by F Stephan
“How large would it be?” asked Wilfried.
“An ovoid of thirty yards by twenty. It would need water to work.”
Wilfried laughed before rising. “In a full solar system, you want me to find a needle like that.”
She remained seated. “Yes, exactly that. That’s your job. And removing this revenue will protect your darling’s interests as well.”
He was now by the door. “My darling?”
Observer Althal grinned. “You’ve got to mind your priorities. Did you talk to her already?”
Wilfried blushed and nodded.
“Good. You did, finally. At last, we part with happier news. Find those scums and throw them out of your solar system.”
Susanna
Middle China, Sydney, December 18, 2140
Susanna wore a discreet black gown which highlighted her blond hair. On her arm, Illyam, the New Mexico Spaceport Manager, was perfect in his dark business suit. Sad and mourning, their two faces shared the same sorrow. Alongside them, all Federation personnel had come for the funeral of Kris, the latest victim of the terrorists. Nashiz’al’Naram wore a yellow golden robe in the manner of his people. Tall and golden, he stood out among the crowd, a reminder of the foreigners among them.
A crowd of mourners had joined the ceremony. Kris had been immensely popular, the Earth director of the first Space Academy. His pupils had flocked from all around the world to gather at his funeral. Let this show their lack of respect for Earth and its people! Unfair? Maybe, but damn good.
At the head of the procession, Anaru led the way toward the cemetery. Directly behind him came Li Bao, the poor desolate thing, and then the current students and teachers of the Academy. All were protected by security forces.
“Illyam, Susanna. How do you fare?” Killian Lacazette stopped beside them. Susanna didn’t know what to make of him. He had been her first boyfriend, before her family had rejected her, before her world had crumbled. Their history was full of fond memories until he allied himself with the little Russian brat.
“We’re very saddened by the loss of our dear teacher.” The answer was cool, betraying her lack of emotions.
“After he refused you to go to Adheek, you may have held a certain grudge.”
Susanna’s heart tightened in her chest. He knows. She had seduced a teacher to be sure to get selected. Kris had found out and expelled her on the spot. I was already chosen. Even without this stratagem, I was going.
“You can’t be mad at a victim. Sniper shot from the old bridge while he attended a ceremony for all the victims of the typhoon season. What a shame.”
Attacking one of the few loved people in the space operation had been risky, a risk her allies should never uncover, because it had brought back some support to the station. Support will dwindle soon, and now I’m avenged. Goodbye, Kris.
“Indeed, it is. His loss will hurt all of us. You should have seen how angered Isabel and Laureen were when the news came. They were so upset we had to stop the session. I wouldn’t want to be the poor sod who did him in. Some of their friends will be looking out for him.” Killian quickly handed her a small sheet of paper. A list of names written by hand. Upper-class people dead from all around the world. She knew many of those families personally. All suspicious deaths. She had wondered about some. She looked at Killian who returned the gaze. “Well, I must join Mister President. It was nice seeing you. You look lovelier than ever.”
Killian moved quickly through the crowd, like a serpent in the jungle. Why are you warning me? Can you possibly like me after all this time?
Yet a warning it had been. Had she hidden all her tracks carefully enough? He couldn’t prove anything, or he wouldn’t have simply ‘talked’. And yet. Why had he chosen this time to meet her? Her new allies had approached her for a deeper service, something more engaging. She sighed. She would have to accept.
Anaru
Geneva Governmental Complex, December 22, Sydney
The lake was dark and foreboding when Anaru raised the mainsail, casting off from the wharf. Silent and menacing, two hovercraft monitored the ship from a distance, guns and lasers turrets pivoting to cover the town, the compound, and the Alps above.
“Anaru, four new deaths since Kris was shot. Three Marines injured protecting them. We can’t continue like this. We’re targets. My people are being targeted deliberately.” Nashiz was at the helm, a consummate sailor, like many from his planet. Anaru was unfurling the foresail with the weasel-faced Yasmina Iakoubi. Commander Grayt had just finished initializing the scrambling shields around them.
Yasmina intervened. “The CPC has prioritized all of our actions against those terrorists. All my field agents are on it and I’ve got cooperation from police forces around the world.”
Anaru was listening intently, not committing himself to the discussion.
“Chief, I know all the work you’re doing, and Commander Grayt appreciates your work and methods. So, with all your efforts, I’ve got to assume we face an opponent with deep connections within Earth governments. Probably the puppet master of EarthFirst, whoever he is.”
“We should expose this puppet master.” Nashiz’s deep voice brought an eerie silence to the boat for a few minutes. “We’ve evidence of deep intervention. Make a public appearance and show the connection. Let your people know they are being manipulated.”
I couldn’t. That would be too threatening for most governments. But the Commander could. And that would give a good kick into the hornet’s nest. Worth a try.
A chill wind had risen over the lake and ripples appeared on the surface. Anaru kept watching for signs of a tornado. Within the small confines of the lake, it would be deadly. Nashiz set the boat on a straight course for the opposite shore as the Chief dropped the net behind them. They had become efficient at this routine, a small respite in the stressful weeks.
