“I see your point, Sasha,” Emily remarked, “but do we know if they even want our help? I wasn’t aware any of the refugees we interviewed were connected to the Caernarvon government.”
“No,” Garrett supplied, “none of them were connected to the government beyond a couple people who had worked in a records office somewhere.”
“Look,” Painter interjected from the far end of the table, “it’s all well and good to sit here, shake our heads, and say it’s not our business…but the time will come when it is our business. Everything I’ve heard says we will be at war with the Coalition sooner rather than later, and personally, I think we should plan to move on their more recent acquisitions first. Yes…they’ll be more heavily defended, because they are—or are near—the front line, so to speak, but those will be the populations most favorably disposed toward fighting the Coalition in my mind.”
The conversation faded, and Cole took that to mean everyone with something to say had said it.
Cole tapped on the table with his knuckles, saying, “I appreciate everyone’s thoughts. I think it best if we categorize Caernarvon as an evolving situation at present. Let’s keep an eye on it but not make it our primary focus. Sev, are the courier ships ready?”
“The last one is completing space trials today,” Sev replied. “The others have all checked out.”
“Very well. In that view, let’s discuss travel assignments. Sev and Harlon, I’d like for both of you to go to Tristan’s Gate. Yeleth, you’ll go to the Ghrexel homeworld, and Red, you’ll visit the Igthons. Painter, I’m asking you to visit the ISA and Zurich leadership; since both are in the same system, it should be fairly straightforward. I think those will do for now, but keep the remaining couriers prepped and ready to go just in case. Are there any questions?”
When the room remained silent after five seconds, Cole nodded once. He stood and led everyone out of the briefing room.
Chapter Eighteen
Courier Vessel 47-Alpha
Zurich System
11 September 3003, 07:18 GST
Painter looked up from her tablet when the pilot’s console played the tone for an incoming message. She stood up from the small table in the equally small galley and walked the necessary steps—no more than ten meters—to arrive in the cockpit. Accessing the console, she saw a text message from Cole.
Slipping into the pilot’s seat while still eating her sandwich, Painter keyed the commands to display the text message on the multi-function display where cockpit windows would exist on ancient atmospheric craft.
Hello, Painter,
If you’re reading this, you’ve arrived in Zurich. Forgive me for being so secretive about this, but it was part of the terms requested by the system leadership in Zurich.
Back in June, Paol and I went to Zurich, telling everyone back home that it was a trip to examine the civics of their government. While that was true in a sense, the actual purpose was to negotiate and enact a mutual defense treaty between Zurich and Beta Magellan. They requested the meeting through an old family friend at the bank and asked if we would be agreeable to the treaty, given the situation with the Coalition.
As far as I know, you are the third person on our side to know about this agreement. Hmmm…better make that fourth, as it’s safe to assume Srexx knows everything we know. I ask that you keep the contents of this message to yourself, as it would be classified at the highest levels if we actually had a data classification system. If anyone questions your right to have this knowledge, respond that they are welcome to contact me directly; all relevant parties have my direct comms code.
Find me if you need me.
Sincerely,
Cole
Painter stared at the message on the display, the sandwich in her left hand forgotten. She blinked a couple times as she processed that Cole had concluded a major diplomatic mission with no one the wiser.
The comms system chirped, jerking Painter out of her musings. A cruiser and destroyer with the Zurich SDF approached off her port bow; the cruiser was hailing her.
Painter keyed the commands to accept the hail and put the sandwich out of view as the comms channel came online. Painter found herself looking at a man just a few years older than her.
“Hello, and welcome to Zurich,” the man said. “I’m Commander Giles Ivanov. Please, forgive me for asking your purpose in Zurich today.”
Painter smiled. “Hello, Commander. I am Julianna Painter, and I’ve come to Zurich at the request of my employer, Bartholomew James Coleson. I hope to schedule meetings with the ISA and system leadership.”
If Painter’s purpose in the system surprised Commander Ivanov, he didn’t show it. The man merely nodded once, saying, “Very well. We’ll transmit your relevant clearances. I hope you enjoy your stay in our system.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Painter replied. “I appreciate your time.”
The comms call ended, and within thirty seconds, the console informed Painter of a data burst received from the courier. She accepted the data burst and keyed the commands to display the contents on the viewscreen. It contained a short bit of text with the courier’s hull number and transponder code, followed by an encrypted packet that contained her full clearance to transit the system. For most ships, the hull number and transponder code were burned into chips in the comms system and extremely difficult to change, spoof, or counterfeit.
After satisfying her curiosity about the data burst, Painter set it aside and worked up two letters—one for the ISA and one for the system leadership—in which she stated her desire for a meeting. After reading over it a couple times, she attached the letter of introduction Cole had given her to each letter and fired them off to their respective recipients. Both the ISA and the system leadership had offices in Zurich One, the oldest of the system’s stations, which would make things much easier.
