War Angel: part nine

The rest of the crew seated at the table began to squirm a bit, processing their shock over everything they’d just heard. Sarah, Richard, and Ben were each taken aback by their knowledge of military malfeasance. The EAD was the last line of defense for the world, and as such, their perspective on its methods and motives was more than a bit naïve.

Jack Keys labored under no such emotion.

“If any of them are shocked by this, they’re kidding themselves,” he thought. “We’ve gone through two lengthy battles against a xenobiological opponent. Every possible advantage needs to exist in case they ever return, no matter how convinced the Earth United Government is that the Omegans are gone for good. And if that means the military defying the EUG and its ridiculous laws? So much the better,” Jack believed. “Whatever it takes.”

After a lengthy period of silence, Morrison broke in to get the gathering moving again. “As we are still waiting on Miss Almond, who I think will be sorry she missed this meal, let’s move on to Mr. Drake.” He gestured at Ben. “Anything interesting on the comm. channels today?”

Ben coughed. “Not much, Captain. Basic traffic, though some really clear moments of the Cup matches, so I worked on the equipment to make sure I could focus in on those signals.”

Richard piped in. “Can we get the important part? Who was playing and who won?”

“Seoul vs. Boise.” Ben added a dramatic pause for effect, then spoke rapidly, “andSeoulwasthewinner! 2-1.” The young engineer of Korean ancestry thrust a fist in the air in celebration.

Morrison rolled his eyes at the boys, reminded of his own youth, when athletic competition helped him define himself as a man. “Ahem, gentlemen. As you were saying, Mr. Drake?”

Ben looked a bit sheepish. “Yes, sir. Anyway, I worked on fine-tuning the equipment for a while, using the Cup match as a beacon, then eventually had to stop. There must be some massive solar flaring going on right now, because signals began to weaken and break pretty badly about an hour or so ago.”

“Across the board?” Morrison asked.

“Across the board, Captain. It was kind of gradual, but eventually all the channels went to static about an hour ago. Fairly standard for some of the weird solar storms we’ve been getting over the last couple of years. I figure that, being this far out, it degraded signals a bit more slowly than would have occurred if we were closer to Earth.”

Richard cocked his head, confused. “Wait a minute. I thought the hyperfrequencies were essentially storm-proof?”

Drake shrugged. “Supposedly. They use solar particles as carrier waves, so theoretically, a solar storm should only enhance the hyperfrequencies. However, if the nature of the solar particles was changed in some fashion, it might disrupt the frequencies in the event of a storm” Ben looked at the Captain. “That’s my best guess, at least, sir. I can’t think of anything else that would completely disrupt planetary communication.”

“I can,” a low voice said, piercing the room.

Gina Almond walked slowly towards the table, carrying a large bundle of papers and pictures. She was pale, shaking as though she was ill, stirring Dr. Gray to get up from the table and move to the young girl’s side. As Gina placed the materials on the table, Wilma placed her hand across her charge’s forehead, feeling for fever. Instead, what she found was a near-chill.

“Captain, I think you’d better look at these,” she said, shoving the bundle across the table, papers spilling out in front of her classmates. Morrison reached out a hand tentatively, wondering what had the girl upset, and began paging through the material in front of him. It didn’t take long for him to see what had Gina nearly catatonic.

Morrison spoke softly. “How long ago?”

“Best guess, Captain? Five days, maximum.” The rest of the table eyed her quizzically. “I… we are in trouble, you guys. Deep, deep trouble.”

The bundle dropped out of Morrison’s fingers and onto the table. “No…” he said. “I’d more say we’re totally fucked,” he said, rising from his seat and racing towards the bridge, knowing it was too late to do anything but pray.