Chapter 9: When a plan comes together
If there's one thing I hate, it's military planning. In point of fact, I hate a lot of things, but at the time, this one was top of my list. The language barrier made things worse--how were we supposed to plan a joint offensive with a species we could barely communicate with, much less relate to?
Bless her heart, Lieutenant Arnold did her best. The Oolians gave us this technology we called "Unilang." It translated any language it recognized into a deceptively simple conceptual graph. Understanding the graphs took years of training, as the lovely Lieutenant could attest. Since languages--particularly ones belonging to other species--could not easily be translated on a one-to-one basis. The graphs related more than just the word-concepts, they also provided useful contextual information, and insights into the tone and intentions of the speaker. The Unilang system even functioned to some degree as a lie detector--it used common vocal or more esoteric markers to discern deception. I always counted on my Communications Specialist to give me the gist without omitting anything important.
But when it came down to the nitty-gritty details of planning a cooperative effort with the Koraxians rebels, she encountered difficulties. Collins, 'smyth-Kennedy, Arnold, Vorlano, and myself sat around a conference table, a vocal link to the Koraxians briding the space between. We couldn't see them face-to-face--hell, we weren't even sure they had faces. But she worked furiously to parse each of their responses to us.
Eventually, we got numerous options narrowed down to one framework.
The Koraxians explained, via Ms. Arnold: "We will tow your vessel to the staging area as a captured prize. It is standard procedure for the base patrol, consisting of three craft, to inspect an enemy vessel, even if disabled. Once they are concentrating on inspecting your ship, we will break off and begin our attack on the base itself. As soon as the other ships realize what is happening, they will turn on your ship. At that moment, power up and launch your hull disruptor missiles. This will severely damage them and they will seek to put distance between your ship and theirs. Pursue and destroy each one. We will do likewise after crippling the base's defenses."
It wasn't an overly complicated plan. A good old-fashioned ruse, we hoped, would catch the Koraxians with their pants down simply because they wouldn't know what to expect from us. The rebels assured us this was the case, too, and I had no reason to suspect them of lying. They even divulged a bit of trivia I wouldn't have guessed: "We have reconnoitered the status of each patrol ship and possess the proper resonance frequencies for your hull disruptor weapons. Each ship is unique and has its own lethal frequency. It is the one flaw in our crystalline vessels."
They were, indeed, kind enough to give us the requisite info. I wondered how a bunch of rebels got such detailed knowledge of what must have been a high-security area. I admit to being suspicious of their motives, but I couldn't decide exactly for what purpose they'd want to capture a Terran ship--especially this one, with its common and obsolescent design. Something like an Orion-class ship would be a much worthier for espionage, I thought. As a precaution, I had Sam lock down our databases behind the strongest security measures available, just in case the ship fell into enemy hands. He realized then that I had suspicions, small as they might have been. Jenna, at least, wasn't perturbed by it--if anything, she was disappointed I hadn't suggested it sooner.
We finished up our discussion and agreed to proceed in twelve hours. The Koraxians had some repairs to attend to, they said, so we had to wait. I jumped at the chance to get some sleep, and so did the rest of my shift. On the way to my quarters, I stopped to peek out one of the windows facing our new friends, curious as to how they performed "repairs." Along the blue-green, glistening surface, I saw numerous tiny, green blobs, moving furiously over the outside of the ship. Visible cracks were sealed, and I have to say I was impressed by the spectacle of these little things, crawling all over the hull, quickly effecting repairs. I had no idea what they were--some kind of biotechnology? Koraxians themselves, capable of surviving in vacuum? I had no clue, really. I mentally filed it as something to ask about later, and then I hit the rack. If I had to go on a suicide mission, or even into a trap, I wanted to be wide awake, see it coming, and be ready to give a big, fat "fuck you" to the Grim Reaper.
Chapter 9
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If there's one thing I hate,
Bless her heart, Lieutenant Arnold did her best. The Oolians gave us this technology we called "Unilang." It translated any language it recognized into a deceptively simple conceptual graph. Understanding the graphs took years of training, as the lovely Lieutenant could attest. Since languages--particularly ones belonging to other species--could not easily be translated on a one-to-one basis. (This sentence seems incomplete.) The graphs related more than just the word-concepts, they also provided useful contextual information, and insights into the tone and intentions of the speaker. The Unilang system even functioned to some degree as a lie detector--it used common vocal or more esoteric markers to discern deception. I always counted on my Communications Specialist to give me the gist without omitting anything important.
But when it came down to the nitty-gritty details of planning a cooperative effort with the Koraxians rebels, she encountered difficulties. Collins, 'smyth-Kennedy, Arnold, Vorlano, and myself sat around a conference table, a vocal link to the Koraxians briding the space between. We couldn't see them face-to-face--hell, we weren't even sure they had faces. But she worked furiously to parse each of their responses to us.
Eventually, we got numerous options narrowed down to one framework.
The Koraxians explained, via Ms. Arnold: "We will tow your vessel to the staging area as a captured prize. It is standard procedure for the base patrol, consisting of three craft, to inspect an enemy vessel, even if disabled. Once they are concentrating on inspecting your ship, we will break off and begin our attack on the base itself. As soon as the other ships realize what is happening, they will turn on your ship. At that moment, power up and launch your hull disruptor missiles. This will severely damage them and they will seek to put distance between your ship and theirs. Pursue and destroy each one. We will do likewise after crippling the base's defenses."
It wasn't an overly complicated plan. A good old-fashioned ruse, we hoped, would catch the Koraxians with their pants down simply because they wouldn't know what to expect from us. The rebels assured us this was the case, too, and I had no reason to suspect them of lying. They even divulged a bit of trivia I wouldn't have guessed: "We have reconnoitered the status of each patrol ship and possess the proper resonance frequencies for your hull disruptor weapons. Each ship is unique and has its own lethal frequency. It is the one flaw in our crystalline vessels."
They were, indeed, kind enough to give us the requisite info. I wondered how a bunch of rebels got such detailed knowledge of what must have been a high-security area. I admit to being suspicious of their motives, but I couldn't decide exactly for what purpose they'd want to capture a Terran ship--especially this one, with its common and obsolescent design. Something like an Orion-class ship would be a much worthier for espionage, I thought. As a precaution, I had Sam lock down our databases behind the strongest security measures available, just in case the ship fell into enemy hands. He realized then that I had suspicions, small as they might have been. Jenna, at least, wasn't perturbed by it--if anything, she was disappointed I hadn't suggested it sooner.
We finished up our discussion and agreed to proceed in twelve hours. The Koraxians had some repairs to attend to, they said, so we had to wait. I jumped at the chance to get some sleep, and so did the rest of my shift. On the way to my quarters, I stopped to peek out one of the windows facing our new friends, curious as to how they performed "repairs." Along the blue-green, glistening surface, I saw numerous tiny, green blobs, moving furiously over the outside of the ship. Visible cracks were sealed, and I have to say I was impressed by the spectacle of these little things, crawling all over the hull, quickly effecting repairs. I had no idea what they were--some kind of biotechnology? Koraxians themselves, capable of surviving in vacuum? I had no clue, really. I mentally filed it as something to ask about later, and then I hit the rack. If I had to go on a suicide mission, or even into a trap, I wanted to be wide awake, see it coming, and be ready to give a big, fat "fuck you" to the Grim Reaper.