I Have a Question: A novel

By Macintosh Steele

The Alliance planets had waged war with the Consortium planets for years. They have finally agreed to a truce. Then a previously unknown planet was discovered and its location and possible strategic advantages caused a new ripple in the pending peace. A terrible solution was suggested: destroy the planet. A joint fleet to accomplish that awful result was on it way to carry out the mission. But residing on the planet, if it could be called a planet, was a mysterious Old Man who had plans of his own. After thwarting every attempt to destroy his planet, he gave everyone on both sides a tremendous lesson in humility and effectively stopped their war.
The Old Man then takes the crew of the Star Cruiser Infinity on a new mission that no one could have ever anticipated, a mission to save their universe. Admiral Jenki learns much about his past that had remained hidden within him and Captain Edmonds dramatically reunites with his severely disabled brother. Together they travel to an unknown place to confront a gigantic new threat.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798823000918

Macintosh Steele

Macintosh Steele resides in New Hampshire on a family fruit and vegetable farm where he was raised. He has long been a creator of stories, but this is the first one he has written down. He has had a very diversified career including farming, carpentry, blacksmithing, law and tax preparation, and now writing. He has a Bachelor of Science degree and Law degree from Cornell University. He enjoys a complex story and the challenge in making that story move along to an unexpected ending.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

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Admiral Jenki, normally the epitome of selflessness, slowly sipped the rare 108-year-old cognac from the glass. It had been crafted in France on his home planet, Earth, in the year 3654 of the standard Earth calendar and had been given to him as a gift by an old mentor. He had saved it for nearly fifteen years and vowed that he would drink it only when peace was finally at hand. It was a personal promise as well as a personal triumph, so he shared this with no one. The past thirty-two years of conflict and war had taken their toll on the admiral, emotionally as well as physically. His wife and two children had been killed in a savage and unexpected attack on Earth more than twenty-seven years earlier. His grief was monumental, both for his personal loss and for the loss of the other seventeen million victims.

The attack had occurred while the admiral was heading a peace delegation from Earth to a rendezvous at a remote space station with similar delegations representing the 404 enemy planets located within the Fifth Axial swirl of the galaxy. The admiral believed the attack to be partially a result of his personal failure to negotiate an earlier truce. No one else within the Alliance of Planets held that belief. The loss of his leg and part of his arm in a later battle was not a concern to the admiral, but the complications from the insertion of prosthetic controls within his neurological matrix had caused some anxiety for the medical staff on the Omicron class star cruiser, which the admiral now commanded, Star Cruiser Infinity.

At the time of the attack, the delegation was on board a new Armada class warship on its maiden flight. To the great consternation of the admiral and the other members of the delegation, the ship had experienced a slight navigational glitch that placed the ship about twelve hours behind its scheduled arrival at the space station. The precise timing of the arrival of all delegations had been negotiated extensively so that all Alliance member delegations would arrive at and be settled within the space station at least twenty hours before the arrival of the enemy delegations. While such slight navigational adjustments were not uncommon during the first few voyages of new ships, the entire delegation feared that such a late arrival would diminish their effectiveness at the peace talks.

Yet this delay saved all of their lives. Their enemies, collectively called the Quagga Consortium Planets, had infiltrated the space station over a period of three or four years. At the precise moment of simultaneous attacks on Earth and Alliance member planet Morja, the space station was destroyed by the infiltrated staff. All other delegations from all other Alliance member planets were killed. Fortunately for the admiral and the Earth delegation, the new ship did have a properly functioning deep space gamma photon communication link, perfected by the Alliance only within the prior eight months. This new link allowed nearly instantaneous communication between such gamma photon links, regardless of the distance between the links. Though untested at such great distances, the link provided an immediate Red Omega alert to the admiral. The admiral instinctively deviated the ship’s course and speed, pending confirmation of the nature of the alert. This deviation kept the ship out of range of the sensor arrays of the Quagga ships located near the space station’s coordinates. The confirmation message of the attacks on Earth and Morja came next. The admiral’s life and the lives of countless others changed forever.

The complexity and coordination and, more particularly, the severity and accuracy of the attacks had baffled the military commands of the Alliance planets. The distance between Morja and Earth was nearly the entire width of their axial swirl. But even with this great distance, the attacks occurred almost simultaneously. It was not believed that Quagga technology existed at that time that would allow such precision. Some believed that spies must have been buried deeply within the Alliance and must have passed on the gamma photon technology. Since that time, no evidence of use of the technology has been found, further compounding the mystery. Some suspected new technology from elsewhere in the galaxy had been imported by the Quagga, but again, no proof was ever found, and there was no other known technology available.