The Commander continued, “My Marines are becoming agitated. They want to strike back and avenge their comrade. Waiting is hard on morale. I won’t be able to keep them quiet for long.”
“But I need more time!” the Chief answered agitatedly. The emotion in her voice was a clear sign of how bad the situation was.
“Well, I’ve got no other choices if you need time.” Nashiz was meditative. “I’m calling all my people back to protect the compounds until you can restore order.”
Anaru broke his silence for the first time. “It’s going to further isolate you and us from public opinion, while that journalist, that Susanna, is running her show around the world.”
“I know. We’re playing into their hands. I also know they’ll take over the control of Acheron, eventually. We’ve got to act earlier than they expect, before we’re cornered.”
“This is their purpose. They want you out,” the President said sadly, ashamed at his own planet.
For the first time, a little mirth colored the Envoy’s answer. “You know, the Federation was founded when a prince of my people was exiled from his country because he was suggesting progress and disturbing order. Moving on is part of our DNA.” He launched his first line into the lake, ready to fish. “Now, here is my proposal for the coming months.”
Leopold
Space station Acheron, December 22, 2140
The crowd waited, their exhaustion palpable. The 3D printer would allow them to produce their own spare parts and would change their lives forever. If they could make it work. Tasha waited in the main cafeteria, once again negotiating supplies from her different contractors.
Leopold turned toward Reiner, who was sitting quietly on a crate. “What is Kimi doing? She has been gone for an hour now.”
“She has to sneak through one floor, two ventilation grids and the back of the plant for the repair. Cut her some slack. Andrew reported she is on her way.”
Leopold heard workers muttering behind him and glowered at them. They looked subdued, but Leopold could sense their anxiety and anger. Food was short, mostly rations, water was stale, and progress slow. It didn�
��t make for a fun atmosphere in the station. Fortunately, the repeated attacks had bonded all workers together in resistance.
The assembled 3D printer was huge, taking up most of the module. On one side, they had direct access from the airlock to bring in metal nuggets. They would feed the beast with those and get out the largest pieces she would turn. A monitoring console had been installed in an isolated room. For now, the connection between the two didn’t work. Without this, it was entirely useless.
Suddenly, the whole machine buzzed and hummed. The crowd cheered loud and shouts of “Hurray!” echoed in the hall. Engineers moved to the console, taking their chairs with them, and launched the first print of a small part.
An hour later, a laughing team returned to the main hall, bringing its prize with them.
In the small adjoining room, Maricar, Jeanne, Leopold, and Tasha met for a private war council.
“Today is our greatest achievement,” Maricar began, a rare smile on her lips.
Tasha was looking down, twisting her fingers. “While you were working on the printer, I received an urgent call from the President.”
“The NorAm Alliance has cut our budget? Again?” The debate over the last week had left little doubt in Leopold’s mind that the vote would go against the station. The European confederacy would align and so would the rest of the world.
Tasha nodded. “Yes, EarthFirst has gained a lot of headway with NorAm key officials in the last months. All our supporters are hiding.”
“Any news on who’s leading them?” Jeanne seemed more curious than surprised.
“No. The Grand Master, as he is now called, remains in the shadow.” Tasha paused, searching for words. “There’s worse. They also pressured the CenAm Directorate into following them. And the Last Caliphate will use this as a pretext to reduce their funding. In a month, we won’t have any budget remaining.
Leopold was stunned by the growing lack of support. “We can’t work without budget and we all know it. What are the official reasons?”
“In the press conference, two were used. Acheron is now running, and it should cover its costs on itself.”
Maricar blurted, “We’ve fought this idea for a year now. We haven’t finished our work yet. The station is running, but only on three legs.”
“Still, that’s true enough to be convincing,” Tasha replied. “They want to reallocate all funds to save the bees.”
Leopold was unsettled by this argument. “Will they do it for real?”
Jeanne answered, taking over from Tasha. “Yes and no. Yes, they will do it. Leopold, over the last decade, we have invested billions in that research. Reducing the budget for the station won’t be enough to make any difference to what has already been spent. In the end, it won’t help Earth where it matters. But for now, our budget’s dry.”
“Can’t we talk about the missions we sent?”
“No, not until the bees are back and proven fit. Tasha, if Mathias doesn’t come back, or if he returns and his bees don’t adapt to our ecosphere, the planet will be on fire. If we prove our worth, you’ll get all the funding you wish for. But you have to keep working on your own until then.”
Tasha took several minutes to think over the words, holding her breath unconsciously. Then she let out a deep sigh. “In that case, we must raise funds differently and outside governmental funds. Let me make some calls. It’s time to see if our planet wants the station to continue working or not.”
Boris
Siberia, December 23, 2140
Sacha ran in the exercise ground. Fresh snow had fallen the night before and the trees were all white-capped. From all Boris had learned of their past, Siberia looked this morning as it had immemorial ages ago, before global warming had transformed the place into the biggest swamp on Earth.
“She’s getting better. An hour for the whole course. We didn’t do much better in our time.” Sacha reached them and Igor yelled, “Go, Sacha, go!”
