"You want to risk a full-scale war? Over a colony that isn’t even ours? Are you mad?” The Galactic Alliance ambassador shook his head, “Millions of people horribly killed. Complete destruction of our culture and civilizations. Disaster, disease, starvation, horrible, lingering death, pain and anguish!" The ambassador sighed, "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Surely you can see ours is a better way!"
"By avoiding war at all costs?" The human demanded incredulously.
"The best way to avoid further violence and conflict is to simply put an end to the fighting. No concessions are made, no negotiation, no nothing. Keep your nose out of trouble, and no trouble will come to you. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."
"But what if they take chunks of your territory a little bit at a time? What about your rights? What about your duty to protect your own people? What about your friends and allies?” The human demanded.
The Alliance ambassador scoffed, "I hardly think a border dispute is worth starting a war that could end civilization. Learn to live, human, there is no other way."
The human scowled, “The Gorashni are our oldest friends, Mr Ambassador."
“Learn to live, human.”
The human was silent for a long moment. "Sometimes peace is another word for surrender."
~~
In a bar on a human space station, interstellar news was playing. The bartender struck a plastic alcohol container against a metal pipe, "Hey, everyone shut up! They're making the announcement!"
The humans and aliens quieted down. On the bar viewscreen, a human newsreader cleared his throat, "Over the last two months, the Gorash Combine colony in Sector 957 has been blockaded by raiders from the Vang Imperium. They destroyed their main defenses in the first week. Gorashni defenders have resorted to guerilla warfare while the raiders raid and bomb the colony with impunity. According to reports, the colonists are low on supplies, and the situation is dire.”
Freighter Captain Luella Bates set her drink down. She looked around at her crew. “Hey, maybe if the UN does something, we won’t have to go.”
“Yeah, but we won’t get paid,” Her human XO, James Banning, said.
“Yeah. They’ll use the military instead of a bunch of idiots like us,” the human nav officer, Raymonde Laroche commented, “There’s too few of us to do this job! We oughta stay out of this…”
“Shush!”
“...So far, Combine military forces have been unable to break through. They report their forces are split due to other crises in their territory. United Nations forces have offered their aid, but the Galactic Alliance asserts that they must follow proper galactic protocol.”
“They won’t do anything about it.” Bates glanced at the dark seemingly-cloaked figure beside her. He was midnight blue, with eyes like emeralds. The Gorashni stood about equal to humans, and this one was average height.
“Never say never, Nebula,” Bates said. She offered sympathetic smiles to the other Gorashni on her crew. Nebula was a guide from the Gorashni, and the others were experienced hands. Their people had more experience in this sector of space.
“... Today, the UN voiced the Galactic Alliance's response on the Sector 957 issue.*” The newsreader spoke tonelessly, like any other reporter throughout history, “*'Do not proceed. Allow them to take what they wish, and they will go no further. Further action will only inflame them'."
The aliens in the bar sagged, but looked resigned. The bartender swore. A human man punched a table. “What the fuck?!” Someone shouted.
Bates slammed her drink down. “What? After all this? We’re just gonna leave them out to dry?”
“You don’t pay the danegeld!” Banning snapped, “We can’t leave them to die!”
Laroche shot to her feet, "Let’s go! We’ll do this even if we have to do it alone!”
Bates nodded, “Everyone up! Let’s get moving!”
The Gorashni were practically dragged along as the party paid their bills, and moved to their ship, the Matthew Henson. It was a Gagarin-class Exploratory Freighter. As they walked up the docking arm to her bow, Bates couldn't help but be amused by the long and fat silhouette. The Henson always looked like a submarine with a life preserver. Especially when she's got a full cargo load, she thought.
"Skipper, with all due respect... you don't have to do this," said a voice behind her.
She turned to face Nebula, "Huh?” Bates asked, “For the millionth time, of course we do! We're your friends!"
He straightened up. His "cloak" partially unfurled: the cloth was made up partly of his moth wings seamlessly integrated into the arrangement...
"But captain... what if we start a war?” His gravelly voice was almost meek.
Bates stood there. She wasn’t physically imposing for a human, but she had a presence like nothing on the station. “Then it’ll be war. But that’s what happens, Neb.”
Nebula frowned. “But, Captain… we can’t let that happen. It shouldn’t happen! Millions could die!”
“No, it shouldn’t. But you know what shouldn't happen?” She pointed to the stars, “Children starving to death because some jackasses a hundred lightyears away couldn’t be bothered to stop some goddamn pirates! The feds won't do anything? We'll do it ourselves!"
Nebula looked at the ship. It was more heavily armed than most merchant ships, and with a powerful engine for speed and bulk. It was designed to be able to defend itself and large cargoes on long patrols, for a nation that had to choose between ships for guns or for butter. Yet he knew even Matthew Henson was no match for the blockade. “We don’t know that. Your United Nations hasn’t made a decision yet!”
