Starship Gods Ch. 01

Starship Gods

By Gary L.M. Martin

Forward: The Court Martial

"What does God need with a starship?"

The prosecutor, Lieutenant Commander Julia Fuller, let the question hang in the air for a moment. Then she said, "Did anyone on PR-52981 ever ask you that?"

Survey Service Lieutenant Michael Taylor coughed nervously. "No ma'am. In fact, their prophesy suggested that their god, their gods, would arrive on a fiery silver chariot."

"Which you led them to believe was the USS Asgard," said Lieutenant Commander Fuller.

"Yes ma'am," said Taylor.

"As you also led the natives of PR-52981 to believe that you and the survivors of the Asgard were gods," said Fuller.

"Well... yes ma'am... but... very reluctantly," said Taylor again.

"Very reluctantly," said Fuller, glaring at him. "And then you proceeded to.. very reluctantly impersonate their deities, and rule over them like gods. Is that correct, Lieutenant Taylor?"

"Well, in a way... Commander," said Taylor, biting his lip.

"In a way? Did you or did you not impersonate their deities on PR-52981?"

"I... I suppose I did. We all did," said Taylor.

"You are the one on trial, Lieutenant," said Fuller sharply. "You ordered the population to obey your every command, did you not, Lieutenant?"

"I did," Taylor said.

"You ordered them to turn over their wealth to you, did you not?"

"Well, we did initiate a modest revenue enhancement program-"

"A yes or no, Lieutenant."

"Well, that would be yes, then," said Taylor.

"You ordered them to worship you, did you not?"

"Well, no... not ordered," said Taylor.

"What then?" Fuller asked. "Did you, while impersonating their gods, merely suggest they worship you?"

"I never really asked for it," said Taylor. "It was more... implied. You might say it came with the job."

There was muffled laughter in the courtroom.

Fuller gave Taylor a skeptical look. "You exercised absolute authority over the native population, did you not?"

"I... I guess I did," said Taylor reluctantly.

"You even, using this authority, ordered native women to service you in ways that violated Section 293.4 of the United Survey Service Code of Conduct."

Commander Fuller glared at Taylor. Taylor was studiously silent.

"We're waiting for your answer, Lieutenant Taylor."

"Oh, was that a question? I'm sorry, Commander," said Taylor, sweating profusely. He, paused, licking his lips. "Can you repeat the question again?"

Fuller's eyes flared. "Lastly, and most seriously, is it true that when the population rebelled against your rule, you purposefully flew the USS Asgard low over the population, fired up the thrusters, and burned thousands of people to their deaths?"

Taylor bit his lip, but said nothing.

Fuller said, "Your Honor, the witness is refusing to answer the question."

"Lieutenant Taylor, you will answer the question," said the military judge sternly.

Taylor paused, looking at the audience, and then at the jury. "Yes," he whispered.

There was more than one gasp from the crowd.

"How many thousands did you kill, Lieutenant? Five thousand? Ten thousand? More?"

"I don't know," said Taylor, in a small voice. "I was not able to count them."

"Well, could it have been five thousand?"

"Yes."

"Could it have been ten thousand?"

"Yes."

"Possibly more than ten thousand?"

Taylor paused. "Possibly."

There was a gasp from the audience again.

Commander Fuller to turned to the military tribunal. "Your honors, it is clear that Lieutenant Michael Taylor broke numerous Codes of Regulations regarding contact with less developed civilizations. He has admitted to the most serious crime, of mass genocide against an entire culture. Given the extreme nature of his violations, I ask you to impose the most severe penalty." And she glared at Taylor as she said it. "Death."

Taylor felt like he was going to faint. How had he landed in this situation? It seemed, every step of the way, that he had had no choice. He had been forced into it. If only they knew the true story, of what really happened that year on PR-52981....

Chapter 1: The Stellar Ribbon

Fifteen Months Earlier

Michael Taylor wasn't happy.

After two years serving as an Ensign in the United Survey Service, he had been promoted to Lieutenant. It had been right after the skirmish with the Rissican pirates. Captain Carillies had been impressed with his performance in the heat of combat, and written him up for a commendation. That recommendation, combined with his past service, had earned him a promotion.

But the USS Tangio didn't need another Lieutenant. So Taylor was transferred to the USS Asgard.

A merchant ship.

The United Survey Service was a little bit of everything:

1) It was a military force.

2) It was also an exploratory and mapping service, as the name suggested.