Reprisal attacks against the Consortium Planets occurred, and a long and hopeless war played itself out without apparent winners or losers. Casualties were high. Planets, nations, families, and lives were torn apart and destroyed. Both sides of the ferocious conflict were weakened and stretched to their economic and military limits. Then suddenly one year ago, a diplomatic resolution was suggested by the Quagga. Following the typical positioning and negotiating that diplomatic resolutions seemed to require, a truce was substantially agreed to.

The only stumbling block to the truce was created by the innocent existence of a small planet located on the very outer fringe of the galaxy, equally distanced from the nearest Alliance and Consortium planets. The planet had no name and had never been explored. Indeed, its existence was only discovered during the final months of the conflict. But it was a Class 10 planet and, therefore, would support life for all members of both sides of the conflict. Its location, though extremely remote, created the real problem. The fear was that either side, using stealth technology and sensor dispersion arrays, could build formidable front-line strike fortifications on the planet and gain an incredibly secure foothold on the very edge of the demarcation line of the treaty territories. The planet apparently had an unusual orbit around a very large star. This orbit seemed to cause the planet to be hidden by the star, and the size and density of the star itself seemed to deflect all customary sensor sweeps that both sides routinely aimed at all remote regions of the galaxy.

It probably would not have been discovered at all except for an unusual and bizarre event that caused an Alliance space probe to careen wildly off its intended flight path. About two months into its mission, the probe passed extremely close to an enormous asteroid that had totally escaped detection by any stellar surveillance technologies of the Alliance. Not only did the massive gravitational pull of the asteroid deflect the flight path of the probe, but it also apparently emitted a strong electromagnetic field that disabled all flight coordination controls on board the probe. The asteroid itself followed a path that caused no further damage, but the ability to control the direction of the probe was lost. Several months later, the probe relayed back to an Alliance space station sketchy details of the new planet. The details had been intercepted by the Consortium so that both sides had knowledge of this new location. Before the peace negotiations could be completed, the planet had been further scanned by long-range sensor arrays that provided a little more information. It appeared to be a Class 10 planet, and it was believed to be uninhabited. Then a very disturbing solution was proposed and agreed to. The planet would be destroyed.

To Admiral Jenki, the solution was disgusting. He had prided himself for his beliefs that all life had to be respected, including plant life and environments that may have been strange to contemporary thinking. He had argued strongly and urgently that other solutions would work. He had stressed that possibilities for joint control of the planet could be worked out or that an absolute ban against any exploration or settlement of the planet would provide all the necessary protection. But he knew that such solutions would only bring corruption eventually. As much as he hated the solution of death to the planet, he recognized that the very remoteness of the planet was its downfall. Neither side had the capabilities to properly police that portion of the galaxy. And sooner or later, the temptation to visit this new place would be too great to ignore. Sooner or later, it could become a pawn in another awful war. Sooner or later, the decision would have to be made again.

So Admiral Jenki again lifted his glass—this time hoping that their collective wisdom was right and that to sacrifice a single, uninhabited planet was morally correct. For a reason he did not fully recognize, let alone understand, he had a very uncomfortable feeling deep within himself. Perhaps the rigors and losses of war had eaten into him more than he realized, or perhaps he was just emotionally overwhelmed with all that he had been through in his life. Whatever the reason, he was unsettled. It must be this assignment, he decided.

The assignment was to take this marvel of technology, the Omicron class space cruiser, to the new planet. He led an expedition force of fifty Alliance ships. They had met with fifty Consortium ships of similar size and fire power at a location in the galaxy that was diplomatically neutral but still a very long way from the planet. They now were all traveling cautiously through relatively uncharted regions of the galaxy toward their target. The distance alone required a total flight time of six months for a ship in excellent condition and ability. Traveling as a fleet had caused some annoying but expected delays. Finally, they were only one day away from the target and soon would be in range to conduct some very specific scans of the region and the planet. He resented calling the planet a target, but that was to be the accepted protocol. It would take the collective fire power of all the ships to destroy the planet, so diplomatic protocols were necessary to make sure that only the planet was destroyed. Each side had created simultaneous communication links with their own nearest space stations and planets so that these proceedings could be properly monitored and documented.