At his side, Boris held his old-fashioned chrono in his hand, monitoring the morning training. “From all we read, she can do a lot better than this. We need to push her.” He raised his megaphone. “Tasha, half again the course.”
“Are you sure?” She signaled with her hand and increased her speed.
“Yes. There’s no other way if she is to survive the second injection.” Boris jogged to the other end of the course, checking on his daughter. She seemed fine, climbing, crawling, and jumping over the obstacles. He consulted his chrono. She’s getting better.
Suddenly she fell, clutching her hand, hiding it beneath her body. Boris ran to kneel beside her. She turned and he saw her hand had blurred. It had become a bloated, uncontrollable claw.
“Come on, Sacha. Focus. Focus. Remember our exercises.” He retrieved an energy bar, feeding her. He couldn’t look at her hand. Did we release a monster? How deep is it lurking in her?
Sacha was fighting to restore the shape of her hand. Igor had brought the anti-nanite grenade and watched over them with Maritschka.
“Good, you’re winning. Continue.” Slowly, Boris encouraged Sacha until her hand became normal again. Igor hid the grenade and smiled at the young girl. Maritschka rushed and cradled her weeping daughter, guiding her back toward their home.
“Was it a mistake? Did we fail her?” asked Boris softly when they were out of earshot.
“Boris, you’ve got to trust her. She’s improving day by day. She has gained some weight again.” Igor said the last words as if they changed everything, and in a way, they did. Sacha had been losing the battle against leukemia for the last three years, becoming thinner and weaker every week. Now, she was a fit young woman again. “From all we could ascertain, she would have been selected by the Federation. She fits all the criteria they require.”
They had worked with all known parameters, comparing her profile with the students chosen for the Academy. The next worldwide selection wasn’t due for another four years, but according to all reports they could find, she would be selected. If she’s still alive!
“Assumptions only. Hypothesis. Nothing is sure. What if we are wrong and she cannot manage the nanites? What should we do?”
“Celebrate, my friend. Your daughter is alive and kicking. Maybe tomorrow she won’t be. But you don’t live tomorrow. You live today, and today she needs you. So, smile as if she’s going to get through.”
“Yesterday Maritschka completed the analysis of the last blood samples.” A simple sentence, clearly stated. Silence fell as Sacha disappeared into the house.
They had gone through battles together, and worse even, the waiting, before. Boris knew what his friend wasn’t able to say. “They’re not what you expected. This is why you prepare her for the second syringe.”
“Yes. In the Federation, they wait for a full year with adults before they go for it. We won’t be able to wait more than a month.”
“You’re not telling me everything. What else?” Igor had turned toward him, watching his face. Boris hadn’t slept during the previous night, and his sunglasses wouldn’t hide his red eyes for long.
“From her simulations, we may need a third injection before summer.”
“It goes too fast. You’ll need the help of the Federation.” The Federation had an absolute monopoly on these syringes, and their illegality meant life imprisonment, or worse, for having them. Boris didn’t mind that – he had had a plain life. But all they had done would amount to nothing if they couldn’t complete the course of injections, and he couldn’t condemn Maritschka by his decisions.
“Our former employers, or the Federation?” asked Igor.
“I trust neither.” Boris waited for a few moments before adding, “Last month, Anton sent me news of Roman. The Podorovski daughter is a Federation pilot.”
“Natalya Podorovski? Her father was a shrewd one, that’s certain. Roman can be trusted. My son has been working for him for ten years now. He runs a good organization.”
Boris nodded. The father and the security officer wer
e good men. But who is their daughter? Can I trust her with my daughter’s life?
Andrew
Space station Acheron, December 31, 2040
The New Year party was sedate, given that the station was deprived of fresh food. Everything had become so scarce that the hidden distilleries were barely functioning. Leopold was telling jokes to anyone around him, and Andrew launched a few unsuccessful toasts. Maricar, Kimi, and Reiner were mingling with the crowd, talking to as many people as they could. All afternoon there had been talks of a strike, and Andrew didn’t know, and couldn’t predict, how his fellow crew members would react to the night’s celebrations.
At last, Tasha walked to the center of the cafeteria. Andrew gasped. She wore a dark formal gown with a single diamond shining around her neck. She was holding the arm of Wilfried, who also wore a dark suit. They were a stunning couple, and the sight cheered the crowd around him.
“Speech, speech, speech…”
Tasha raised her hand and, as if she was a queen, silence fell. Two large 3Ds rose from the ground on either side of the cafeteria, and the crew hurried out of the projection field. Kalgoorlie Station appeared in the first 3D, showing everyone wearing their best uniforms and with musical instruments in their hands. A concert? Live in space? The other 3D showed the little crew of the moon base, toasting and cheering. In contrast, their tunics were smudged with lunar dust, their faces grey from cleaning, but they had large smiles.
At last, a regal Jeanne de Savigny joined Tasha at the center of the room. Cries of “Hurray” welcomed her. Suddenly, a toast came from the cargo loaders: “Queen mother and heiress.” Trust a spider. But they are right. Jeanne has led us so far. And now Tasha.
“Thank you, Tasha, for inviting me here. And thank you all for your welcome. I’m proud to be back in space among you.”
