Science Fiction December 2020 title prompt.

Story word count = 1607

*****  Second Place Winner  *****

The choices we make define our life-path. Destiny was merely the convergence of decision and circumstance.

Spending quality time in the brig gave me a chance to reflect. I regret what landed me here. Not doing it, just the part about getting caught.

My cell was small, drab gray, and incredibly boring, but as far as prisons go, it wasn't too bad. I wish, though, that they would turn down the light when I tried to sleep.

The tiniest of directional errors, leveraged over a journey of several light-years, would cause a starship to miss its target by billions of kilometers. Somehow, they figured out I hacked a bias into the navigation code. It wouldn't have hurt anyone, but it would have saved billions of alien lives. But since we are at war with these aliens, my action was particularly upsetting to the military command.

A guard slid open the narrow slot in the cell door and peered at me, his narrowed eyes shooting contempt. I supposed to him I was a traitor. The door jerked open with a scrape and a squeal. He motioned me up. I knew the procedure, holding my hands out for the handcuffs. Another guard stood outside with a long shock-stick in hand, just in case. I can say from personal experience that those things were quite unpleasant.

They led me down a brightly lit hallway on a path I knew too well. The interrogation room utilized the same interior decoration scheme as my cell, but was a bit bigger. Two chairs and a small table made up the only furnishings. I caught my reflection in the wall mirror and would have smoothed my ruffled hair if not for the handcuffs. A tall slim woman with short graying hair wearing a blue officer's uniform stood facing away from me, her hands clasped behind her back.

She said in an even voice, "Remove the restraints and leave us."

This was new.

The guards complied without saying a word.

She turned. Her identity took my breath away. "Admiral Garin. To what do I owe this honor, ma'am?"

Steel-blue eyes bore through me. "There is no honor here for you, Lieutenant Welde. Sit down."

Admiral Garin was one of those people who could silence an angry crowd with her mere presence. She had a reputation for being tough, but fair, earning the respect of those under her command. I had no idea why she sat across from me now.

She leaned forward, putting her forearms on the table. "I am pleased to inform you that Mjölnir will strike its blow, despite your attempted sabotage."

Operation Mjölnir, named after Thor's mythical hammer, was intended to deal a decisive and final blow to the Umoanjah Useshen, thus ending the war. The hammer consisted of a rocky planetoid plucked from interstellar space and outfitted with fusion thrusters. Not just any thrusters, mind you, but the largest ever constructed by several orders of magnitude. Accelerated to relativistic velocity, it would smash into the alien's home star, destabilizing it. The resulting flares and plasma ejections would incinerate everything in the solar system, including the entire alien species.

Most of my fellow soldiers in the Spaceforce could hardly pronounce the alien species' name, instead calling them 'bugs'. No doubt their six appendages and graphite-gray exoskeletons inspired that description. Two large black eyes set in a long smooth face and a small mandible-like mouth completed the look. They stood upright on two legs, almost as high as me, but had four arms. Their bottom arm pair featured a jagged ridge line along the forearm, like a serrated knife edge, that was as dangerous as it looked. I fought these aliens up close and knew this from personal experience.

I asked, "May I speak freely, Admiral?"

She nodded. "This conversation is just between the two of us. It will not be recorded or witnessed."

My eyes narrowed. "Why, Admiral?"

"Why what?"

I raised my voice. "You know the rules of engagement, Admiral. We don't target non-combatants, and we only take actions that are militarily necessary. Why did we abandon our principles?"

Her eyes burned through me. "I don't need you to lecture me on the morality of war, Lieutenant! This situation is different. Every alien is indeed a combatant."

I gritted my teeth as a hot anger rose from my core. Only the worst of tyrants believed this, using it as justification for all manner of atrocity.

Before my rage spilled out, she held up a hand. "Let me explain. Those aliens above a certain age are fitted with some sort of artificial implant that allows them to act as a collective. We don't know what the command structure is, but each individual can and will participate in a battle." She took a deep breath. "The situation is more dire than most know. The Umoanjah Useshen are building a huge fleet, more than enough to wipe us out. And they make no distinction between combatant and non-combatant." Her eyes regained their intensity. "The justification for the operation is simple. Survival."

