by Rick Partlow
Tommy Caldwell cleared his throat, shrugging an apology, whether to me or to God, I wasn’t sure.
“If we admit to our allies that we let the Chinese steal a starship, the whole coalition we’ve built over the last year could fall apart due to lack of confidence. At a minimum, we’d lose most of western Europe.”
“Do we need them?” I wondered. Garcia winced at the remark and I think it offended his diplomat’s sensibilities.
“Maybe not,” Crenshaw admitted. “But I’d like to have them, anyway.”
“We’re putting everyone’s lives at risk,” Garcia pointed out, spreading his hands. “Everyone on the planet. If we don’t achieve a consensus, we could justifiably be seen as dictators, using the new technologies we traded for to rule the Earth instead of helping it.”
“Exactly,” the President agreed. “And while I have always been an advocate for this country, by agreeing to help the Alliance, I’ve made myself…” he shrugged. “…perhaps arrogated myself, as the other party likes to say, into a representative for the whole planet, for all of humanity. And they didn’t vote for me, nor are they likely to have the chance any time soon. So, I have to do what I can to keep their trust.”
“By lying to them,” I said, cocking an eyebrow.
“Well, Andy,” he said, chuckling, “welcome to politics.”
“Speaking of trust,” Olivera said, “we have another problem. The conference.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” I moaned, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. “I forgot about that.”
That was why Garcia’s promotion had been pushed through, to replace Delia Strawbridge. We were scheduled to meet the other races of the Alliance for the formal vote on our acceptance into the organization in just two weeks.
I think. There were some complicated spacetime coordinates involved that I didn’t understand and never bothered with, but the upshot was, we had to be there in two weeks of our time, give or take.
“Under no circumstances,” Garcia said, with a lot more authority and gravitas than I’d heard from him so far, “can we even hint to the Helta or the other races of the Alliance that we have internal divisions or that any Earth nation is even thinking of dealing with the Tevynians.” He speared me with a glare and I wondered what I’d done to deserve it. “None of us. Not officially, not unofficially, not between friends, nothing. If this gets out, even the Helta might not back us. Which wouldn’t just mean we’d lose out on their technical aid and support, it would also mean that the Chinese and the Russians would have an inside road to the only game in town.” He chuckled humorlessly. “And if any of you have doubts about the United States being in control of the fate of the whole world, consider how much less you’d like it if the Russians and the Chinese were the ones calling the tune.”
“You’re very pragmatic for someone from Foggy Bottom,” I observed.
“Thank you,” he said, perhaps sarcastic or perhaps mistakenly believing I’d paid him a compliment.
“One crisis at a time,” the President declared with a finality that told everyone the meeting was at an end. “Get me back that ship.”
***
I hesitated with my finger hovering over the call button on my phone and glanced around the cabin of the V-22 Osprey transport. Olivera was immersed in some report on his tablet and Julie was curled up in the seat beside me, sleeping. I had ear buds in, so the call should be fairly private, and no one was watching. I touched the screen and waited.
It rang for a good ten seconds, and I had started to worry that I was calling at a bad time. Was it a school day? Hell, what month was it? I’d come straight from an interstellar mission, had two days to prep for the trip to the Ukraine, from there to Caracas, from Caracas to San Antonio, and now back to Idaho and then orbit. I’d lost track of just about everything.
The screen switched from the call display to the face of a teenager, a face very much like my own, though with touches of his mother.
“Hey Dad!” he said, his eyes lighting up. “I didn’t think I was going to hear from you!”
“Yeah, I’ve been kind of busy,” I admitted. “I’m actually about to head out again. But I wanted to call before I did, just to see how you were doing.” I nodded toward his image on the screen. “Got a haircut, huh?”
It had been shaggy, almost to his shoulders the last time I’d seen him in Austin. Now it was almost regulation.