In order to avoid a repeat of the infamous peace talk disaster of twenty-seven years ago, each ship on this mission carried a diplomatic contingent from the other side. The stated intent was to assure that all protocols were carried out, but the real reason was to place in harm’s way some of their own people and to have some of the enemy people in their control. It was really prearranged hostage taking. The admiral hoped that the contingent on his ship was not expendable. The arrangement reminded him of feudal Japan of the sixteenth century on his home planet, Earth. He grimaced somewhat at the irony of using feudal practices in this glorious age of space exploration and again hoped that his hostages were of significant importance on their home planets.

He had avoided any contact with them during the voyage, but he knew that they soon would have to meet, review the protocol procedures, and verify all of the steps that each side would have to oversee during the targeting sequence. It was imperative that each diplomatic contingent on every ship verify and confirm all weapon discharge coordinates, all targeting details, and all lockdown procedures for any ship weapons not being used for the planet destruction. After the planet had been destroyed, all ships would return to their own territories, with their respective contingents. Once there, the diplomatic contingents from each side would be taken to a neutral zone in the galaxy and exchanged. This would place the fewest number of ships from each side in proximity to ships from the other side and would hopefully avoid even the slightest opportunity for aggression. Much distrust existed on both sides, and rightfully so. At best, this would be an uneasy peace, but peace nonetheless.

It was time to start. Admiral Jenki finished his cognac, changed to his command uniform, and set off for the bridge to review the results of the preliminary scans.

CHAPTER 2

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Admiral on the bridge, Lieutenant Salton announced with authority as Admiral Jenki arrived.

All personnel assumed a relaxed attention stance, as was customary on star cruisers, especially on one commanded by Admiral Jenki. The admiral was never a strict adherent to formality that would only weaken a crew’s efficiency.

At ease, everyone. We have much to do, and we must keep our wits about us. Ensign, have you found anything provocative for me? The admiral directed his inquiry to the young woman operating the main sensor array.

We have just begun a sweep of the third-range sector with the neuron transmittal scope. We have not detected any emission trails showing any vessels within the sector ahead of us. We won’t be able to do a trace analysis for stealth craft until we are within two hundred million kilometers of the second-range sector. We estimate that will be available within four hours. Sorry, sir. Not much to report yet.

That’s fine, Ensign. And let me know as soon as we get any data about this planet’s atmosphere and core analysis. I want all possible scenarios outlined as soon as possible. We don’t want the Quagga telling us how we’re going to set this up. Captain Edmonds, do you have your teams briefed?

Yes, Admiral, he responded. Preliminary targeting sequences will be computed first and assigned to each sector leader. We’ll then see how the Quagga accept our array patterns.

Captain Edmonds was a legend in the Alliance, almost as formidable and mysterious as the admiral. His normal command was on one of the newer attack ships that was equipped with the latest in stealth technology and ultra-high-resolution posiphoton shielding. Those defense mechanisms together with cobalt fusion pulse generators for offensive strikes made the new generation of attack ships virtually undetectable, impossible to damage, and nearly impossible to defend against. To couple those advantages with the skill and cunning of Captain Edmonds created an offensive force that was seemingly indefensible. Edmonds had led the attack on a remote Quagga planet that was surprisingly successful and brutal. Many attributed the current peace accord to that victory. The Quagga, it was learned through intelligence reports originating deep within the Quagga military establishment, were completely overwhelmed within hours of the beginning of the attack and never mounted any counteroffensive. It was reported that they could not even find the attacking ships, let alone target them. The victory was historic in its success and importance. Nonetheless, some were surprised by the abrupt offer for peace talks, although no one was disappointed. The war had taken a very heavy toll on both sides, and all planets and civilizations were nearly crippled.

Captain Edmonds’s assignment was to coordinate the actual discharge of the weapons by the Alliance in its part to destroy the planet. The weapons discharge had to occur precisely and exactly in synchronization with the weapons discharge of the Quagga ships. In order to completely destroy the planet, the ships had to be spaced evenly around the planet. Four ships would be assigned to target each of twenty-five kill zones. Of each group of four, two were Quagga ships, and two were Alliance ships. One of each would simultaneously fire a high-density plasma pulse round at a coordinate on the planet that would create a plasma-enriched thermal puddle at the surface. One half second later, the other two ships would fire a quantum level 5 de-flocculation round that would penetrate the target surface through the plasma puddle to a depth of about one hundred kilometers. The result would be to create a rift in the planet surface that would allow internal pressures and heat to instantly rupture upward toward the surface. One such rupture would create catastrophic seismic eruptions on the planet. Twenty-five ruptures should cause the planet to explode, if they occurred all at once, and if all targeting coordinates were accurate, and if the surface structure of the planet was reasonably uniform, and if … Too many ifs. Too many variables. Too many opportunities for sabotage.