3) And it was also a search and rescue service.

4) But it also was a cargo hauling service.

As one of its secondary functions, the Survey Service hauled cargoes, especially through less travelled routes which traditional shippers didn't find economical to service. The Service operated a small merchant marine fleet, and one of those ships was the Asgard.

The USS Asgard wasn't a happy ship. Captain Cargon was near the end of his Survey Service career. He had been repeatedly passed up for appointments to military and explorer class ships. He was whittling away his remaining years to retirement on cargo runs, and he didn't enjoy it.

Neither did Lieutenant Taylor, for the same reasons. He hadn't joined the Survey Service to haul produce over light years. It would seem, then, given their similar attitudes, that Lieutenant Taylor and his new captain would get along well.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. Cargon immediately sensed that his new Lieutenant wasn't happy about his new assignment, but rather than sympathizing with the young officer, felt antagonism towards him.

When Taylor first arrived on the Asgard and reported to the Captain, Cargon didn't even bother to meet Taylor in private. He spoke to him while running ship operations on the bridge.

"Chief, what's going on?" said Cargon, speaking on the comm. "We were supposed to get out of spacedock six hours ago."

"The replacement parts just came in an hour ago. And we barely got half of what we needed," came the voice over the comm.

"I don't want excuses, Chief," said Cargon sharply. Suddenly, he noticed Taylor, who, having just arrived on the bridge, waited patiently to get his new Captain's attention.

"You the new guy?"

The new guy? What Survey Service officer spoke like that?

Taylor nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Cargon cut him off. "Just one moment, you." He turned back to his comm. "Chief, look out a window. What do you see?"

"I see Space Station Victor," said the Chief.

"And what do you think people on the space station see when they look out their own windows?"

"....us, sir?"

"Good Chief! And what do I tell them when they ask why we're still here?" Cargon asked.

"I'm working as fast as I can, sir," came the voice of the Chief.

"Work faster," said Cargon, slamming the comm shut.

His comm officer tried to get his attention. "I don't want to hear it," said Cargon. "You, the new guy. Is this how you report to your new posting?"

Taylor, immediately on the defensive, wondered what he had done wrong. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off again.

"Sailor, right?"

"Taylor, sir," said Taylor, finally managing to get a word in.

"Close enough," said Cargon. "We have a spare station in the corner. You can use that to access the computer library. Think you can handle that?"

Handle that? It sounded like he was being given a post with no duties. Taylor opened his mouth to speak again, but this time was cut off by the comm officer.

"Sir, I really think-"

"I don't pay you to think," Cargon snapped.

"But it's Admiral Menendez!" said the comm officer. "He wants to know why we haven't gotten underway."

Cargon looked at the ceiling and tried to restrain himself. They were supposed to have launched six hours ago on a routine cargo run to Ramada, delivering some agricultural equipment and then bringing some produce back to Space Station Victor. He turned to the comm officer and said, "Tell Jose to get off my back. Tell him he'll get his chili peppers on time."

"Really, sir?" the comm officer asked.

"Of course not! Are you a complete fool?" said Cargon. "Tell him we're getting under way now!" He pressed a button. "Chief, can this tub move?"

"I wouldn't recommend it, Captain," came the Chief's voice.

"Will the ship explode if we start to move?" Cargon asked, speaking very slowly, as if to a child.

"Well, no, but-"

"That's all I want to know," said Cargon. He made eye contact with the navigator. "Take us out. Now."

Cargon suddenly noticed Taylor again. "Why are you still standing there? Get to your post, mister!"

The ship shuddered as it slowly began to move.

The Asgard was not a happy ship.

********

Cargon, while the Captain of the Asgard, technically was of the rank of Commander, but as the commanding officer of a spacefaring ship, he was referred to as Captain. His first officer was Lieutenant Commander Boyega, and beneath him was Lieutenant Baylis, the Chief Engineer, and the navigator, Lieutenant Davis. The crew consisted of five officers (including Taylor) and fourteen crewmen.

But the ship also carried passengers. While the Asgard was not a liner, it went to obscure places like Ramada which didn't get a lot of ship traffic. People booked passage on Survey Service ships if they needed to get to places where no one else went.

