Rogue Stars

by C Gockel et al.

  “Would that I were. I—”

  “Are you seriously telling me an alien civilization is hiding in the Metis Nebula, and we’ve somehow missed this fact until now?”

  “Not exactly. There’s no signs of an actual civilization. You can see a large portal ring behind the ships in the last image—they’re coming through it.”

  “From where?”

  “No idea. Perhaps from some other region of the galaxy, or another galaxy. Perhaps from somewhere else. For obvious reasons it wasn’t feasible to approach close enough to determine much with respect to the portal.”

  He exhaled, long and slow. Things were never simple, were they? His job often required him to adapt quickly to rapidly changing circumstances, but damn. “Do you have any hard data on the ships or their inhabitants? These visuals are powerful, but as you can imagine our superiors are currently rather preoccupied. I could use some additional data to attract their attention.”

  “I do. I’m sending a full report detailing all the findings to your account.”

  “Excellent.” He resumed walking, albeit at a reduced pace. “What kind of numbers are we talking about? Does the last image constitute the entire force?”

  “The larger ships were still emerging through the portal when I left. I didn’t want to risk detection before getting this information out—hmm. The report bounced. It’s being blocked.”

  “Really? We’ve strengthened the defense grid on account of the conflict, but your ship’s authorized so transmissions from it should be allowed.”

  “Well…I’m not on my ship.”

  “Where are you?”

  “On a civilian vessel.”

  “Agent Marano, did you blow up another ship?”

  A notable pause. “Not intentionally.”

  He groaned. The man’s reputation was unmatched in Division; he had a fifteen-year-plus record of successful missions, including several no one should have been able to pull off. But he was proving to be a tad expensive. “Division’s resources are not unlimited. You realize this.”

  “I do, sir. It was unavoidable.”

  “I’m sure it was. You said you were on a civilian ship?”

  “Yes. It is registered under an Alliance designation though.”

  “I imagine there’s quite a story—” He frowned as an unwelcome possibility occurred to him. “You’re not being held under any coercion, are you?”

  “No, it’s nothing like…no, sir.” He thought he detected a trace of amusement in the response.

  “Well civilian or not, chances are it’ll still be blocked. We can’t risk remote electronic attacks so the defenses are casting a wide net.” He paused. While not officially sanctioned, the use of comm scramblers was at times a necessity in their line of work. “You don’t have any method of sending from a different designation?”

  There was a longer pause this time, as if the matter was under discussion. “No, sir. Not at this time. Can you obtain a waiver? I can provide the ship’s serial number designation if necessary.”

  “I can, but I’ll need to certify it Level IV. Is it worth it?”

  There was no hesitation in this response. It is.

  “Okay. Send me the ship ID and I’ll put in the request right away.”

  “Sent. Sir, regarding the war? It seems as though—”

  He drew to a stop once again as the ship ID came in. “Caleb, are you certain you’re not being held under any coercion?”

  “Quite certain. Why do you ask?”

  “Because you’re on a ship belonging to the daughter of a very powerful Alliance Admiral—were you not aware of this?”

  “Ah, that. Yes, I’m aware. It’s a long story, but she’s not acting on behalf of the Alliance military. She’s a civilian.”

  “Is she now. Nevertheless, I’m sure you will utilize any opening which may occur as a result of your current situation, yes?”

  “Absolutely. It’s just…yes, of course.”

  “I’ve filed the request. It shouldn’t take longer than an hour. If this report is as serious as you indicate, I’ll advance it up the chain with all due speed.” He sighed, his shoulders sagging briefly from the placement of yet more existential weight upon them. “Aliens, truly? As if everything hadn’t already gone to clusterfained Hell and back….”

  “I had noticed. Is this war supposed to make any sense? Because from here it simply doesn’t.”

  “Not so far as I can tell, but no one’s asked my opinion on the subject.”

  “We can talk about it further when—do you need me to come in, sir? Provide perspective or an eyewitness account to go with the report?”

  “Normally I would say yes, but your, um, rather unique situation complicates the issue. It’s an opportunity I’d hate for you to lose. I tell you what—hold tight until we have a chance to review your report. This alien threat is likely to fall to the military to handle, in which case they may want you to consult, or you may be able to turn your attention to other matters. I’ll get back to you as soon as I know something.”

  “Understood. I would implore you to treat the contents of the report with the utmost urgency, but I suspect the report will accomplish that for itself.”

  The connection ended, and he paused at the side entrance to HQ. The visuals Marano had sent were horrifying, almost incomprehensibly so. They were otherworldly, as if out of a nightmare….

  A nightmare which now made the real horrors of the actual war waiting for him inside those doors seem almost welcome by comparison.

  “Graham, the eve of war is not the appropriate setting for your brand of humor.”

  Delavasi leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms against his chest. “Chairman, even I wouldn’t attempt such a joke tonight of all nights.”

  Vranas stared at him, skepticism ranking high in his expression. “Aliens.”

  “And not the fluffy bunny kind. It’s best if I just show you.” He sent the report to the screen above Vranas’ desk. “These images came in from one of our SpecOps agents three hours ago, but they’re over a day old. Apparently communications into or out of the Metis Nebula are difficult, as in impossible.”