Captain Edmonds and Admiral Jenki exchanged glances. Jenki had detected a slight hesitation in Edmonds’s reply and was disturbed.

Captain, a word with you in my briefing room. Ensign, notify me immediately of any unusual findings. With that, Admiral Jenki led the way off the bridge to the adjacent briefing room. Edmonds followed and closed the door as they entered.

Yes, Admiral, Edmonds responded as soon as the door was closed.

Bill, are we ready? Are you ready? Jenki asked.

Yes, sir … Edmonds answered unconvincingly.

Ah, but what? Come on, Bill. Now is not the time to be evasive.

Yes, sir. I don’t mean to be evasive, sir. I am just troubled by the complexity of this mission. It’s been smooth sailing so far, I admit. But two things still trouble me. I’m concerned that we haven’t resolved that slight navigation deviation we’ve had the past few days. It’s almost like we flew through something that messed us up. But we can’t find anything. Normally I wouldn’t worry too much, but this assignment is crucial.

I agree. And yet we must proceed as scheduled. Jenki nodded. What else? You said two things.

I’m very puzzled by the limited information we have on this planet. The initial reports seem to indicate that it is of an asymmetrical shape somehow. I don’t think I have ever heard of a planet that is not spherical, but as you yourself observed, it seems misshapen. And what about its orbit? How is it that we have never seen evidence of it on the near side of its sun? It just doesn’t make sense. The crazy explanations don’t make sense. What happens if our plan doesn’t work—or can’t work?

Admiral Jenki sat down and stared at the floor for a moment, frowning.

Ah, Bill, you’re right. Too many unanswered questions. But what can we do? There is no time to backtrack … or renegotiate … or do much of anything but proceed. I have had ill feelings about this mission from the start. Or maybe just ill feelings about destroying a planet. Jenki frowned again and wondered if it was ill feelings about destroying this planet. But why would it be? He shook his head to remove the thought.

Well, we have to take the facts as we get them. I think the navigational issue will be resolved. We’re dealing with that with minute correctional sequencing. The planet will be what it will be, and we’ll have to adjust as we learn more. But above all, we must maintain a positive persona for the crew. We don’t need them worrying about their leaders. And we certainly don’t want the Quagga contingent suspecting any uncertainties in us. But whenever we need to talk, we must do so. I need your insight to make sure we miss nothing. Back to the bridge.

Yes, sir. But may I ask a similar question, without being … ah … disrespectful?

Certainly.

Are you also ready, sir? I ask only because you seem somewhat detached from the mission. I do not mean to criticize or suggest that you are in any way improperly dealing with issues and procedures. It is just that I have never seen you as withdrawn into yourself as I have noticed during the past few weeks. I am only offering my observations and also offering to make myself available for any relevant discussions. I apologize if I have overstepped with my inquiry.

No apology necessary. As I said, I don’t like this solution or this mission. But I do admit I seem more preoccupied with this particular planet, or this particular solution. But we have our orders, and we will proceed. Yes, I am ready, and we will be ready. Thank you for your concern.

With that, Admiral Jenki just stood motionless for a few moments, as if in deep thought. He lowered his head and shook it slowly for a moment. Edmonds noticed this and again felt the same concern. Then Jenki turned and headed out of the briefing room and back to the bridge.

Admiral on the bridge, Lieutenant Salton announced.

At ease, everyone. Anything new, Ensign?

No, sir.

Very well, responded the admiral. We will maintain this course, with necessary corrections. Captain Edmonds, verify that all our ships are in compliance with approach protocols. I believe that we will be ready to bring the Consortium review contingent to the bridge in four hours so that we may coordinate a procedures check with the other ships. I have reviewed the communications with our review contingent on the Consortium command ship, and they are satisfied that there have been no unusual events on board there. They did report that tensions are very high on that ship. I will return to the bridge in three hours. But let me know if any new information turns up. I have some communiques to send off to Mission Headquarters.

With that, Admiral Jenki left the bridge. All personnel breathed a little easier, except Captain Edmonds.

CHAPTER 3

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What! That’s impossible! Captain Edmonds nearly shouted. Notify the admiral immediately!

Notify me about what? the admiral asked as he entered the bridge.

Admiral on the bridge, Salton announced.

