Inspired by The Martian, though not based on it. Basically a random little drabble, probably not going to be terribly satisfying, but in the immortal words of Peter Chimaera, I decide to write anyway.
Standing Orders
There are fundamental flaws with the secrecy of the Stargate Program, but not the ones you think. It is not the people who would like to see it destroyed that one must worry about, but rather the cream of the crop, the best of the best chosen to keep it going. The problem is not dishonourable men and women who would expose the secret for their own gain. The problem is honourable men and women forced into a decision between keeping a secret and doing the right thing. Sooner or later, someone will let their conscience make the choice.
-General Jackson Arris, shortly after being read into the Stargate Program
High above Earth, a grey object floated lazily around the L2 Lagrange point. It was hidden from sight by a so-called cloaking device, but if it was not, it would seem a tiny speck in the sky to the eight and a half billion people below. Up closer, the sharp, angular lines of a starship could be made out. On an astronomical scale, the object was not very large, at about two hundred metres long and half as wide. Even compared to terrestrial achievements, it was not terrifically large, comparable to a Trump-class supercarrier.
The Enterprise was a Daedalus-class cruiser, one of the older ships in the Tau'ri fleet. Like her half-sisters the Odyssey, Daedalus, and Apollo, it carried proudly the flag of the United States of America in addition to the symbol of the Tau'ri. Unlike her half-sisters, the Enterprise carried Navy markings, including the prominent hull number CVN-80.
Captain Travis Boone sighed as he read over a news article on his terminal, a tablet with hand-scribbled notes tossed carelessly on the desk beside it. His cabin was small, a design choice necessitated by the challenges of space travel, but offered a decent-sized desk and a porthole with a fantastic view in addition to a basic but functional rack and head.
The door buzzer went off, interrupting him. In newer ships, a camera feed would be displayed on the terminal and the door could be opened with a voice command, but on the older Enterprise, he had to reach over and press a button. As he did so, he called, "Come in."
Lieutenant Commander Greenfield entered, posture straight but not quite at attention. Unlike Boone, who was formerly a destroyer captain, Greenfield drove subs before being selected for the Stargate Program. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"
"That's right." With a quick swipe, he pushed the article on his terminal over to his tablet before handing the device to his XO. "Take a look and tell me what you think."
She quickly skimmed the article before handing the tablet back. "A damned shame, skipper. Working hab, working ship, the only way to get between them scattered in a three mile radius."
"They're the second group of explorers ever to set foot on Mars- well, as far as the public knows- and they'll be the first to die there. They have enough food for maybe a month and it'll take twelve for a conventional spacecraft to make the trip." He sighed. "They're still talking with NASA, but there's nothing anyone on Earth can do. By the time they get there, the only thing left will be skeletons."
Greenfield really had nothing to add. "Yes, sir."
"It would take us only a few days to reach Mars on sublight engines alone, and minutes with the hyperdrive," Captain Boone mused. "We could swing by and drop off supplies or just beam them up and take them home. Except, of course, we're not allowed to do that."
"All measures must be taken to preserve the secrecy of the Stargate Program, which may only be compromised if deemed necessary to protect the continued existence of Earth," she paraphrased with a snort.
"The secret must be preserved at all costs," he agreed. "It's fucked up."
"It may be fucked up, but that's the reality we live in," she replied. "Excuse me, sir."
"No, you're right," he admitted. "Whether the world is ready or not, this is not the way to show them we exist. People who get paid a lot more than you and me came up with these policies for damned good reasons."
"But it still doesn't sit well with you, does it, Captain?" the Commander prodded.
"Of course not."
"I'm obliged to mention that this would constitute mutiny," Commander Greenfield reminded him.
"No, technically it would be barratry," the Captain corrected. "Which, I'll admit, is not much better."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're not seriously considering a rescue mission, sir?"
Captain Boone stood, pacing the five paces of his room. "I've been responsible for many deaths, Commander, on both sides. People die, people under your command die and innocent bystanders die. Sometimes you can't avoid it. But watching people die for no good goddamn reason even though you could easily prevent it is different, and I've seen that too many fucking times too."
"You could be relieved of command for saying that, Captain." Her tone indicated that she would not be the one to do it.
"What would you do, Greenfield?" the Captain asked. "You can be honest. It won't leave this room."
She chewed her lip for a moment. "Well, sir, our standing orders are to preserve the secrecy of the Stargate Program. We don't have a Prime Directive or anything that says we can't interfere. Every day, there are several windows with no satellite coverage over the landing site. The longest is about an hour, which gives us plenty of time. We beam them up, replace them with fabbed corpses that died of morphine overdoses, and drop them off at the nearest friendly world. Maybe someday they'll even be able to come home.
"It's not ideal, it would probably get me thrown in jail for the rest of my life, and I'd do it anyway. But I'm not in command of two hundred thirty officers and enlisted and a twenty billion dollar starship."
Boone laughed harshly. "You're assuming nobody would stop you."
"I thought that was assumed," she admitted. "Sir, I know the crew would follow you to the end of the galaxy, even if that means sharing the same cell. The only other ship in orbit is the Ark Royal, and Group Captain Morris is probably thinking the same thing. We'd make it to Mars, and we might even make it back." She quickly added, "Speaking hypothetically, sir."
"I'm sure you were," he replied sarcastically.
"We're not Rebels, Captain," Greenfield warned.
"No, but sometimes I wish we were," Boone admitted. "Forget this conversation ever happened. Dismissed, Commander."
There was a hint of disappointment in her voice. "Aye, sir."