Taylor met some of the passengers at dinner. There was Naomi Weinberg and Pamela Bloomberg, two friends from college who were going on vacation to Ramada. There were a trio of friends in their 30's, Brianna Lindsay, Kyrsten Hymen, and McKenzie Risella, who were also traveling there for the same reason. A very attractive woman named Alexis Herman also claimed to be going to Ramada for tourism, though she didn't look anything like a tourist. Then there was Khalid, Ahmed, and Chaka, brothers from Ramada who were returning home. Tara McCallister was an agro scientist who was going to study soil conditions on La Honda, making a ship to ship connection at Ramada. Father Edvard Sanduval and his daughter Kristiana were also catching a connecting flight at Ramada, one which would take them home to New Scandia. Then there was an older black man named Samuel Thomas, a galaxy renown philosopher, who was just along for the ride. And lastly was an interesting pair, Liam Parnell, and a woman in a Marshal's uniform, Miranda Sorensen.

"Careful," said Liam, as Taylor sat down next to him. He held up his hands, and Taylor saw he was wearing electrocuffs. "I'm a serial killer," said Liam. "You're taking a big risk sitting next to me, mister."

Taylor didn't quite know what to make of the silver haired Liam with his exaggerated facial expressions, or the cuffs he wore. He looked at Miranda Sorenson, the Marshal, and she rolled her eyes.

"All right," she said, gesturing for Liam to raise his hands.

Liam obeyed, raising the binders high, and Miranda pressed a button on her belt, and the cuffs snapped open. "Thank you," said Liam, taking them off and rubbing his wrists.

Taylor still looked hesitantly at the man sitting just inches away from him. "Is he really-"

"Yes, a serial killer," said Liam. "I've murdered dozens of people. I've raped even more. I've committed genocide on a planetary scale. I'm the most wanted man on-"

"Enough," said Miranda wearily. "Liam, I told you I had to keep the cuffs on you until we left the station. If you promise to behave, I'll leave you unfettered until we get to Ramada."

"Until we get to my execution," said Liam, rubbing his wrists.

"The Ramadans have promised not to execute you," said Miranda. "That was the condition of the extradition."

"And you believe them?" said Liam. "I'll be in an unmarked grave a day after I arrive. Do you know how they execute people?"

"What is it you've done?" Taylor asked, interrupting him.

"Nothing uncommon. Nothing loathsome. Certainly not anything that deserves death," said Liam. "I merely had the misfortune to advise people to make investments which unfortunately didn't generate the expected rate of returns, which is a risk anyone faces in the galactic marketplace."

"You sold shares in a uranium mine that didn't have any uranium," said Miranda.

"No provable reserves, admittedly. But we cannot prove the absence of uranium either," said Liam.

"You also sold shares in a company which didn't exist," said Miranda.

"A company I was told was in the process of issuing an initial public offering. I was every bit as much swindled as my clients were," said Liam.

"You sold people shares of ownership in 70 Ophiuchi D," said Miranda.

"You sold people shares of ownership... of a planet?"

"Not as odd as it sounds," said Liam. "I met a very sincere miner who assured me he had acquired all the mineral rights to the entire planet. It was worth a fortune. But unfortunately, he was slightly undercapitalized. I simply tried to help out a friend, while opening the door to lucrative returns for others."

"The Ramadans want him for 19 counts of fraud."

"Punishable by death. The same punishment for most crimes on Ramada, I might add," Liam added.

The Ramadans Khalid, Ahmed, and Chaka turned to give Liam an icy stare. They were big, bearded men, who looked like trouble.

"Which I'm sure in most cases is entirely justified," Liam hastily added.

"I've heard the terrible propaganda about Ramada," said Naomi Weinberg. "It's all lies. It's a wonderful, vibrant culture. I'm going there to learn more about it."

Chaka, one of the Ramadans, gave Naomi a furtive looking over. He liked what he saw. Naomi was a young, busty 24 year old brunette.

"The Ramadans worship Laquinta, the God of Blood," said a new voice. They turned to see Samuel Thomas, a black man in his late 50's or early 60's. Thomas was famous in intellectual circles. He was considered the father of modern Objective Rationalism. "They still do human sacrifices, so I hear," he said.

"Not so," said Khalid, the eldest brother, speaking for the first time. "You are misinformed. Blood sacrifices stopped over 200 years ago."

"I saw a documentary last year that still showed it going on."

Khalid waved his hand dismissively. "A few extremists. The off-planet media use them to tar our entire religion. It's a disgrace."

"A disgrace," his brother, Chaka, agreed, speaking in an equally deep voice.

Naomi looked up at Chaka and smiled.