Bates looked at her ship, “I know the odds. But your colonists can’t wait that long. We *have* to do this, Neb!”
“Then why–?”
She shook her head, “You don’t let bullies push you around, Nebula. You don’t pay the danegeld, you don’t let a bully push you around…” She stepped closer, “And you don’t let your friends get hurt and refuse to stand up for them!”
Nebula’s emerald eyes widened. He unfurled his wings in surprise, revealing his insectoid body. “But skipper, surely peace is an acceptable alternative to total war!”
“Sometimes peace is another word for surrender,” Bates growled, and walked to the gangway.
“Skipper!” Nebula chased her through the tube onto the ship.
Banning handed her a tablet, which she checked off. “The last of the supplies have been loaded. Including the special stuff.”
“Great,” Bates said, and handed it over, “Get us underway.”
“Skipper, what do you mean, peace is another word for surrender? War is terrible, we can’t do this!”
Bates entered the elevator to the bridge, holding it open for the Gorashni. “What kind of friends would we be if we stood by and let this happen?” She demanded, “I’m not going to let this happen without a fight!”
“But war–”
Bates looked at him. She studied the emerald eyes, “It’s a consequence. It’s to be avoided, but it is a matter of last resort. It’s not fun. It’s not good. But it’s better than the alternative.”
“Peace?” Nebula stuttered in confusion.
“Surrender.” Her face softened, “Neb, peace isn’t bad. The problem is when it comes at the cost of your morals, of your ideas. What is the civilization you’re defending worth if you give up everything about it to survive? You don’t bend over to maintain the peace. There’s only so far you should be willing to flex. Sometimes it’s necessary to fight. You don’t compromise with bullies, and you don’t throw your friends under the bus.” She shook her head, “Friendship matters a lot to us, Neb. We won’t let your people suffer like this.”
Neb frowned, “But… you’d do this for us?” His cloak and his wings flapped for emphasis. “Us?”
“You’re friends, Neb. Of course we would.” Bates stepped out onto her bridge. "If anyone doesn't want to go with us, now is the time to leave." A few left. But most stayed. The skipper wouldn't do this alone. Bates nodded, "All ahead full."
Nebula was quiet.
The Matthew Henson jumped in between the colony’s moon and the surface, in an asteroid ring between the planet and the moon. The long spindly ship stood out in the dark, a grey pencil with a thick bow. The asteroids would scramble radar returns. Alarms blared. “Enemy ships detected! All around us!” Neb reported.
“The Navy’s detected us, they’re ordering us to turn back!” the comms officer exclaimed.
Bates barked, “Full acceleration! Drop the thermal drones!" She grinned, "Black market will miss these babies!"
Their displays lit up with contacts all around them. "Enemy ships detected! Five thousand kilometers and closing!" Nebula reported.
"Distance to the surface?"
"Fifty thousand klicks!" said Laroche.
Bates nodded. “All ahead full! Begin the maneuver!”
The ship streaked out of the belt at an angle. They burned backward with their fusion rockets and pulled their periapsis down to low orbit. A dozen bright red triangles pursued them on their sensor displays. Yellow indicators showed the decoys. Grey flashes appeared around the red triangles. “Eight thousand kilometers! Missile launches detected!” Nebula cried.
“Countermeasures!” Bates ordered. Still Matthew Henson drove on.
Nebula looked at Bates, yet did so. Flares, smoke pods, even old-fashioned chaff blew from the ship’s hull, and from the decoys. In minutes, the missiles entered into a duel. Lasers on the decoys fired at the projectiles. Some fired their own counter-missiles. Bates grinned, “High end decoys, motherfuckers! Don’t mess with us!”
The ship screamed down toward the surface. The enemy fought to catch up with them, clawing for space and velocity. Yellow decoys winked out, their laser batteries and missiles depleted. Henson’s guns added their fury to the fusilade. White pods cracked open on the ship’s hull and spun. Great telescopes that could shoot death from their lenses. They charged with energy, and fixed on the enemy projectiles. A warhead began to smolder, a cloud of debris blew away, before the nose cone melted and the explosive detonated.
“Second force inbound around the curve of the planet! Twenty-five thousand kilometers!” Neb exclaimed.
Bates saw them on the map. Her eyes widened. “They’re in our path… countermeasures! Decoys!”
“Copy that!” Banning replied.
The enemy’s missiles came up from the gravity well. The spindly ship was caught between two forces of triangles. Still Matthew Henson drove on. She shook as missiles detonated in close range.
