Unknown

by Microsoft Office User

  “My name is Dr. Adam Linnaeus Smith. For reasons of security that you will shortly come to understand, I cannot divulge the origin of this transmission, and you will discover that it will not be possible for the Andorran's tracking system to detect the origin. I ask that you do not even try.”

  The paranoia that nearly overcome Lara when she confronted Miguel now overwhelmed her, but this time she knew it was justified. Like the others around her, the faces of whom were quickly becoming flush, she realized something was indeed very wrong about this. Dr. Smith continued:

  “Before I proceed, I want all of you to know just how much respect, admiration and love we have for you. Your arrival truly is a wonderful event, and we believe it will have a dramatic and lasting effect upon history. However, I do not believe it would be appropriate to mislead you at this juncture. My friends of Andorran, you have returned to an Earth that does not resemble the one you left behind. And on this Earth, your very existence will be endangered as soon as you set foot upon it.”

  Peter bowed his head, mumbled, “Oh, damn. I knew it.”

  “In the multi-stream that has been provided beneath this message, you will find detailed information outlining the major events of the past 34 years, as well as maps and statistical arrays to document the Earth as it today. But I shall sum up the most important facts. Nations as you once knew them no longer exist. They are but geographic regions with larger entities. These entities are economic cooperatives, and the six of them control 99 percent of the world's landmass. They are each far more dominant than any national superpower in history.

  “Each is run by a corporate structure, and the flow of all currency and all goods throughout the world is very tightly controlled. None of these cooperatives wanted you to return. The primary goal of the Pan American Community, the cooperative inside which my group is based, is to see to your quick and efficient deaths. As I speak to you, we have an ongoing operation designed to destroy the PAC's single orbital vessel capable of reaching you. We believe we can succeed. Either way, we are in the process of launching our own craft, which should rendezvous with Andorran in due course.

  “You may remember that at the time of your departure, there was a great uprising against the further exploration and colonization of space. Those feelings only intensified after your departure. The specific reasons behind them are discussed at greater length in the layers beneath this greeting. But in the year following your departure, there was increasing chaos throughout the world, and the rebellions did not end for several years, until the economic cooperatives were locked into place in their current form. It pains me to tell you this, because I believe you must be told how most of your fellow citizens will feel upon your return.

  “The cooperatives have carried out a quiet, systematic purge of most of the world's leading advocates of the colonial program over the past 25 years. ASTROcom is a footnote in history, and the creator of your ship, Richard Kreveld, was himself assassinated shortly after your departure.”

  Tears welled up in Lara, and saw a stream of water running down Miguel's cheek. Fran bowed her head in her hands.

  “Those of us who have survived the purge and believe in a future other than what the cooperatives have in store, now are gathering our forces as best we can. We still pose little threat to creating instability. But we believe your return can signal a new dawn. There are many, many people in this world who want very much to return to an era where personal freedoms were the law of our lives, and where man could explore without boundaries. It is our hope that your return, and the information you bring, could be the start of that era.

  “You will find an encryption transmit code within the additional data we have provided so you may acknowledge receipt of this message.

  “We're coming for you, Andorran. Be patient. Have hope. We love you all."

  The end of the message brought numbing silence to the command deck, but one that did not last long. Only about five seconds, in fact.

  “I'll be damned!” Peter shouted through gritted teeth and violently kicked a swivel onto its side. “Thirty-four years to come back to this. Well, goddammit, the doctor had it right.” He looked at the others. “You remember? She called it. She said it was just possible that they weren't talking to us because they just didn't want us to return.”

  Lara never saw her American colleague in this state, but she did not fault him for his outburst.

  “Perhaps it would have been better if Fyal had beaten us here,” Boris said softly, and righted the overturned swivel, then fell back into the seat. “They would have had use for us.”

  Fran muffled a sarcastic but obviously agreeing laugh. “I suppose we drank all that champagne earlier?”

  Miguel walked to the forward command console and stared out upon this planet that, in a matter of minutes, became arguably as alien as Centauri III.

  “Are we sure this is not trick?” Boris asked no one in particular, but several pairs of eyebrows raised. “Could it be possible that man who spoke to us is one we should really fear?”

  “That's a point to consider,” Peter added. “Maybe we're not up against the whole fucking planet. What if all this information we've been given is revisionist? There could be some kind of war going on down there, some kind of power struggle, and these people with this Smith fellow are the ones coming to kill us.”

  “But they want us to trust them in meantime,” Boris continued.

  “I doubt ...” Miguel started, but was cut off by Fran.

  “No. Sorry, guys. I kind of wish you might be right. But I know Adam Smith. At least, I knew him for about five years before we left. What he describes is not only plausible given the way things were going in 2110, but the Adam Smith I knew would have been at the front lines to fight it all the way.”

  Peter shook his head. “Thirty-four years is a damn long time, Fran. Look at what the hell has happened down there. This Smith guy could have easily changed colors.”