The Admiral was right about one thing: the aliens were brutal in battle, targeting every human they encountered and taking no prisoners. More than one Federation world suffered their attack. Humanity's first encounter with a space-faring alien race became a disaster of the highest order. It seemed surprising, though, that she did not refer to them by the derogatory term 'bugs' like everyone else.

I shook my head. "I have no love for the aliens, Admiral, but Operation Mjölnir is pure genocide. We were supposed to be better than that. I am surprised the Federation Council agreed to this action." Her eyes froze and widened slightly, an unusual tell from such a sure woman. I gasped. "Oh, my God! They don't know about it, do they?"

With downturned head, she replied, "It was necessary. If we waited on the Council's bureaucratic ineptitude, the opportunity would be lost, and so would humanity. If all goes as planned, the star instability will appear to be a rare, but natural event. An act of God, some will call it."

While humanity focused on spreading across the stars, the Umoanjah Useshen did not, instead putting their efforts into construction of a Dyson-ring in their home solar system. The habitable ring, a truly monumental piece of engineering, completely encircled their sun. Unknowingly, that choice set them up for annihilation. The star was a red dwarf type, susceptible to a kinetic strike like Mjölnir.

Why was the Admiral explaining all this to me? A sudden chill swept through my core as a realization took hold. "There will be no court marshal for me, will there."

She shook her head and spoke in an even voice. "No, Lieutenant. That might jeopardize the operation, and even the Spaceforce itself."

A dark fatalism spread across my mind. "So what happens to me? Will I be killed while trying to escape? The starship version of walking the plank?"

Unexpectedly, her eyes softened. "Nothing so dramatic."

"Admiral, why are you really here?"

Her eyes met mine. "I come to offer you another choice, Lieutenant, a task that I can entrust to no one else."

*****

The preprogrammed course led me here, a lonely outpost orbiting a large rocky asteroid in some unnamed solar system. The rotating torus shape of the research station provided artificial gravity. I docked along the central hub and made my way through dim passageways to an auditorium-like area. Open plastic boxes laid in orderly rows along one side, like beds in an orphanage.

Dozens of round dark eyes gazed up at me, ones still innocent, not yet corrupted by the implants. Faint squeals and clicking noises rose from the group. The Umoanjah Useshen younglings, standing barely knee high, gathered around me like ducklings imprinting to an adoptive parent.

I had misjudged Admiral Garin. My 'escape' and subsequent disappearance will likely cost her career. And if the Spaceforce ever discovered the extent of this scheme, likely her freedom as well. Choices, even moral ones, have consequences.

A young dark-haired woman wearing a white lab coat came up to me. She approached slowly, but without hesitation. "Who are you?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"I am Avin Welde. Admiral Garin sent me. Are there others here?"

"No. They all left as ordered. I stayed behind to care for the brood." She let out a held breath as if relieved that I was here. "My name is Cora Murr. I am an exobiologist and in charge of this research station. Did the Admiral brief you?"

I nodded. "Yes. We don't have much time. Gather the little ones and everything else you will need for our journey. In about twenty hours a Federation Warship will arrive to destroy this outpost and erase all evidence of its existence."

A new home awaited us, a secret planet suitable for both our species, its existence purged from the Federation database. There, the Umoanjah Useshen may begin anew, unencumbered with the collective bondage, as they should be. The outfitted starship that I had 'stolen', with the help of the Admiral, will take us there. I took a moment to reflect on the extraordinary events that led me on this path, all starting with a pivotal choice.

The Admiral was right. She needed someone with deep space navigational skills to complete the Umoanjay Useshen's salvation. Someone sympathetic to them. Someone who would not be missed. Someone like me.

Cora brought me out of my thoughts. "Do you have a family, Avin?"

I shook my head, smiling. "No."

A smirk came to her face. "Well, you do now."