“Yeah,” he said. “A lot of the kids are getting it cut shorter now.” He snorted. “Mom says it’s because of the, and I’m quoting her now, ‘new militarism’ because of the war with the Tevynians. Anyway, Gina likes it.” He ran a hand across the short, buzzed sides.
“Gina?” I raised an eyebrow. “What happened to Laura?”
“You know how it goes.” He shrugged. “We decided we weren’t having fun, so we broke up.”
“You sure it was ‘we’ who decided?” I said, laughing.
“Okay,” he admitted. “She decided. But Gina is way cooler. She likes the same games I do, and she even wants to start going to the MMA gym with me.”
“She does sound cool,” I agreed. “Anyway, I just wanted to check in and make sure you were doing okay. How’s school?”
“It’s fine. I mean, I hate my English teacher. She keeps going on and on about politics in class, and she knows who you are and she doesn’t like your books.”
“I didn’t exactly write them for English teachers. But don’t let her get to you. You’ve got to worry about your grade, not whether she likes you or not. If you don’t, your mom will make you go to that tutor again and I know how much you loved spending your afternoons at the library.”
“Yeah, I know.” He sighed and rolled his eyes in that way only a teenager can do. “I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will, son. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Dad.”
“Hey, uh…” I hesitated. This was the part where I could get into serious trouble. “Could I talk to Paul real quick?”
Zack shrugged.
“Sure, hold on a sec. I think he’s out in the backyard.”
The view on the phone swung around fast enough that I looked away to avoid getting motion sickness. When it finally settled down again, the well-manicured green of Paul Franklin’s backyard came into focus and a conversation between Zack and his stepfather buzzed just out of my hearing. When Paul’s distinguished yet rugged face filled the screen, I had to remind myself again that Allie and I hadn’t been married for several years and I should not be jealous.
“Hey there, Andy,” Paul said. Sweat beaded his forehead and he was wearing a baseball cap, which I’d never seen him do before. “Just doing some yardwork.”
“You do it yourself?” I asked, honestly surprised. “I figured a place that large, you’d have a landscaping crew come out.”
“Eh, it’s relaxing.” He pulled off his hat and wiped the back of his arm across his forehead. “What’s up?”
I chewed on my lip for a second. I’d thought about asking for Allie, but despite the fact that the two of us had made peace after years of unholy acrimony, I felt like Paul would be more likely to listen to me.
“Paul, you have a place out in Wyoming, right?”
“Idaho,” he corrected me. “Close to the Wyoming border. Swan Valley. Not too far from Jackson Hole.”
“You know, I was thinking, it might be a great time for you to take the family and visit Swan Valley.”
“What?” His face screwed up in confusion. “Why would….” Realization hit him between the eyes, followed quickly by an ashen wash of fear. “Are you…are you sure?”
Was I sure? Damned good question.
“I’m sure that very soon, a lot of people are going to wish they had a vacation house in the middle of nowhere. And a good stock of food and water. And some guns, if you have them and know how to use them.”
“Shit.” He nodded. “I know you’re probably not supposed to be telling me this, so I won’t ask anything else. But thanks. Tha
nks for letting me know.”
“You’re a good man, Paul.” And those were some words I never expected myself to say a few years ago, when I first found out Allie had remarried a real estate magnate. “Take care of Zack for me, okay?” Paul smiled wanly, but I could see the strength in his eyes.
“I’ll take care of him for both of us.”
I ended the call, then squeezed my eyes shut. They hurt, the way they always did when I went too long without sleep. I felt a touch on my shoulder and they snapped open again. Julie was awake. I wondered for how long, but the expression on her face told me.
“I know,” I said, “I shouldn’t have—” She stopped me with a finger across my lips and a gentle smile.
“I called my ex three hours ago,” she told me. “His parents have a place on Kuai. They’re going there until I tell them it’s okay.” I cast a wary glance at Olivera, but he still seemed totally involved in whatever was on his tablet screen.
“Are we bad people?” I asked her. “I mean, everyone is in danger, not just our families.”
