by F Stephan
Space Station Acheron
F Stephan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 F Stephan
All rights reserved.
Prologue
Paris, June 04, 2134
Top executives in dark suits filed into the secure conference room below the old Ritz Palace in Paris. Few knew the underground place beside its current guests. They had gathered at the same location by what would appear to casual observers to be sheer luck. To avoid direct recognition, they wore bautas, antique Venetian masks covering the whole face. Italians had discarded them when the rise of the Mediterranean Sea had swallowed Venice. But today the beautiful pieces of art boasting gold, silver, and jewels had resurfaced for this meeting, protecting their wearers’ anonymity.
A woman in a dark expensive business suit and a mask boasting elegant eagle feathers focused the attention of the crowd just with her presence. Opposite her across the large round table, a single empty chair remained as if no one could oppose her.
“Welcome, my friends, and again, thank you for choosing me as your spokeswoman. I am glad to see you here. Our meetings are far too rare and too short.” A mumble of agreement answered her simple yet elegant words. Her accent was Old NorAm, and her voice rang in the hall. “Yet we can’t afford to be exposed. The United Organization and their bothersome President dream daily of breaking our talks. One of our dear friends made the mistake of talking to them. She should face me today.” Others shot glances at the empty seat. A few sighs echoed in the uncomfortable silence. “Such an unfortunate event. Ecowarriors attacked her ship while sailing through the Caribbean arc. No one survived. It involved piracy, of course.”
The words rang false. A shiver ran through the assembly. It could happen to any of them. The victim had probably traveled in a commercial liner and casualties would be in the hundreds at least. Ecowarriors were just another convenient scapegoat in the deadly game the crowd gathered on that night were playing. Assassins were their law enforcers.
Breaking the awkward silence, the spokeswoman slammed one hand on the table, bringing their attention back to her. Feathers ruffled above her head, a disturbing sound. She opened her other hand, and she pushed a picture in front of her. A dark metal ovoid hovering over the moon. “Now, what’s this new nuisance?” She spat out these words, her disgust obvious even with her face hidden by her mask.
The participants looked at one another, scared by her outburst, hesitating to answer.
“Looks like there’s a new player in town,” said one of the masked figures, his Asian voice sounding amused. His mask was in contrast to the spokeswoman’s, a very simple ivory face with no ornament. Humans had banned crafting ivory for over a century. The simplicity of the mask was in itself a statement of the power and wealth of its wearer.
She threw him a dark look. “Aliens? Is this for real?” she answered with a snap, welcomed by grunts of approval around the table. “What do we know about them?”
Another woman spoke up in a sweet and languorous Latin voice. “A week ago, an alien spaceship contacted our governments. It appeared a hundred thousand klicks away from the moon. No advanced satellite saw its approach.” Her voice betrayed her eagerness and her fascination with the encounter in space.
The audience stirred, and some seemed to support her statement.
“Why now? What do they want? They are disturbing our plans.” Again, the spokeswoman’s words were spat in disgust. The woman withdrew into her seat, away from the table. “Don’t back off, my dear. You seemed interested. What can you share with us?”
“They’ve sent a message in all our languages. We come in peace. Your moon is a good place to set up a quarantine facility until we can check medical resilience and meet.”
Again, people grumbled and sighed, still hidden by their masks.
A male voice said in a steady but accented European voice, “Do we have people on the moon?”
A small woman joined the discussion. Her heavy accent betrayed her origin in the Southern African Protectorate. “Not anymore, since we forced the United Organization to close operations there. The Diplomatic Corps is now sending back a team led by Don Mariano Della Vega. Jeanne de Savigny will support lunar operations for the duration of the talk.”
The spokeswoman sneered, her words reeking with hatred. “That spider? At least up there she is out of our way.”
“President Metre is no fool. And his ambassador is rather efficient. We could do worse for the first meeting with aliens. Even you can’t stand Jeanne,” the first man answered with a laugh. “Problem is it’ll be hard to infiltrate on our side.”
Tension crackled in the room.
The spokeswoman turned her magnificent mask to look at all of them by turn. “One thing is sure. We must postpone our coup d’état. Let the President be blamed with this mess.” Once again, the spokeswoman took the lead of the group. “What do we do about it?”
A laugh answered her, coming from her Asian counterpart. “We’ll get them to leave. Don’t worry, Lady. It may take us a few years.” His words seemed deadly serious, and the audience shivered as if a sudden cold wind had blown over them. “We’ll sow distrust among the population for these newcomers, whatever they want. We’ll throw them away, out of our playground. And then, we will take the leadership we deserve.”
A thunderous clapping welcomed his statement.
Tasha
Adheek, June 14, 2140
“Thank you for inviting us today here, Master.” Tasha Podorovski bowed low to Kilet Namek, Pilot Guild master for the Adheek’s sector and Chief Master Trader for the Namek Consortium. He had invited her with Don Mariano Della Vega into the personal lounge in the entertainment center by the Velan Lake. Their host sat opposite them, his back straight in his luxurious chair. Tasha loved the artworks displayed in the room and the rich carpets under her sandals. Both came from the planets around Adheek and only the most powerful of the families who controlled the space trade could afford to gather casually such wealth in one place.
