The Blind Eye of God

Chapter Two.

The last of the staff, minus the Chaplain, was dashing up the corridor as Carlson turned into the wardroom. He made his way to the head of the table with the thick report in his hand as everybody elbowed their way into there space at the table. He saw that his Exec had his own copy with him, and he cleared his throat as the officers quieted and turned their heads towards him. "Well, I don't know what you've heard so far, but it looks like we have a problem. A BIG one. Sensors are picking up data that seems to indicate our planet ahead may be inhabited, and that does not jive with what the initial survey report is supposed to have said. XO (which is short hand for Executive Officer), is there anything in your copy of the survey that mentions this anomaly?"
Stark stared directly at Carlson and did not hesitate, "Captain, my report says we have virgin soil ahead, perfect for colonization. No mention of any kind of sentient occupation. That probe had to be totally blind not to see what these sensor reports are bringing back. I think somebody screwed up big time long before we left Earth orbit!"
Carlson held up his hand to mute the mumblings going on...."OK, then, I guess we alter the insertion course just a tad to distance our orbit, in case these people down there can see above them, and hold until I can get a message back to Mission Command. I hate to say it guys, but it looks like somebody back home just blew a few billion dollars. Nav, "he said, turning to his Navigation Officer, "are you 100% SURE nothing happened during our jump to make us appear somewhere else?"
"I'm positive, Captain, we are where we're supposed to be, and besides, other than the new data, everything else matches up perfectly with the probe info. There's no way in hell another planet altogether could have the same identical land masses that this one has. This IS the planet we were sent to claim!"
Carlson frowned, and was about to dismiss them, when the Chaplain made his first appearance, strolling into the wardroom and looking around in puzzlement. "You mean there was a party and I wasn't invited?", he tried joking, "Hello, Captain, sorry it took me so long to recover......anything exciting going on?" Everybody just glanced at each other, then back at the Captain. "Well, no, unless you consider a ruined mission exciting, Padre," quipped Carlson. "OK, everybody back to stations; we're going into surveillance mode until I can get new orders."
The Chaplain worked his way past the exiting staff members and stood next to the Captain, waiting for the room to empty. Carlson stared at him, wondering how much of his time the Padre was going to waste. However, the look on his face of impatience was replaced with puzzlement as the Chaplain spoke in a low voice, leaning past Carlson's shoulder, as tho he wanted no one else to hear. "Captain, you won't be needing to send any messages, I need to speak with you in your stateroom concerning a change in mission profile. You were not informed before departure concerning these new facts for a good reason, which I was briefed on and will relay to you now that the cat's out of the bag, so to speak. After you, Sir...."
Carlson stood stock still for a second, staring incredulously at his Chaplain, a man responsible for the spiritual well-being of his crew, not one expected to be privy to secret, off the book orders. He knew as well as anyone that Chaplains now operated pretty much like the political officers of the old communist regimes of the 20th century, placed there as much to keep an eye on loyalites as much as preaching the gospel. But this was a blatant bypass of the chain of command that Carlson was not going to accept without a damn good explanation. But for now he needed to know what the Padre knew, so he wheeled around, and headed for his stateroom at a fast clip, the Chaplain right on his heels.
The Captain closed the cabin door and pointed the good Reverend, LCDR Polson, to the chair on the other side of his small desk, sat down, and leaned forward. "OK, Padre, spit it out! I want to know what the hell is going on! Since when is the Captain of a space frigate the last one knowing what's going on with his own ship? This better be good, is all I can say!"
"Captain, " said the Padre, with a pained look on his face, "I can fully understand why you'd be upset. I follow orders just like you, and my orders were to brief you on the mission as soon as we cleared the jump. I'm sorry you discovered the anomalies before I could recover from the jump effects, I truly am. At any rate, I need to tell you something that has been kept from the general population, including most of the space service. This is Top Secret information that even I was unaware of until I was briefed by the UN directorate. It seems that our probes haven't been finding anything livable for some time now, with only a total of 3 planets that come anywhere close to being habitable, much less productive. Orion 5 has proven to rich in resources, mineral resources, that is, but the air is barely breathable and we've got just one base at the south pole where the temperatures can enable us to stay there. Capra 3 has two very small continents, so we can fish to our hearts' content, but there's not alot of dry land to colonize. This planet was the first we've found in 438 probes that resembles Earth, and frankly, we just can't afford very much more poking around in the dark before we have to shut down the deep space program altogether. Trouble is, if we do, we all die, because the environmental forecast gives us maybe 50 years before Earth becomes unlivable due to elevated temperatures and environmental collapse. We have no choice but to take what we can get, and that throws the whole "prime directive" idea right out the window."
Carlson soaked all this up calmly, at least on the outside, but inside his mind was racing. The Earth was in it's death throes? Anybody with any sense knew this was happening for decades now, so who did UN Directorate think THEY were fooling? Environmentalists had been sounding the alarm as far back as the beginning of the last century, yet conservative governments prospered and suppressed the whole idea that things would ever get that bad. That would have been bad for business. Yet now they were telling him that it was a sham, and that he was out here to find real estate, whether it was already occupied or not. Images of the trail of tears, an ancient tragedy his ancestors had endured, passed thru his mind as he comprehended what was happening.
"So, Padre, what you are telling me is that UNSC knew damn well this planet was occupied by a race of sentient beings and decided to send us out here anyway, only they thought if they sent you along to instruct me to invade this place, I would just smile and say "Yes Sir!" ? And did they honestly think I would just that easily overlook everything I was taught about my oath, to protect and defend the ideals spelled out in the New World Constitution, and merrily ignore all that by blindly following what are obviously illegal orders? Go ahead, I'm sure they told you something inspiring to lay on me when I questioned all this!"
The Chaplain sat back, interlaced his fingers, and stared hard at the Captain. If he had thought this was going to be easy, he knew better now, and yes, he DID have something to "lay on" the Captain, and the services most decorated space farer wasn't going to like it.