  “No, Pete. Not a chance. Adam was a major proponent of deep-space colonization. He recognized that Earth would not be able to sustain a large human population for perhaps more than another 500 years. He understood that our ultimate survival depended upon the discovery of other habitable worlds. Damn, what that man must have gone through the past 30 years. Seeing what was happening to his colleagues.”

  Lara realized neither Peter nor Boris was totally convinced. And really, she wondered, did it matter? Whether Dr. Smith was telling the truth, one fact seemed clear: This crew would not be hailed as returning heroes. Moreover, this crew just might not return.

  Lara did not even try to add her own take on what they had just heard. There was no insight she could offer. Only numbness. So she was encouraged when Miguel finally took his attention off Earth and turned around to face his crew.

  “I would have to agree with Fran,” he started. “I did not know Dr. Smith well, but I am convinced by what he told us. It certainly stands to reason that if these enormous cooperatives, as he calls them, did not want to communicate with us, then it would be simple to arrange a worldwide net to jam our signal. I doubt a small underground group such as Dr. Smith's would be able to pull off such an effort.”

  “All right,” Peter bellowed. “So, where do we go from here?”

  “We face our situation,” Miguel said bluntly. “I realize that does not sound like much, but it is the best we can do. We have nowhere else to go. Our mission is ended, and Earth is our home. Obviously, our lives are not going to be what we expected, but then, this mission was nothing like what we expected. I think it is quite obvious from Dr. Smith's message that events should be happening quickly. He said a rescue craft would be launched in due course. We must assume a rendezvous within the next two to three hours. I believe we should analyze the multi-stream provided by Dr. Smith. Then I should prepare a brief acknowledgement on behalf of the crew. In the event something keeps us from reaching the planet, I will include a summation of what we know about the Fyal. After
that, well, I think it is quite obvious we should prepare for departure. Questions?”

  There were none, at least not immediately. Lara studied the calm and composure Miguel presented. Was this a mask? She knew that, almost certainly, this was a man who, having spent most of his life as a leader, was now trying to be just that once again. He would not dare show his own fears, his own disappointment.

  “Mifuro, perhaps we should proceed to the decoded layers and see what kind of data Dr. Smith has provided for us,” Miguel told the Japanese prince. “Mifuro?” He repeated, but the navigation officer did not respond.

  Lara realized Mifuro never spoke during all this, and now she saw a distant, desperate look in his eyes. He sat back casually in his swivel – again, not at all like this man.

  He finally looked up. “Yes, Captain. The files are here. Very easy to access. I request to be excused from the deck, Captain.”

  Miguel was befuddled, and before he could say yes, Mifuro stood up and was on his way to the SlipTube.

  “I'll be back shortly,” Mifuro said under his breath. Lara knew something was desperately wrong. At the very least, she saw some degree of emotion from Peter, Fran and Boris. Instinctively, she turned to Miguel.

  “Captain? May I go with him?” She said, starting for the Tube.

  “Yes.”

  Mifuro was standing on the G-stamp and the revolving door was slipping shut as she hurriedly stepped through. He ignored her.

  “Commons,” he told the computer.

  Lara tried to say something, but nothing came out. He never acknowledged her presence in the 35 seconds the Tube needed to get them to their destination.

  He headed straight into the Commons and proceeded to the galley, and Lara watched from a distance as he prepared tea. The process only took about 90 seconds, and when the piping hot liquid had filled the receptacle, Mifuro turned toward the black table in the middle of the Commons. He studied Lara, then stopped. He took a careful sip from the hot tea and did not look up at the woman.

  Lara was mystified. “Come. Sit down here,” she told him. When he seemed to hesitate again, she insisted. “We can talk about whatever it is. We're all hurting right now, Mifuro.”

  “Hmm,” he grunted. Or so Lara thought. She wasn't certain, but at least was satisfied that he did decide to join her.

  “I simply needed a moment to gather my thoughts. I ... I found myself tempted to respond the same way as Peter.”

  Never did she meet a man with such indomitable self-control. Even when they were together years ago during their rotation, the sex was procedural. Not totally without passion – simply lacking the deep emotional investment that can add to the intensity of the act.

  “Maybe you should have allowed yourself to become angry,” Lara said cautiously. “You keep everything inside, and I know it must weigh on you.”

  He jostled an eyebrow, and Lara thought the remark might have offended him. Good, she concluded. Maybe it will fire him up.

  “As I have told you before, Lara, I follow a very strict Imperial discipline. It has guided me throughout my life. It allows me to ...”

  “Yes, I know. It allows you to successfully experience everything from within without creating undue stress. And I don't believe in Imperial discipline. Do you realize how hard it has been for me to maintain my composure since Daniel died?”

  He quickly looked up at her.

  She continued. “I have had to discipline myself so that I will not break down in front of my crewmates, even though I have wanted to cry every ... every minute since.”

  She stopped herself and felt a tear coming on. “Having to restrain those emotions has been a nightmare. I have had very little sleep in the past few days, and I can feel my body collapsing under this weight. Daniel is at the front of my thoughts with every breath I take, and I don't know how much longer I can control this. So don't talk to me about Imperial discipline, Prince Nakahita. There is no discipline to squelch pain.”