The next morning, Painter eased into the pilot’s seat, coffee in hand, and accessed the comms system. Selecting ‘Zurich One Traffic Control’ from the list, Painter keyed the command to initiate a call. Within moments, the cockpit’s speakers chirped as the call connected.
“Zurich Traffic Control, how may I assist you?” the cockpit’s speakers broadcast.
“Hello,” Painter replied. “This is Julianna Painter aboard Beta Magellan Courier Forty-Seven-Alpha. I’m calling for clearance to dock.”
“One moment please,” the traffic controller said.
Painter took another swallow of coffee while she waited.
“I do apologize for the wait, Ambassador,” the traffic controller resumed. “We have a priority docking bay for you in the diplomatic section. Do you require any additional services?”
Painter almost dropped her coffee. Ambassador? Now she wished she had actually read that letter of introduction before she sent it.
“I don’t believe so at this time,” Painter answered.
“Very good, ma’am,” the traffic controller replied. “As per standard protocol, I have notified Zurich Foreign Ministry of your arrival, and they informed me that a representative will meet you at the docking bay. On behalf of Zurich One, we hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you. I’m sure I will.”
The speakers chirped once more, signaling the end of the call. Painter took the few moments necessary to locate the transponder for her docking assignment and keyed the commands necessary to activate the autopilot. A prompt came up to grant the station’s automated docking control permission to pilot the craft, and Painter accepted.
That task complete, Painter accessed the ship’s computer, digging into the system in search of the letter Cole had given her. It didn’t take long to find it, and Painter felt a bit light-headed as she read it.
Bartholomew James Coleson
of Beta Magellan
to
The Honorable Leadership of Zurich
My friends:
In these uncertain times, with war spreading throughout the Expansion Zone, I believe the occasion has arr
ived to establish a more formal relationship between the people of Beta Magellan and Zurich. To that end, I have decided to accredit before your government, Ms. Julianna Adrienne Painter, with the rank of Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary.
Ms. Painter has earned an exceptional level of trust, which enables me to make this assertion without concern or reservation. I ask that Ms. Painter be given full credit and credence in all she may communicate on my behalf.
Sincerely and with respect,
Bartholomew James Coleson
Painter collapsed against the back of her seat, staring at the text on the screen in front of her. A portion of her conscious mind simply refused to process what she was reading. How could she be an ambassador? She was just a freighter captain. Well, former freighter captain. What was she now? That question led Painter to consider for the first time in a long while just how much responsibility Cole entrusted to her. The civilian shipping answered to her. She—or her people—oversaw all civilian hiring…all of it across Beta Magellan and all of its territories. She worked with Sev in coordinating crews for all new starship construction. And…that was only just the start of it. Still, she didn’t feel like she warranted the title of Ambassador. That was just too much, wasn’t it?
A faint shuddering throughout the ship signaled that it was now resting on its landing struts inside the docking bay. Painter keyed the commands to display an external view on the main screens, and she grimaced at seeing the collection of people filing into the docking bay; every single one of them looked ‘important.’ With a heavy sigh, Painter left the cockpit for her quarters; if she was meeting important people, she probably shouldn’t do so in a freighter rat’s ship-suit.
Painter used her implant to retract the boarding ramp and secure the ship as she walked across the docking bay to her welcoming committee. The stray thought that she hoped her visit to Zurich would go better than had Cole’s visit to Qeecir almost made her laugh, but she managed to maintain her pleasant non-expression.
A middle-aged man at the front of the group took a couple steps forward as Painter neared the group, extending his right hand and saying, “Welcome to Zurich, Your Excellency. I am Nathaniel Vaughn, Undersecretary to the Foreign Minister, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“A pleasure, sir,” Painter replied, “and thank you for the kind greeting.”
“You’re very welcome. Zurich knows how to treat her friends. Now, if you will come with us, I shall escort you to your temporary quarters while we sort out the list of potential facilities for your embassy. The Foreign Minister has arranged some time tomorrow for the formal presentation of credentials, and we should be able to schedule a meeting with the leadership within two or three days.”
Painter hoped she hid her shock well. A meeting with the system leadership—any system’s leadership—within two or three days? They must view Cole and Beta Magellan as very good friends indeed to move with that kind of alacrity. A notification from her implant compounded her suppressed surprise; the ISA would grant her an immediate meeting at a time of her choosing.
Perhaps, this mission to Zurich wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Painter keyed the command to close the hatch of her temporary quarters and leaned against the bulkhead. At least with the formal presentation of credentials over, she could focus on her real reason for being in Zurich. Using her implant, she sent a message to her ISA contact asking when would be the best time for a meeting; the response was immediate and stated they could be ready at any time. They ended up settling on meeting in an hour, giving Painter time to change and traverse the station to their offices.
The ISA offices in Zurich doubled as both a regional administrative center for the organization as a whole and also the ISA office for Zurich, where spacers could go to test for new ratings or join the organization or search for jobs. Stepping through the hatch into the lobby, Painter found herself in a large open area much like the ISA office in Tristan’s Gate. Smiling at the familiarity, she approached the reception desk.