“And we’re the ones going out to stop it.” She put her hand over mine and squeezed. “So we get to be human.”
I leaned back into my seat and she rested her head against my shoulder and I finally, inexorably fell asleep.
Chapter Five
“Do we have to call it HD 196761?” I asked, watching the main viewscreen, waiting for it to show me something. “I mean, that’s the scientific designation, but we call most of these stars and planets by the Helta name. Don’t we have one for this star?”
I could have sat down. The bridge had a couple of seats engineered to handle the Svalinn armor, but I’d found through experience that I didn’t need to. There was a trick to locking the magnetic soles to the deck, letting the hips sway backwards just a couple degrees and then freezing the lower joints in place and then just leaning back and letting the armor do all the work. I had my helmet off because I knew I’d be wearing it for hours once we jumped into the system and I wanted to enjoy the recycled shipboard air a while longer before I had to breathe recycled suit air.
Olivera glanced back at me from the command station, looking a bit annoyed, though I wasn’t sure if it was at the admittedly inane question or because when I stood behind him like this, I seemed to be perpetually looking over his shoulder .
“If they do,” he informed me, “they neglected to tell us. I’m sure if you have any suggestions, the Space Force and the Coalition will give them all the consideration they deserve.”
I laughed softly. He was being prickly, but he knew me well enough by now to realize that would only encourage me.
“Well, you can’t just slap a name on a star without seeing it,” I reasoned. “That’s why most of the time we’re using the Helta names, right? Because they’ve been there? I mean, look at the names we have for stars. The only ones that sound cool are the Latinized Greek ones, like Alpha Centauri and Tau Ceti and Epsilon Eridani. The rest just sound like someone put a random bunch of numbers and letters into a blender. Which was fine when all we were doing was looking at them through radio telescopes, but now we’re visiting. You can’t just call a place you’re about to attack ‘HD 196761.’ It’s gotta have some character.”
“Tell you what, Andy,” Julie said, her tone lighter—she was more prone to banter than Olivera, “you’re gonna have about ten minutes from the time we translate through the wormhole before you have to get down to the shuttles. If you can think up a good name for this place then, I promise I’ll call the star that from now on.” She wrinkled her nose. “Even to the President.”
“Oh, I so want to be there for that,” Colonel Dani Brooks said.
She was in her armor as well, but she stuck with the modified seats, a stickler for the book like most Ranger officers. Her face was hard and angular, her dark hair short and tightly curled, which now that I think about, it could also have described her personality when I first met her. She’d loosened up a bit as we’d gotten to know each other, though there seemed to be a physical limit on how far a Ranger could loosen up.
“Yeah, how come you got to skip this last meeting?” I challenged her. “I mean, much as I appreciate somehow being important enough to meet with the President every time there’s some threat to the existence of humanity and all, it would be nice if I didn’t have to represent the ground pounders and door kickers all by my lonesome.” I raised a hand in quick apology. “Sorry, I forgot that Colonel Nieves has been officially granted honorary ground pounder/door kicker status after our last operation.”
“Oh, you can keep that shit all to yourself,” Julie told me, not joking this time. “There’s a reason I’m a pilot and part of the reason is that I didn’t want to carry a rifle or get shot at.” Her attention went back to the helm readout and her fingers danced across the controls. “Ten seconds till translation.”
“Battle stations,” Olivera intoned and touched a control on his arm console. A red warning light flashed and a klaxon sounded, a muted whooping. “We don’t know what’s waiting for us here,” he said, his voice carried around the ship by the PA system. “Be prepared for a quick micro-jump if we run into enemy cruisers.”
I used to know the names and backgrounds of every one of the bridge crew, but they’d been switched out three times now with people training for other ships, for their own commands, and I couldn’t have told you a thing about any of them except Julie. She’d told me Olivera wanted her to accept the position as his XO to prepare her to command her own ship, but she’d rejected it out of hand.
“I’m a pilot,” she’d insisted, “not a boat captain. I don’t even feel entirely comfortable at the controls of something as big as the Jambo, but at least I’m steering her.”