The admiral glanced at Salton with an annoyed look as he asked, What have we found?

We just received a full scan of the planet. It’s shaped like a disc! exclaimed Edmonds as he turned the monitor for the admiral to see.

And sure enough, the scan showed a concave, disc-shaped image about one-eighth thick as it was wide.

The scale and orientation to the sun? the admiral asked.

Approximately six thousand kilometers in diameter and seven hundred and fifty kilometers thick, Edmonds answered. And the concave side is facing and aligned to the sun.

What else do we know?

We’re analyzing the data now. We should have composition information soon, as well as environmental details. This can’t be possible, though, Edmonds responded.

Jenki said nothing for a few moments as he stared at the image. Well, apparently it can be. He continued staring at the monitor as an ever so slight inquisitive smile came over his face.

The data began to display on the screen. The planet seemed to be composed of dense metallic minerals, mostly iron ores and heavy metals. There did not appear to be any core material difference and certainly not a molten interior. The perimeter of the planet showed thick bands of what appeared to be pure silver, cobrillium, and crystalline lianthus, all elements that were crucial to modern propulsion systems and energy generation technology.

How thick are those bands? someone asked.

The ensign bringing up the data extracted some details and answered, They appear to be about fifty kilometers wide and perhaps as deep. Enough energy source to satisfy the needs of thousands of planets for centuries. Everyone just looked at one another in astonishment. Many shook their heads. Impossible, Can’t believe it, and Gotta be a mistake were among the many whispers.

The data showed no water of any kind, no mountains or valleys, no rivers—just a large, uniformly shaped disc with no variation in the surface.

The data continued to be displayed. Atmospheric composition analysis showed oxygen at 35 percent, carbon dioxide at 4 percent, nitrogen at 59 percent, and trace elements as the remainder. There were no elements toxic to normal living beings present. Then the truly amazing data began to show up. Plant life seemed to uniformly cover nearly the entire surface within the elemental bands except for a ten-kilometer circular area near the center of the disc, and that area seemed to be a gravel or sandy surface. But the plant life was astonishing! It appeared to be densest in the center and nearly seventeen kilometers high. No other known planet had ever had plant life of that size, and this plant life seemed to be all trees.

The data also indicated that there was no decipherable orbit around the sun and that there was no rotation of the planet. The lack of orbit certainly explained why the planet had never been seen on a different side of the sun. But no one could understand why the planet hadn’t burst into flames or why it hadn’t crashed into the sun. Everyone was asking questions at once, but no one had answers.

Finally, Edmonds declared, Ensign, we need to run scanning calibration tests immediately! This can’t be right.

I’m already doing that, sir. But all tests are showing correct parameters. I think the scan is accurate. I’m also conducting a scan using a low-resolution interface radar arrangement. They normally aren’t effective at this range. But it might show an error in the gross image. I’m trying everything I have.

Communications started pouring in from other ship, initially from Alliance ships. Everyone was just reading their scans and were just as astonished as the crew on the Infinity. Everyone was questioning the results, but no one was finding any discrepancies or system errors.

The communications officer blurted out, "Admiral Jenki, a visi-link request from Admiral Sobo on the Jugaret is coming in."

Admiral Kvanitz Sobo, the ruthless military commander of the Consortium planets, had been designated to lead the Consortium ships on this mission in the command ship Jugaret. He had little compassion for any kind of life outside of military forces and had a savage disposition and demeanor. Few members of the Alliance military forces had ever met or seen him, and no one trusted him. He had assumed command of the mission because he said he was the best suited to lead and assure that no one would double-cross the Quagga. His animosity to all life in the Alliance Federation was legendary. It was generally believed that he directed the attack on Morja, where the carnage was much more severe than on Earth. A captured Quagga soldier admitted the rumor that Sobo had instructed all Quagga soldiers to kill everyone they encountered, whether soldiers, civilians, wounded, young, old, or disabled. He also admitted that any Quagga soldier who was wounded should also be killed so that no prisoners could be interrogated. Sobo wanted no possibility of Quagga military logistics or operational protocols falling into the intelligence gatherers of the Alliance. It was also rumored that Sobo advanced within the Quagga military due to his ability to brutally eliminate competitors within the ranks and to intimidate all others with the threat of death or torture. And yet all of his deeds were carried out by subordinates at his direction. With such methods, any failures or intercepted deeds could be blamed on others. Sobo worked within the sphere of the shadows. It was also rumored that Sobo was the commander of the defense force that was annihilated by Captain