“Missiles, lasers, decoys, give me everything you’ve got!” Railgun slugs ripped into the path of the missiles. Cheap and obsolete missiles launched from the decoys and from the mothership. Explosives blew packages of metal shrapnel across the path of the enemy projectiles.
“Pour it on! Don’t hold anything back!” Bates shouted.
“Energy range! They’re locking on…firing!” Nebula reported.
The ship shook with a strike. “Hull breach on the fore starboard deck! Rerouting coolant!” Banning said.
“Do whatever you have to! I don’t give a damn if the engine melts!” Bates snapped.
“But how will we get back–”
“Neb, shut up and do your job!”
Lasers flashed and railguns blasted away. “Prioritize close-range defense! We don’t need to take them down, we gotta protect the cargo!” Bates ordered. She could see the exterior cameras flash as the defense cannons took down huge chunks of debris, bullets, and missiles. Still Matthew Henson drove on.
A lucky shot got in close. The ship shuddered and the bridge heaved. There was a flash and sparks arced from a corner of the deck. Crew were thrown about. Banning swore, “Secure yourselves! Someone get that fire out!”
“Enemy ships in main gun range! Firing!”
Bates stayed in her seat, “Hang in there! Get us closer!”
“We can’t take much more of this!” Nebula cried.
Bates’ eyes flicked to their orbital track. The periapsis was where they needed it to be. If they burned any harder they wouldn’t be able to… “Alright, plan B, folks! We’re gonna pass under the enemy at high speed!”
Laroche paled, “Plan B?! Aw, shit–” She was cut off. There was another strike. Debris ripped across the bridge. Nebula flinched back as shrapnel tore through where his head had been, and clipped one of his wings. Bates ducked. And a huge chunk of metal hit Laroche in the throat.
Nebula looked up to see her slumped back in her chair, her eyes wide open. He looked at Bates. But there was no regret in her face. Only anger.
Banning unstrapped himself and rushed to the nav officer’s position. He unstrapped Laroche and got back into the seat. “Initiating plan B!” The ship’s engines engaged again. The periapsis dipped even lower, down to the surface into the planet’s atmosphere.
“Cargo bay, you still alive down there?” Bates barked.
“Cargo bay here!”
“Plan B! Plan B! Get ready!”
Nebula swore oaths his mother would have gasped at. He counted up the icons appearing on his displays. “We’ve got another wing of enemy ships… another… another!”
“Doesn’t matter! Keep going!” Bates shouted.
Nebula looked at her again. “Captain–”
The ship shook again. Most of the deck officer’s head splattered across Nebula and Bates. Nebula looked at the brains and bones across his console. His hands were shaking. He realizd someone was shouting his name. “Neb!”
Nebula turned to look at her, “...Captain?”
“Damn it,” Bates, covered in more debris, bits of shrapnel in her face, and covered in the deck officer’s blood, stood up and pulled him from the wreckage. “Setting the guns to automatic!”
Nebula looked at his sensors, partially obscured by blood. He could see more wings approaching. He could see the planet… *the planet*.
Still Matthew Henson drove on. They were past the enemy wing. Nebula felt a feeling in his gut. He looked at Bates and Banning. Neither looked regretful, they were still doing this job. Why? After losing so much?
He looked at the body parts still in front of him. Neb stood up and grabbed Bates’ shoulder, “Captain, I’ll do it!”
Bates looked at him. As she stood up, he realized she had shrapnel in her arm and what looked like a chunk of skull in her thigh. “You good?”
“As good as I can be,” Nebula coughed.
The ship shuddered and drove onward. The bridge was trashed. “We’re approaching the atmosphere!” The XO said.
“Plan B?”
Nebula wiped off more bone fragments and found the appropriate commands, “Preparing Plan B!”
The exterior cameras showed the ship extending a series of fins and radiators. Even as they did, several were shredded by enemy fire.
Still Matthew Henson drove on. The ship was perforated, it looked like it was made of swiss cheese. It entered the upper atmosphere. Kinetic energy dissipated into heat, the ship’s velocity slowed as atmospheric drag caught it and tried to pull it down.
“Aerobraking successful! Initiating plan B!”
A cargo hatch opened on their cameras. Big conical packages spilled out one by one in rapid succession, falling far behind and down into the atmosphere. “Drop fifty percent complete…”
They were hit again. “Main coolant tanks hit! Rerouting secondary systems!”
“Do what you have to!” Bates shouted, “We’re almost done!”
Green lights flashed on Nebula’s console. The camera showed one last package fall from the bay door before it was blown off. “Drop complete! We’re good!”
“Pull up! Get us out of here!” Bates roared.
Nebula’s emerald eyes widened, “They’re targeting the cargo pods!”
“Do what you can! We don’t need to protect the cargo bay anymore!”