  The Chairman sank into his chair as most of the color drained from his face. “Those are…what’s the scale?”

  “The dreadnoughts measure approximately 2.4 kilometers in length and 410 meters in width. There are seventy-eight of them in the visuals, but they were apparently still emerging from that ring structure when our agent departed the scene so he could get the report to us. As for the smaller ships, there are easily hundreds of thousands.”

  “And this is in Metis? But there’s nothing in Metis.”

  “Agreed. Clearly the portal originates elsewhere. Where that might be is anyone’s guess.”

  Vranas guzzled his bottle of water and activated a holo. “Field Marshal Gianno. Apologies, but I need your immediate attention.”

  The leader of the Military Council and Commander of the Armed Forces crystalized into view. She stood at a bank of screens bright with data, but turned to face them. “Chairman. Director Delavasi. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m sending you a file. Take a moment to review it then we’ll discuss the matter.”

  Graham stood to pace along the rug in front of Vranas’ desk while they waited. It didn’t take long.

  Unlike Vranas or even Graham himself when Michael had initially shown him the report, Gianno’s expression remained as neutral as when she had answered the holo. The woman gave new meaning to the word ‘unflappable.’

  “Well this represents a complication. I don’t relish fighting a war on two fronts. Am I looking at the most up to date information we have?”

  “You are.”

  “Is the Alliance aware of this development?”

  Graham nodded. “If they aren’t yet, I believe they soon will be.” Vranas’ eyes shot over to him in question; he gave a weak shrug. “It’s complicated.”

  Gianno opened a new screen and scrolled through dat
a too detailed to be read over the holo. “The 2nd GOI Platoon on New Riga can be inside Metis in a day and a half. They’re heavily armed, fast and very covert—and should it be necessary they’re unmatched in a fight. We need updated intel and a location on these ships.”

  The Chairman raised an incredulous eyebrow. “They can stand up against those dreadnoughts?”

  She gave the tiniest little smile. “Well, as much as anyone can. Perhaps more relevantly, they can bug out faster than anyone can. The report states communications aren’t working in Metis?”

  “Correct. I’ve set one of my Tech groups working on it, but it’s not looking like an easy fix.”

  The tiny smile had already faded to a tiny frown. “The lack of real-time intel is going to be problematic. I’ll instruct the team to send back drones with updates for the time being, until we devise a better solution. Chairman, on your order I’ll initiate the operation now.”

  Vranas let out a long, heavy exhale and stared at the foreboding images, then nodded. “Authorized.”

  “Very well. Director, is this Agent Marano available to accompany the team? His experience in Metis and observing the ships firsthand would be valuable.”

  Graham rubbed at his forehead then ran the hand through his hair. “I don’t believe he’s in the region at the moment, but I’ll request he report to New Riga promptly.”

  “Thank you. It will take around twelve hours to ready the mission. If he can’t be there in sixteen, we go without him.”

  41 Siyane

  Space, Northeast Quadrant

  Caleb was leaning against the back of the couch when she came upstairs. The expression on his face was as weighty as when they’d discovered the portal and its travelers. She paused at the top of the stairwell. “What is it?”

  “I heard back from Volosk.”

  “And?”

  His eyes closed with a slow exhale that screamed weariness. He looked tired in a way she had never seen. Of course, she probably did, too.

  “Alex, I need to get back home.”

  “Why, so you can join the war effort?” Damn that sounded snippy. She hadn’t meant it. Unless it was true.

  “So I can do my job. Listen, I don’t want this war any more than you do—almost certainly less—but they didn’t ask me.”

  “And the army of invading aliens?”

  “My top priority—my only priority. They want me to join a team heading into Metis for a more extensive investigation. Which is a good thing—it means they’re paying attention to the threat.”

  She flinched and spun away, toward the kitchen. Tea. She needed tea. It kept her mother absurdly calm, no reason it shouldn’t do the same for her, right? Her pulse pounded in her ears, causing his voice to sound distant, all echo-y and muffled. Why did she feel as though she was about to panic?

  “No.” Her voice was so soft she hardly heard it above the pounding.

  Silence lingered for aeons.

  “No…what?”

  “No, you can’t go home right now. We passed New Orient hours ago and are well into Alliance space.” She half-turned to him, leaving herself the option to retreat again. “At this point I can’t afford to turn around. I’m sorry, you’ll have to come with me.”

  He blinked at her. His jaw solidified into a chiseled line. His lips pursed together. He blinked again. She could see his eyes darken, until they were the color of the Pacific under a moonless night sky. “So I’m still your prisoner after all.”

  “There’s no reason to look at it that way….”

  “Not really seeing another way to look at it.”

  “I told you before, I need you with me when we get to Earth.”

  “You need me. Tell me Alex, how exactly do you need me—and don’t even try the ‘two voices are better than one’ line, because that is bullshit.”

  She wished then she were the recipient of an expression of pained patience, as it beat being the recipient of the expression he wore right now by several parsecs. But she had no answer for him. She couldn’t have an answer for him.