“Please, please, honored Pilot. And Trader as well. You and I have a lot in common, as you may see in future years. I’m truly glad to welcome you here.” Those words were said in earnest. And this fact alone troubled Tasha deeply. Honest words from a politician’s tongue meant she was missing something. Yet she bowed her head, acknowledging the compliment. “My dear Ambassador, I’m glad as well you could join us.” Beside her, the ambassador was a reassuring presence. He was a middle-aged man with olive skin and a large mustache, a leading diplomat on Earth, a brilliant mind hidden behind the facade of traditional Spanish nobility. More than that, she trusted him.
Kilet motioned to them and they sat facing the lake. Night was falling on Adheek and the city awakened slowly, the brutal heat dropping. She had often been to the official pilot lounge, and she knew the entertainment center would be quite slow for a while yet, but 3D holograms had begun to rise over the lake with giant tipols playing over the water. The monkey-like creatures were the true native inhabitants of Adheek, a divergent form of evolution Adheekens had protected through the ages. They were both very familiar and strangely disquieting. Tasha smiled. Soon the crowd would gape at the fantastic creatures. Many shows would follow, but the opening always set the mood for the night.
“Dear Pilot and Trader, you’ll be back on your own planet within a few weeks with your first ship to command. That’s quite unexpected good news for your planet, but it doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy on you.”
He was constantly reminding her of her titles. Six years ag
o, before the Federation contacted Earth, Tasha had been the heiress of the Podorovski Conglomerate, one of the biggest remaining industrial corporations on Earth. She had dreaded the time where she would have to take after her father. Then the Federation had come and offered its strange alliance, support for pilots. When the result of the Choosing had been reached, she had jumped on the opportunity, the only chance she would ever have to flee her doom and learn a new trade among the stars. She had survived the nanites, the nano-robots which gave her the ability to lead a spaceship through hyperspace, at least as long as she kept them under control, and she had finally graduated. Now she belonged to the small group of humans who linked all the planets of the Federation to one another. Today, she only wore her simple pilot uniform as a statement. Yet Kilet, the most powerful pilot in this quarter of the Federation, wore the same outfit. False modesty for both of us?
Don Mariano frowned, drawing out a pen from his wallet. He was still using paper, an old-fashioned mannerism in this age of space travel. But she had to admit it also gave him time to think. “What do you mean? No one expected us to have a ship so soon. You didn’t find any on the asteroid belt.” The Federation couldn’t build starships. They could only use abandoned ones, built by the Ancient, a civilization which had collapsed ten thousand years before. Kilet had had a ship in the solar system looking for one of the lost spaceships during three years before abandoning. “Before Brian stumbled on it last year, we had never planned for such a boon and we aren’t entirely ready for it; we do understand it, Trade Master.”
Tasha added in her melodious but firm voice, “What we do understand is that a planet without a ship lives on leased material and cannot prosper. Our situation on Earth is dire enough. We make the best use we can of this opportunity. You wanted to tell us more?”
Kilet slouched in his chair. “As you said, until now, you were very limited in space operations. No real way for you to exploit the asteroid belt, even with your mining operations there. No real way for you to reach the trade route. Just borrowing a little space on our ship. You’ll have to achieve a lot more to qualify as a full Federation member and keep the ship.”
What does he mean?
“We know our limits, dear Trade Master. You’ve made them perfectly clear in our past encounters.” Before she could react, Don Mariano stepped in, annoyance simmering in his tone. “What do you mean by qualify? Another case of small print we didn’t understand.” He might be old-fashioned, but he was far quicker than Tasha was, and she had to learn this skill.
“I didn’t want to offend you, dear Ambassador. And I’m not writing the rules. It’s the job of the Federation Council on Alkath.” Kilet bent toward them, as if sharing a secret. “You don’t have a support base for your operation. You can pilot the ship, Tasha. Wilfried and Leopold as well. But now you need more than that. You’ll need the backing of your planet, which may not be easy to obtain. You’ll need a working space station to transfer goods from Earth to orbit and back. You’ll need to man your ship and the station with adequate crews. And last, you need to create a schedule of work you can sustain over a long period. If you exert yourself too far, you won’t maintain your operation for any length of time. What the Federation wants is a long-term relationship. Maybe ‘requires’ would be a better word.”
Don Mariano answered in the same tone, “I know Anaru, the President of the Earth United Organization, and I can assure you we’ll have all the backing we need. The beginnings may be rough, with the station still under construction, but we’ll get this sorted. The whole planet is behind us.”
“Ambassador, your planet hasn’t yet signed a charter defining how your station will operate. This document is mandatory and still missing. This isn’t good news.”
Tasha was stunned by his firmness. Anaru, yes. But the whole planet and all governments behind us, is it true? She knew the ambassador didn’t believe it either, but his face betrayed no qualms. Kilet would be forced to accept his statement. “Nikolai, my brother, still runs our family’s conglomerate. His support will open doors for us in the business world, which we will need opened to establish our operation.” Despite her assurance, she knew this would be far more complex. Her father had hinted that some among the wealthy and the powerful had opposed the Federation since Contact. She had been brought up in the corporate world of intrigue and she dreaded going back into that quagmire.