Outside the ship, the guns let more and more shrapnel in as they engaged the missiles headed for the packages.
Henson’s temperature was heating up. Just as they cleared out of the atmosphere, Banning swore, “We’ve only got enough juice for a few minutes! We can’t clear the blockade!”
“*This is the reactor room! We’ve got steam venting in–!*” The comlink was washed with static.
“Lasers are running hot! We need to reset them!” Nebula shouted.
Bates panted heavily. She sat back in her seat. She looked at the displays. Far, far below and behind them, the surviving cargo capsules unfurled parachutes. She sighed with relief. She looked around at the Matthew Henson bridge. She, Banning, and Nebula were the only survivors on the bridge. “We’ve done our job, fellas.”
Nebula blinked. He looked at Banning. The man sighed, and sat back. Nebula shot to his feet. He rushed over and hit Bates’ comlink, “This is the bridge. All personnel abandon ship!” He grabbed Bates by the arm and hauled her up, “Come on!”
Banning came over, hesitated, then helped, “Let’s go!”
“The hell are you doing?” Bates demanded.
“Friends don’t let friends die!” Nebula barked, “Come *on*!”
The three stumbled through the bridge door. They rushed for a green hatch. They climbed inside a small compartment with three seats. Bates screamed as they shifted her injured wounds and made room for each other. Nebula closed the hatch, strapped himself in, and hit the emergency systems.
The recovery module blasted out of an alcove on the ship. Other modules launched with them. It rocketed downward. “Shit, they’re firing!” Banning snarled.
“Decoys!” Bates barked. She groaned with pain.
Lasers burned through some of the other modules. A few were empty. Nebula hoped those were the only ones hit. There was no need to pilot the capsule, it was automated with an ancient computer system. All three just sat there, as the air buffeted the small module, and the lasers tried to hit them.
Within minutes, parachutes rippled. By that point, they’d managed to get Bates some painkillers. Nebula realized he and Banning were injured too. As they tried to treat their scratches and shrapnel, Nebula looked at Bates, “Was it worth it? All this?”
Bates looked at him. “You tell me.”
Within hours, they were landed, and the survivors of Matthew Henson were quickly rescued from their capsules by the colony’s militia. They gathered in a cave, hidden from orbital scanners. The Gorashni colonists broke open one of their cargo containers and looked at the colonists with pride and gratitude. “We thank you for these supplies,” Their commanding officer said.
“It’s not much, but it’ll buy you some time,” Bates said, bandaged and propped up on a bed.
The officer nodded, “Thank you.” He looked at Nebula. He tilted his head, and he and Nebula stepped away from the humans. “Did you and the others put them up to this, mister?” He asked politely.
Nebula shook his head. He grinned nervously, “As a matter of fact… I tried to talk them out of it.”
The officer peered at him, then chuckled. “Ah, you haven’t worked with humans for very long, have you?”
“No, sir.”
A Gorashni youngster ran into the cave carrying a computer tablet, “Hey, we got the relay working!” *Henson’s* crew staggered up, and crowded around.
The screen was snowy and cracked, from damage to the device, “...the Galactic Alliance has been in an uproar from the actions of the freighterMatthew Henson. They believed the UN intentionally exacerbated tensions in the galaxy. The secretary general of the UN responded that ‘while we cannot condone the actions of private citizens, we cannot condemn them for doing the right thing for a starving population’.”
There were cheers among the crew, “Hell yeah!”
“Serves them right!” Someone thumped Bates on the back.
“Shush! Quiet!”
“...the Galactic Alliance has since changed their position. They assert that the United Nations must ‘use any means necessary to stop any and all further provocative activities'. Demonstrators in cities across Earth and the colonies are protesting this and demanding action.”
Nebula started at the collective “What?” from the crew.
“...In response, the United Nations declared war on the Vang Imperium. Military forces have been dispatched to liberate the colony in Sector 957. The Gorash Combine has since also declared war, the first formal declaration of war by a Galactic Alliance member in more than a century.”
The room went quiet. “War?” Nebula squeaked.
“Sometimes peace is another word for surrender, Neb,” Bates said quietly. “And you don’t pay the danegeld. You don’t let people push you around, and you don’t let friends get pushed around.”
Nebula looked around at the crew. They sat close to their Gorashni friends. On the viewscreen, they discussed the vigils and demonstrations for the crew of *Matthew Henson*, and for the colonists of Sector 957. Whole worlds were in an uproar for the destruction of the ship. They played footage from long-range scanners, showing the Vang shooting at the cargo and escape pods. There were interviews with family members, and discussion of the brave heroes who sacrificed their ship to get aid to others.
“All this… for us?” Nebula breathed.
“You don’t let your friends get hurt, Neb,” Bates murmured.