As a once-divorced man, I had learned when to keep my mouth shut, but in the privacy of my own head, I had my doubts as to how long she’d be able to get away with that. The military has a way of putting you where they think you’re needed, your own feelings in the matter notwithstanding, which was how I had wound up where I was.
“Translating.”
Jumping in and out of hyperspace was a psychically bruising experience. The eggheads had set up every possible instrument to measure the physical effects of the translation, but hadn’t come up with anything they could point to on an instrument. We all knew there was an effect, though, and it wasn’t just psychological, despite what the doctors said. It felt as if my consciousness—I was tempted to say my soul—was being stretched between two universes, just about to break before it snapped back to reality. It always felt like I stepped into my brain en media res, not like I’d been unconscious, but more like I’d been too distracted to pay attention for the first couple seconds after the jump. When I did, I heard the tactical officer shouting.
“Proximity warning!” He was a big man, big enough I would have expected him to be wrapped in Svalinn armor, fighting alongside the Rangers, but I guess there are no height limits for the Navy. I thought his name was Davis, but I wouldn’t have sworn to it without sneaking a look at his uniform name tape. “We have four…no, six enemy vessels within one light-second!”
The main screen switched to the tactical display and we could all see what Davis was looking at, a half a dozen globular shapes, burning in at us on flares of harnessed fusion. I didn’t need him to tell me what they were—the reaction drives showed that immediately. But he announced it anyway because it was in his job description.
“They’re not cruisers, they’re all conventional in-system, short-range defense boats, the kind the Tevynians make out of converted Helta freight haulers. I’m not picking up any active warp signatures in the system. If they have any cruisers here, they aren’t using them at the moment. The defense boats were probably in Lunar orbit when we jumped. About five minutes until they’re in range. Of their weapons, I mean. We could destroy all of them right now with the impulse gun.”
Olivera didn’t respond to that, just touched a control and shoved the tactical display
into half of the main viewscreen, filling the rest with an image of the G-class star’s one habitable planet, which was labeled with the unimaginative and clunky appellation “HD 196761-II.” It was what I’d come to expect from the habitable worlds we’d encountered, not terribly different from Earth at first glance because if it had been radically different, it likely wouldn’t have been habitable. Blues and greens, a smattering of white, strips of brown desert. More land than Earth, I thought, or maybe it was simply that the water was scattered in dozens of inland seas rather than gathered into major oceans.
I could make out a single moon, a bit smaller than our own, its shading darker, and I wondered if that meant it had more heavy minerals in it and less silica. All habitable worlds had moons as far as we knew, and if the Elders had indeed terraformed most of them then they’d also provided them with the satellites necessary to maintain an ecosystem. Just the thought of a race of beings advanced enough to haul a moon from one part of a system to another for shits and giggles made me want to wet my pants.
“We’re ten light-seconds from HD 196761-II,” Julie supplied.
“They have weapons platforms in high orbit,” Davis cautioned. “I think maybe on the surface of that moon, too. Some sort of heavy industry there, and a bunch of thermal signatures.”
“That many defense boats,” Olivera murmured, cracking his knuckles in a nervous tic, “if they fire in concert, they could overload our shields. Which would bring down the drive field. Can’t just bull our way through this one.”
“I think they’re attempting to hail us, sir,” the communications officer said. Lieutenant…something-or-other. She was short and blond and I hadn’t said a single word to her since she’d reported for duty, but the way she delivered that announcement made me sure she was a science fiction fan, because there was no way someone who hadn’t grown up watching SF TV shows would have used that turn of phrase. “Do you want me to put it through to you?”
“Put it on the main screen,” Olivera ordered, sounding more curious than afraid. Me, I was getting a little nervous and would have been happier if he’d put some distance between us and those enemy ships. True, they weren’t shooting yet, but these things tended to jump off without warning. “Don’t reply yet. Just want to see it.”
