhabitant in turn.
“To them, however, many races choose, for whatever reason, to embrace darkness over enlightenment. Until yesterday’s incident, I would have disagreed. I have been taught to believe that there are no irredeemably evil races. I have always thought, given time, even the most entrenched evil ideology would fail, and be replaced by a just and good philosophy.
“Now, I’m not so sure. As of yesterday, I’ve begun to wonder. I have always thought the Mordum Hegemony’s government to be extremely corrupted, and that their Chancellor must be insane, After yesterday, however, I’m convinced that there’s something rotten in what it means to be Mordum. The truly is a darkness among the stars, and they are that darkness personified. End recording.”
Chapter One
The Death of the Morg
“Ah, my worthy opponents,” hissed the voice coming through the speaker. “You’ll both be glad to know, what remains of my forces will soon be departing. It would seem that the Chancellor needs us elsewhere. He’s recalled the divisions I requested, with the exception of one space vehicle, which will come with weapons standing down. They have orders to evacuate all of our remaining forces. You’ve won. Well played, both of you.”
“This is acceptable, General,” said Churdra. “Captain Amstutz, please see to it that the vehicle in question has safe passage, and oversee the evacuation. The sooner you are gone from our world, General, the better.”
Captain Amstutz’s voice sounded hesitant. “Churdra, are you sure? It’s up to you, but…”
“Yes, Captain,” Churdra interjected. “I want them to depart, and live with the memory of this defeat for the rest of their miserable existence.”
“As you wish, Churdra,” the Captain replied. “General Malkantz, please signal your evacuation ship to approach, gun ports closed and weapons powered down. I’ll inform the Admiral of Churdra’s decision. Amstutz out.”
“Churdra out.”
“Malkantz out,” hissed the General.
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Once the Mordum were off of Morglan, and their ship was well under way, the Captian turned to his Exec.
“Mister Running Wolf, you have the Conn. I’m going to lead a landing party to meet with Churdra, and see what assistance we can render. After all…”
“Captain!” interjected the freckle faced young man at the science station. “Sir! I’m reading an energy spike, from the planet’s surface!”
“What?!” the Captain Exclaimed. “Where?!”
“The abandoned Mordum airbase, sir!” the Science Officer replied. “It’s the base’s matter/antimatter reactor, sir! That thing’s still active! Reactor breach imminent!”
The Captain turned to the African American man at the helm. “Mister Knox, take us out of orbit, NOW!”
Before he even finished his sentence, the Captain could feel the ship yawing astarboard.
Then came the flash, followed by the subspace shockwave.
The Captain flipped a switch on his chair arm. “All hands, this is the Captain! Brace for…”
It was too late. The inertial dampeners were hard pressed to keep up, as the ship was tossed about like a kite in a category five hurricane. The E.M.P. from the explosion shut down the main power, and, for what seemed an eternity, the entire ship was dark, without gravity, and getting cold. When the emergency generators finally kicked in, there was an collective sigh of relief on the Command Deck.
That relief was short lived, however, when the Science Officer spoke up again. “Captain, I’m reading massive tectonic disturbances from deep within the planet, near the matter/antimatter power core for the planet’s Great Computer! Sir, if that blows, it will vaporize the planet, and anything within…”
“Mister Knox, do we have power to thrusters?!” the Captain enquired.
“Affirmative, sir. However, the sublight engines are offline, captain. Trying to maneuver on thru…”
“Just do what you can, Mister Knox.” said the Captain. “Put as much distance between us and the planet as possible. Mister Gitter, try to raise the Morg, and warn them. If there’s anyone alive down there, then tell them to get the hell off planet.”
The young brunette sitting at Communications wiped the blood from her brow, and said, “Sir, there’s too much tachyon interference for me to get through.”
The Captain sighed, then nodded, “Keep trying, Sharon. If anyone can do it, Lieutenant, it’s you.”
The Helm Officer then spoke up, “Sir, we have sublight engines at half power. Engaging now, sir.”
“Very good. Tell Engineering good…” the Captain’s sentence was cut off by a sudden thrust forward, accompanied by darkness, no gravity, and all of the other signs of yet another ship wide power failure.
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Chapter Two
Revelations in the Darkness
Captain Amstutz sat across the briefing room table from a short blonde, her hair pulled up into a bun.
“How are repairs going, Captain?” asked the woman.