  “I guess you’re still my prisoner then.”

  “Well. That’s…outstanding.” The tight muscles along the line of his jaw flexed. Abruptly he pushed off the couch and started down the stairs.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To take a shower. A long one.”

  “But you already—”

  He paused mid-step, but didn’t even glance up at her. “I. Don’t. Care.”

  She watched him disappear down the stairwell. Terrific move, Alex. Top notch.

  She walked slowly to the cockpit, tea forgotten. She sat and toed the chair in aimless circles and tried to puzzle out precisely why she had done it and what she had expected the result to be. But she hadn’t expected any result, because she hadn’t thought. Instead she had panicked and reacted instinctively.

  Which wasn’t like her at all. She felt…detached, untethered. Like the firmament of the world had been yanked out from beneath her, leaving her adrift without an anchor. It was odd, since she usually felt more grounded in space, on her ship, sailing amongst the stars. Now though, her beloved stars had become the enemy. And she was on the verge of turning an ally into another one.

  But when he reappeared upstairs half an hour later, she couldn’t bring herself to retract her declaration. She told herself once he cooled off it would be fine. “Listen—”

  “Don’t.”

  “I only—”

  “And I said don’t.”

  Okay, not quite cooled off just yet.

  He practically stalked over to the data center. “Give me access to the raw data. I’m going to search for anything else to help the team heading in.”

  When she didn’t respond, his gaze rose to find her. Her brow had furrowed in uncertainty at him.

  “Alex, give me access to the raw data.”

  The tone of his voice brokered no argument, permitted no resistance. She found she was standing and walking over.

  She entered a sequence in the holo control panel then reached across and activated the interface in front of him. Their shoulders touched, and she looked up at him; he didn’t look down at her.

  She swallowed and backed away. “You can access whatever you need from there. I’ll be over here working…if you have any questions.”

  42 Earth

  Houston

  The ballroom gleamed from a ceiling adorned in thousands of fiber-optic icicles. The orchestra occupied a circular raised dais in the center of the room so their dulcet strains could be heard throughout the space without overpowering any portion of it. The bar and buffet lined the left wall, split in the middle by the cake—an enormous affair which spelled out ‘Happy 50th Anniversary.’ It should provide sufficient pieces for the 640 guests. She had underestimated.

  War may have been declared the day before, but it had not yet hit the radar of this social scene. That much was certain.

  Kennedy entered the room fashionably late, having just arrived on the suborbital from Manhattan where she had picked up her dress, her shoes and her date. The dress was sea foam lace, the shoes translucent strappy heels and the date the CEO of a startup solar-power satellite firm. He also happened to be an old friend from university, and more than happy to entertain her when she came to town…or Earth for that matter. It was a shame she had never managed to fall in love with him, because he genuinely was quite a good time and a good friend on top of it.

  She leaned in close on his arm. “Oh my. I haven’t lived here in twenty years, I don’t recognize any of these people—except the famous ones, obviously. You run in these circles, help me out, Gabe.”

  He chuckled. “Well, to the left is your brother, alongside his dashing husband. And there toward the middle near the orchestra are your mother and father. If I’m not mistaken, they’re talking to the Alliance Attorney General and the District Governor.”

  “They are such ass-kissers. And you’re a smart ass.” She sighed and rolled her shoulders gamely. “I
suppose we should go speak to them. But I see Tara Singleton over there eyeing the cake—we’re escaping to her at the soonest available opportunity. Oh, and drinks first.”

  He gestured for her to lead the way. “You know, if you dislike your parents so much, why did you travel over three hundred parsecs to be here?”

  “Because it is expected. Because I deplore making a scene, even by my absence. And because I don’t dislike them—I’m merely bored by them.”

  Her parents were intelligent enough people. Capable and shrewd. In their years together they had served as excellent stewards of the family fortune, growing it by over forty percent while investing handsomely in the economic and environmental improvement of the Texas coast and Louisiana delta.

  But they didn’t do anything. They didn’t make anything. The family fortune existed solely due to the genius and sheer determination of her great-great-grandmother, whose design of a commercially viable Woodward-Mach impulse engine opened the solar system to colonization and development. Sixty years later the sLume drive opened the galaxy to the same and rendered the impulse engine a commodity, but those were a very lucrative sixty years.

  Though her great-great-grandmother had died in a construction accident during the early days of the Jupiter orbital habitats, her devoted husband had ensured her legacy endured. Yet each generation since had been less impressive. Her great-grandfather helped improve the radiation shielding necessary for interstellar travel, while her grandmother and granduncle contented themselves with managing—but not improving—deep core oil drilling in the Gulf. Her uncle was a representative in the Earth Alliance Assembly and served on several environmental committees. Her father…he simply married well.

  “Dad, how are you?” She smiled broadly as she hugged him, careful not to spill a drop of her drink in the process. As she pulled back the smile remained firmly in place. “Mom, you look ravishing, as usual.”

  “Oh, but you put me to shame, Kennedy dear. What a stunning gown, truly. And Mr. Hamilton, isn’t it? I believe I saw you on the cover of Galactic Entrepreneur Weekly recently, yes?”