"Well, gentlemen, we'll get to Ramada in nine days, and then you can see for yourself," said Captain Cargon.

"Nine days?" said McKenzie Risella. "I thought we were getting there in six!"

"Yes, well, we're having some mechanical difficulties with the FTL drive," said Cargon.

"We were promised delivery in six," said McKenzie stubbornly.

"Unfortunately, the Asgard is not a ship of the line," said Cargon, staring intently at his glass of wine. "It's a broken down transport which should have been retired years ago. But merchant ships aren't exactly the highest priority in the Survey Service. Are they, Lieutenant Taylor?"

Taylor looked startled. It felt like Cargon knew he was unhappy to be aboard, and he resented Taylor's resentment. Taylor simply shrugged his shoulders.

"A most judicious non-answer, Lieutenant," said Cargon, pausing to take a drink of his wine. "You'll make a fine senior officer some day. Unfortunately, not on a military or explorer class vessel. No, once you get sent to the merchant service, you're stuck there for life, like a fly stuck in a sticky trap. You didn't know that, did you, Lieutenant? How does that make you feel?"

Taylor noticed that Cargon seemed more than a little inebriated.

"I'm happy to serve the Service, Captain," he said cautiously.

"Spoken like a newly minted Lieutenant," said Cargon, raising his glass to toast Taylor. "But how will you feel when you're a Lieutenant on this rust bucket for a year, two years, five years, and then more? Maybe you won't be quite so diplomatic then."

Taylor excused himself, to Cargon's laughter. He felt unsettled, possibly as Cargon had intended.

Outside the mess hall he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was the Chief.

"Don't let him get to you," said Lieutenant Baylis. "He's a bitter old man. You've got your whole career ahead of you."

"Thanks," said Taylor.

Another day passed. Taylor found himself restless in his duties. To be blunt, he had no duties to perform of any kind. Cargon kept him slightly busy performing diagnostics on ships' systems, but Taylor could tell that it was just makework. The ship didn't really need another Lieutenant. It was as if, once promoted to Lieutenant, the Service had no place to put him, so it stuck him here.

It was a discouraging thought.

The next night at dinner, Taylor found himself sandwiched between two women, Tara McCallister and Alexis Herman. Tara was an agro scientist on her way to the farming settlement on La Honda, by way of Ramada. She was a serious looking blonde woman in her 30's. Alexis was a school teacher on her way to take a teaching job in Ramada, which made absolutely no sense to him.

For one thing, Alexis was much too pretty to be an ordinary schoolteacher. She was a vibrant redhead, with very flirty eyes and a prominent bosom. And even Taylor knew that outsiders were not hired to teach on Ramada. The Ramadans were too afraid of cultural contamination. Taylor wondered what her real reason for going to Ramada was. Well, it was her own business.

"So, I hear you're a brand new Lieutenant," said Alexis. She smiled at him. "That must be very exciting. To be young, full of energy and eagerness, ready to explore the unknown."

The way she smiled slyly at Taylor made him wonder if she was talking about space exploration, or exploration of another kind. He reddened and suddenly remembered his girlfriend Jessica, back on Earth. She hadn't been thrilled when he had been posted to the Asgard. The ship's outer rim runs wouldn't allow him to get back to Earth very often. Taylor and Jessica hadn't exactly broken up, but the status of their relationship wasn't at all clear.

But Taylor, who still had feelings for Jessica, didn't consider himself single. And as he felt Alexis's foot cautiously probe his right leg, and she smiled as she saw he noticed it, he knew he couldn't deliver what she was looking for.

As he saw her sly grin and felt her caressing his leg, it seemed to him that her story that she was going to be a simple school teacher on Ramada seemed even more farfetched than ever.

On the other side of him, Tara McCallister, the serious looking agro scientist, said, "There must be a lot of responsibility, being an officer in the United Survey Service." Taylor thought he saw a level of interest in her eyes as well, but her look was different than Alexis's; less predatory. Less hungry.

"Yes, well, there's still a lot I have to learn," said Taylor, half thinking about his leg which was still being stroked.

"I'm sure you're a quick study, dear," said Alexis, smiling slyly at him.

Taylor excused himself early from dinner that night.

********

The voyage continued. Chief Baylis couldn't manage to complete repairs on the engines. Both housings covering the giant battery turbines in Engineering were open, as the generators were constantly being tinkered on. Baylis explained his problems to the Captain.