“We’ll have partial main power in about twelve hours, Admiral,” the Captain replied. “I’m told we’ll be able to make seventeen light-years per day. Enough for us to limp back to New Guam for all of the major repairs. We were lucky, Admiral. Had we been fifty thousand kilometers coser, we would have been destroyed.”
“Well, Captain,” said the Admiral, “I’m glad that did not happen. I’ll be frank with you, Captain. We’d hate to lose either Ticonderoga or her crew. She’s the best ship in the Navy, and she has the finest crew there is.”
The Captain frowned. He always felt that his people were among the best, if not the best in the Navy, but Admiral Dolinski’s compliment seemed somehow disingenuous to him.
“Thank you, Admiral,” the Captain replied.
“Now, Captain,” said the Admiral, “on to the matter of yesterday’s incident. You and your crew are under strict orders not to discuss the matter with anyone until further notice. After all, our diplomats are still in peace negotiations with the Mordum, and we can’t jeopardize those proceedings.”
The Captain was in shock. “Surely, Admiral, the state of affairs has changed, with the attack on our Embassy on Morglan, following the Mordum takeover of the planet. We can’t let an act of war go unpunished. After all…”
“Belay that, Mister,” said the Admiral, in a calm monotone, which, to those who knew her, was her way of conveying controlled anger. “You have your orders. Most of the people back home don’t even know that the Morg exist. They won’t want restart the war over an incident in the boonies. Besides, if we do get involved, it will give hate groups like the Righteous Cause incentive to take advantage of the situation, and stir up anti-alien fervor.
“The press has already been told that the planet was destroyed by an accident, due to a malfunction in the Great Computer’s power source. It’s enough that the Morg rebels were able to free their world. Why complicate matters for the few remaining Morg in the galaxy by involving them, and ourselves, in a shooting war with the Mordum? Besides, the Shardon declaration of war against the Mordum will keep the latter at bay for quite some time. It’s simply not our concern. Dismissed.”
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"Captain’s personal log; 17 November 2106. After my debriefing with Admiral Dolinski on board the Nimitz, I have to wonder what in hell is going on? To ignore all of the events that led up to yesterday’s incident is unconscionable. Seven and a half billion Morg, murdered by a monster, and our government wants to cover it up? To what end?
“We can’t simply walk away from this like nothing happened! Something must be done about this! General Malkantz and his Chancellor have gotten away with murder! Have we grown so cold as to allow such a thing to happen? No, not cold. We’ve become worse than cold. We’ve become lukewarm. We’ve allowed ourselves to become fence sitters. And all because it’s not ‘politically correct’ to call evil what it is
"The Shardon and Chuns are right. There is a darkness among the stars. It’s the darkness of the heart, and the blackness of political correctness that binds us, and keeps us from doing what is just. When will we learn? Martin Luther King, jr.. once said; ‘History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people’. He also said; ‘To ignore evil is to become an accomplice to it’. How can we ignore this evil? We can’t. We mustn’t. We can’t act now without support, but we must, and we will, act. End recording.”
Epilogue
While maintenance bots worked to repair her hull damage, and engineers labored to repair her engines, USS Ticonderoga’s Captain waited and watched. She was the flagship of the Ticonderoga Class, the “Old Lady”, and the “Tico”. But mostly, she was Captain Amstutz’s pride and joy, his ship, his charge, and until recently, his one true love.
As he watched out the porthole at his ship being repaired, he could sense a presence. He knew that the Leyte Gulf had arrived, of course, so he was expecting her. When he turned, and looked down the corridor, he saw her. She didn’t so much walk as glide toward him.
Her tan and white fur, her feline features, and her bright green eyes all said volumes about her race. To the outside observer, she was either Shardon or Chun. Her uniform was that of a U.S. Navy Officer, and her rank was that of Commander. But to Jacob Amstutz, she was, for the moment at least, none of these. To him, she was the love of his life. She was To’ying’li. But, by the diamond ring she wore on her left hand, it was clear that she was soon to be To’ying Amstutz.
To’ying approached Jacob, and neither of them said a word. They simply embraced, and kissed each other passionately. They then turned, hand-in-hand, and stared out the porthole. Not a word was spoken, and not a sound could be heard, and the only distraction was the occasional spark of the plasma welders which flare silently outside. For that moment time seemed to stop, and Jacob could forget about the darkness among the stars.
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