“Good day,” Painter said. “I’m Julianna Painter, and I have an appointment with the ISA leadership.”
The young man at the desk nodded. “Welcome to the ISA. One moment, please, while I alert the leadership that you’ve arrived.” He keyed a few commands on his workstation, and his eyes went very wide very fast. “Uhm, ma’am…er…Madame Ambassador, please forgive me. Take the lift to your right, and someone will be waiting for you.”
“Thank you,” Painter replied, adding a nod and what she hoped was a reassuring smile. As she walked the short distance to the indicated lift, she grinned at the young man’s reaction; the mischievous side of her could get to like that title Cole sandbagged her with.
The passage of three minutes or so saw Painter entering a rather plush office a couple of levels above the main ISA space. Seven people waited for her, sitting around a curved table. The aide leading Painter indicated an unused chair and offered refreshment—which Painter politely declined—before leaving.
“Madame Ambassador,” the woman sitting at the center of the group said, “welcome to the headquarters of the Interstellar Spacers’ Association. I’m Vera Ghent, Chair of the ISA Commission. Mr. Coleson has been a very good friend to our members, and we look forward to returning the favor. How can we help you?”
“Well, my purpose here today is more in the nature of updating you as representatives of the ISA on our current intelligence regarding the Coalition. This data crystal contains a presentation about current affairs within the Coalition along with a number of predictions based on the data included. We all know spacers talk to one another and often do a better job of disseminating warnings and advisories than official channels, but Mr. Coleson thought it best to offer a formal notification of what we’ve learned.”
“Of course,” Ms. Ghent replied. “We appreciate Beta Magellan looking out for us.”
“We’re all spacers,” Painter said, “and spacers look after their own.”
“Here, here,” a man off to Painter’s left vocalized.
“Well,” Ms. Ghent resumed, “why don’t you give us an overview of the material?”
Painter shifted her position in the seat for greater comfort and started with the abridged presentation. Twenty minutes later, she concluded with Srexx’s predictions.
Ms. Ghent spoke first. “Yes, the Coalition’s invasion of Caernarvon does argue that they’re pursuing a policy of militaristic expansion. Our analysts will have to examine the data before we’ll be in a position to agree with your evaluation that they’ll move against Tristan’s Gate or somewhere similar within six months to a year, but based on what we’re seeing it almost seems a foregone conclusion. There have even been quite a few rumors that the Coalition may target Zurich, intending to control interstellar banking.”
Painter nodded. “We’ve heard those same concerns ourselves.”
“Thank you for bringing us this information,” Ms. Ghent said, “and please thank Mr. Coleson as well.”
“I shall do so. If there’s nothing else, I’ll let you get back to your day.”
Ms. Ghent nodded, and Painter stood. She made her goodbyes and left the office.
Chapter Nineteen
Vance Residence
Tristan’s World
Tristan’s Gate System
15 September 3003, 12:49 GST
Sev and Harlon sat in the great room of Sev’s parents’ house. Carl and Lindsay Vance and Jed Hanson sat with them. Sev and Harlon had just finished going through the presentation with their families that they hoped to deliver to the system leadership.
“That is an alarming analysis,” Jed remarked in his gruff voice. “I don’t like it at all. What are those idiots up on The Gate doing about it?”
Sev chuckled. “Isn’t your grandson one of ‘those idiots’?”
“Nah,” Jed replied. “He declined to run again when his term was up. They have an almost all-new pack of fools running the system now. Stone’s s
till the Defense Minister, though; at least that chump of a system president can do one thing right.”
“Is the new batch really that bad?” Harlon asked.
Lindsay shrugged. “It depends on what you want and what your goals are.”
Just then, the doorbell rang several times in quick succession followed by urgent knocking.
“What in the world?” Carl grumbled as he pushed himself to his feet. Not even two minutes later, Carl returned with Defense Minister Stone.
“Minister Stone?” Lindsay asked. “Be welcome in our home, but I must say this is a surprise.”
“Thank you for your welcome,” Stone replied and looked at Sev and Harlon. “You need to leave…right now.”
“What?” Carl asked.
Jed’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “What have those damn fools done now?”
“I just left a meeting in which General Trumball successfully convinced President Harker to take possession of your ship,” Stone answered, “even after you’d transmitted your letter of credence. The SDF is already mobilizing, and if you don’t lift off now—like within the next ten minutes—your ship will be seized. They’ll probably hold you for questioning, too.”
Sev closed his eyes and shook his head, then resumed his eye contact with Stone as he said, “Have they given any thought to what Cole’s response will be if they do this? Do they honestly think he’ll just roll over and accept this?”
Carl, Lindsay, Jed, and Stone blanched.
“What?” Harlon asked.
“My implant just lost connection with SystemNet,” Jed replied. “They must’ve deployed a jammer.”
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