  She couldn't sit. Instead, she studied the hot tea, realized that she was thirsty. She proceeded to the galley, combined water and powder, then energized the microbrewer.

  With less than 20 seconds to go in the percolation process, Mifuro finally spoke up from where he sat.

  “Japan is gone,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Smith said nations no longer exist. They are geographic regions within those cooperatives.” He turned toward her, and the percolation of the tea concluded. “Twenty-seven hundred years ago it began. It was not a politically united state at that time, but there was a genuine foundation. Jimmu was the first emperor. Now there will be no more.”

  Lara carried the receptacle gently and sat down next to Mifuro, sipped from her tea. She could feel the calming effect immediately.

  “I didn't realize the throne was so important to you. When you left Earth, you renounced your claim to it. I remember how you told me you were confident your people would forgive you.”

  “Yes, I did think so. At first. Eventually, I realized what I had done.”

  He paused. “And what was that?” Lara asked.

  “I betrayed them. All of them.” He turned to Lara, and she could see red in his eyes. It was more profound than a few moments ago. “Not just the ones of my generation, but all those before. I broke the only true continuity the Japanese people have known for more than two millennia. The throne was without real power, but it was a seat of symbolism so strong it alone could carry my country through every war, every Depression, every earthquake.” His voice stuttered, and he struggled to regain it.

  “I was Japan, and I betrayed all of my people simply so I would not betray my own desires. I did not have that right. And more than anything in my life, I wanted to return home and reclaim that throne, to repair whatever damage I caused.”

  “But you don't know that the people would have ...”

  “Would have allowed me to take the throne? Oh, yes. They would because they would understand the necessity. Lara, if I had stayed, the Japanese people would never have allowed their country to become a part of some economic monster. The emperor would have been their strength to fight that change and to stay as one nation.”

  And then she saw it. For the first time since he had boarded the Andorran – insofar as Lara knew – Mifuro Nakahita was crying. The tears unleashed down both cheeks, and his sharp, pointed chin was chattering.

  “So much is lost,” he said weakly. “I've known since we were only months into this mission the mistake I made. Since then, the only goal that has had meaning to me has been to restore to my people what I stole from them.”

  Lara never once suspected Mifuro carried this burden, and she felt a new bond to this man. It was not founded in what they had shared, but what they lost this day.

  “I understand,” she said. “I had a dream about my life on Earth, too. It's gone now.”

  “I know,” Mifuro whispered. Without bothering to wipe away his tears, he turned to Lara and looked her in the eyes, and she saw a frailty unveiling itself. There was something in those deep brown eyes that conveyed a truth revealing itself for the first time.

  “I loved him, too,” Mifuro said, and Lara felt her own tears building in intensity.

  She knew what he meant, and she also realized it should not have surprised her.

  “I knew of this during my rotation with him,” Mifuro continued. “Eight years ago.” He shook his head and quickly followed: “No, we weren't like that. I knew what Daniel wanted. What he preferred. And I never told him about my feelings. Which was as it should have been. Some things are inappropriate for a man such as myself.”

  Lara knew this was finally a moment when it would be all right to unleash her emotions before a crewmate. It was more than all right – it was necessary because Mifuro understood better than any others.

  She leaned over, kissed him on one cheek. “We'll miss him,” she whispered.

  They r
eached out for each other and found themselves in a hug.

  Neither of them wanted to let go.

  They were 50 minutes from home.

  50

  T

  he moment was solemn. It carried none of the ceremony that surrounded the departure of Janise Albright's tactical squad. In fact, the command pod of Second Sunrise was so silent as the orbital shuttle New Terra cleared the mountain 18 minutes late, that Adam Smith appreciated the humor delivered by Stephen Kreveld.

  “Now, listen up, folks!” The co-pilot announced from the shuttle cockpit. “We're gonna have some friends coming in tonight that ain't seen the first bit of good home cooking in about, oh, 34 years or such. What would folks in that kind of seat have a craving for? Myself, I'd tend to go with steak. Bigger the better. Now, I realize we're not gonna have anything like that. So, think hard on the subject, folks, but whatever you serve up: Don't forget dessert. Something sweet and creamy. We'll see you folks in a few.”

  As they stood atop the spiral staircase and followed the flight path of New Terra, which was kicking in its Sprintjet boosters and accelerating toward orbit, neither Adam nor Rand focused on the significance of the moment. They knew Janise's squad was on the ground in Barbados. And a man they entrusted to help run the daily operations of this facility was locked up under tight security.

  “We may have yet another problem,” Rand whispered into Adam’s ear. “We just finished recalculating the PAC shuttle's flight plan, and if it launches successfully, it will need 50 minutes less time to rendezvous with Andorran than New Terra would. And our shuttle got out of here behind schedule.”

  Adam sighed. “And we're certain there's been no launch?”

  “Not yet. Whatever Drenette did, it appears to have worked. But my fear is once our attack begins, the CO will put two-and-two together and launch their shuttle immediately, just to get it out of harm's way.”