The Basic Truth

Violence, naked force, has settled more issues in history than has any other factor, and the contrary opinion is wishful thinking at its worst. Breeds that forget this basic truth have always paid for it with their lives and freedoms.

Standing on the bridge of the Saigon, Admiral Carmen Ibanez found herself reliving Razak's words from History & Moral Philosophy 101. A subject that no student had to pass, but every student had to take. At the age of 18, she'd soaked it in, repeating the answers that were expected of a good citizen of the Federation, especially one that the Fleet was already eyeing for her above-average scores in maths and science. Now, after eighteen years of war, at the age of 36, she found herself wondering how much of those words were from her, and how much of them were from the Federation itself. Words that filtered down to its textbooks, to her parents, to every citizen who took the oath. Words that had become increasingly hollow over the years.

"Ma'am."

She looked at Captain DeAngelo, who handed her a data pad. She took it from his hands.

"Latest readings?" she asked.

"Yep."

She looked at them – the readings of nip, nadda, and zilch. Still no sign that the bugs had entered the system.

"Thank you, captain," she said. She handed the pad back to him. "Keep me informed."

"Ma'am."

He hid his frustration well, she reflected. She'd transferred her command to the Saigon, and like any captain worth his salt, DiAngelo had clearly been bothered that his ship was no longer, well, his. He reminded Carmen of herself, she reflected. That period in her life after getting her own captaincy before realizing that no, she couldn't go wherever she pleased, and yes, there were still rungs above the ladder she had to climb before she could even dream of being "free." And given the state of the Federation now, as more and more people fled its territory into uncharted space, rather than throwing themselves into a meatgrinder of a war, freedom wasn't a concept that the Federation had much affection for right now. True, it could say it was fighting for freedom, as much as life, but now, looking out into the void of space, Carmen wondered if the people above her even believed that. Were they fighting the Arachnids for freedom? Or were they fighting because an entire generation had grown up during a time of war, and that was all they even knew? The Federation had been formed after a worldwide war, maybe a galactic war was the logical endgame.

She glanced around the bridge, glad that there wasn't a psychic onboard. Thoughts weren't treason, or so went the official line, but she couldn't be too sure. Besides, at the age of 36, she was one of the oldest people on this bridge, and in her experience, the young who volunteered for Federal service were nothing if not enthusiastic about it. The old were either dead, maimed, or sequestered away on Earth, trying to find new ways to kill bugs, and get more people to enlist to do the killing for them. She figured she was in that narrow sliver of her life between young and old – give it five more years, she'd either be on Earth, or dead.

So here's to not being dead then, she reflected, as she continued looking out into space. Out over Task Force Carter, and Planet Greengate. Here's to life, liberty, and everything else.

"Ma'am?"

She looked at DiAngelo – her junior in rank, her junior in age, her junior in everything. Juniors asked questions, and she knew that he was about to ask her something that only someone who didn't have the age or experience she did would.

"Still think the bugs are coming?"

She grunted. "They're coming."

"But how do you know?"

"Because our psychics made contact with a brain bug who's commanding an attack wave headed for Greengate."

"But the bugs could retreat, couldn't they?"

"They could," Carmen said. "But they won't. And you know why?"

He shook his head.

"Bugs don't retreat," she said. "They keep coming until they're dead, or we're dead."

"Oh."

Carmen couldn't help but laugh at the look on the boy's face, but the laugh soon faded into a scowl. "Rule of the universe," she said. "If there's a group of us, and we all die, it's a disaster. If there's a group of bugs, and they all die, then it's academic in the larger scheme of things."

"That grim, huh?"

"Oh, not really. We just make sure we don't all die, and we make sure that when we kill them, we take out the brain bugs as soon as possible." She shrugged. "Or use a Q bomb. That helps as well."

"Right," he murmured. "And that's why Black Order Two is-"

"One more word out of you, captain, and you'll be seeing nothing but black."

He lowered his head slightly. "Ma'am."

Carmen kept her gaze fixated on the plexiglass that separated her from the vacuum of space, even as DiAngelo walked away. Black Order 2. The dirty little secret that every captain in Task Force Carter knew, but wasn't to discuss – that the Saigon was equipped with a Q bomb, and that if Greengate couldn't be defended, they were to destroy the planet. The Arachnids couldn't be allowed to occupy it under any circumstances.

The planet was well named, she reflected. Green, because unlike most planets in the Arachnid Quarantine Zone, it was verdant. Earth-like, even. Greengate easily had the resources and land to be self-sustaining for any Federation outpost. Heck, even settlement, if they could entice enough civilians here. Gate, because it was a gateway into the AQZ. A place to re-supply, restock, re-attack. It was frankly a miracle that the Arachnids hadn't found it yet, stripping it of all biomass like they did every other planet they colonized. Greengate was either going to be a Federation world, or it wasn't going to exist. That was why Task Force Carter was here, plus ten battalions of Mobile Infantry situated over the planet's four major continents. That was why the Saigon was armed with a Q bomb, and dozens of ships were armed with everything from missiles, to nukes, to mass drivers, to nova cannons. The fleet here had enough firepower to destroy Greengate ten times over. Question was, how many times could they destroy the incoming Arachnid fleet, and could they even do it once?

At times, she wondered if the Arachnids, or at least their command strains, ever felt weariness. The saying Mister Razak had given them – it was a saying made with human enemies in mind. There was a limit to how long war could be sustained by a human populace, whether it be numbers, resources, or the will to fight. It hadn't been a saying conjured with a non-human foe considered, one that had access to almost limitless resources, who had no concept of morale, and whose concept of war was all or nothing. It was why there were more and more calls to find a peaceful solution with the Arachnids. It was why people like her kept her mouth shut, while entertaining such thoughts themselves. Why, in her case, she was looking backwards, not forwards. To simpler times. When she'd planned to travel the stars for a mere two years before settling back on Earth. Stay with Johnny, have kids…do everything a good citizen was meant to do outside a career in Federal service. A career that, even when she'd chosen to go all in after Jupiter, hadn't been extended to a war such as this.

So she kept waiting. Kept her silence. Kept looking at the men and women at the terminals, for any sign of real-space beaching disrupted by FTL travel. To any sign of the incoming Arachnids. Waiting for the signs of naked force supposedly solving problems as it always did.

Watching. Waiting.

Reflecting.