Kilet rose to look over the lake. Night had fallen, and the giant 3D figures were now playing in front of a small crowd. “I hope it’s true. You’ll need the wholehearted support of governments and corporations and, beyond them, of the citizens of your world. To qualify as a full Federation member, you need to be able to stand on our own, not depending on any other member to link you to the stars. This should be your number one priority from now on.” Kilet was now firm, his gaze intent.
Tasha had to ask. “And what if we don’t succeed? You’ll audit us regularly, is that it? What’ll happen then? You can’t take away our ship, can you?” A nod from Don Mariano showed he had already guessed the answer.
Kilet wasn’t looking at her when he replied. “Yes, we can. Without the station, without the support of your planet, without trained crews, the ship reverts to the Federation. We can’t afford to have you waste it. The Federation will run it for you until you’re ready.” There are no ships except Ancient relics and no other way to link our worlds. The Federation’s aim is to connect humans and will let nothing stand in its path.
Still in shock, Tasha blurted, “We now need the ship and the trade to make a difference. I’ve run simulations. If our projections are good, we can finance a fusactor within a year.” The advanced fusion reactors were desperately needed to replace older power plants.
“And this is why we hope you succeed. This is also why I asked you to come here and deliver this message in person. I want you to succeed. I want a new trade partner at my door. I know how hard for you it would be to withdraw your ship when you need it.” Again, his words rang true, worrying Tasha deeply. Kilet continued. “The rules are hard, I know. Adheek has faced the same rule initially, as have all other worlds. But, we have succeeded, and we want to help you.”
A Tourim had entered the room and had heard Kilet’s last words. He belonged to a mountain community in Adheek, and Tasha had met him in the last month at the request of Don Mariano, who had convinced their leader to send a delegation to the Earth mountain cultures, two years ago, and since then, traders had been going back and forth. The Tourim was a tall man with an eagle nose and was dressed in shining silk garb. Tasha had been fascinated by the members of the community, how they had mixed simple life and advanced technology, and how this isolated group had become a leading trading consortium on the planet.
Kilet turned toward the newcomer, rising along with Don Mariano to greet him. Tasha followed suit automatically.
The Guild Master nodded in a strangely stern voice. “Welcome, Tourimkar.” Tasha glanced at the ambassador close to her. He was smiling openly. The Tourimkar was the highest representative of the Tourim community in the capital city.
“Thank you, Trade Master. I’m happy to join you.”
“I am honored to be your host, Tourimkar. This is your home for tonight.”
“We’re honored to share a moment with you.” Don Mariano seemed genuinely impressed. Tasha remembered how hard it had been for the Ambassador to meet this man. If Kilet ran the trade above the planet, the Tourimkar ran it on Adheek.
Kilet turned toward Tasha and Don Mariano. “My son, Sonter, is leaving today for the central Starpilot Academy on Alkath. I would like a last evening together. Can you excuse me while I let you converse with our honored visitor?”
Before they could answer, he was already out of the room and Tasha and Don Mariano were alone with the Tourim representative. Tasha wondered at Kilet’s sudden disappearance. Her friend Brian had explained the quarrels Sonter, one of their fellow students at the Starpilot Academy, had had with his father, and she was surprised
Kilet would leave the room to dine with his son.
The Tourimkar sat at their side, his ease indicating this was not the first time he had used the private lodge of the Trade Master. Behind him, fireworks brightened the sky.
“Dear Ambassador, Pilot!” the Tourimkar said, “I’ll be direct. We’d like you to succeed. No one wants another Filb.” The planet had gone rogue and crumbled upon itself. It would now take millennia to recover. “We have a gift for you. An Ancient computer our forebears found in a derelict energy plant in the mountains.”
Don Mariano had explained to Tasha how many planets still bore Ancient ruins and how their populations sometimes used them. All Ancient artefacts found after Contact were the property of the Federation, according to the Charter signed by all planets. After Contact.
“It could help you to a tremendous degree to run your station. It performed that miracle for us initially.” The Tourimkar handed Tasha a heavy wallet.
“Why? Why this gift? What’s the cost of it?” Don Mariano asked intently.
Tasha didn’t like gifts when running her business. Too often, they had strings attached.
“Just one. That one day you’ll help another planet. This console was lent to Pelor and has come back, now that everything is fine with them. You must agree not to hold this console forever but, to the contrary, to share it. Don’t make any mistakes. This isn’t the strongest one that exists, but it’s a thousand times more powerful than current computers. It can make a difference for you. Don’t lose it, use it well, and keep your planet in the Federation.”
With Kilet absent, no one from the Federation was witnessing the agreement. These were only the words of two representatives, face to face.
“And if we don’t?”
“Accidents happen, Ambassador. This gift is free, and it will remain as such for all.” The Tourimkar’s voice was as cold as the mountain from which he came.
