by James Evans
Perhaps in some distant future, humanity would come together again and develop an improved society based upon the hundreds of variants that were even now being tested across the galaxy, on colonies large and small. She liked to think the future for humankind was bright, and improvement was always possible, but did that mean there were many ways to be civilised, or would all societies tend towards a single, perfect outcome?
She made a note on her data slate to pose this as a question at the next session of the Folketing. It would make an excellent debate topic for the Valkyr parliament, and then later a subject for academics to investigate and draft innumerable theses upon. Now that they were beginning to re-establish contact with the governments of Sol, they would be able to gather data from across the galaxy, from both the British Commonwealth and the other spacefaring nations and collectives. Of course, as isolated as the Valkyr and the Koschite were, she wasn’t sure what other factions and countries might still exist on Earth. They definitely needed to get more information and as soon as possible, if their work on Child of Starlight was not to be wasted.
She made a note on her government console to that effect. She had another eighteen months before the next election, and she was but one of many prime ministers empowered to lead the colonies of the Valkyr and serve their people to the best of their abilities. The interstellar Folketing would need to know everything she could find out through her new contacts.
But this vicious war that the Koschites had launched now posed a serious threat to the advancements the Valkyr had envisaged, strived towards, and planned over the decades. There were always changes, of course, but usually to restore the group vision, which had remained essentially unchanged since the schism from Koschite society. With violence spreading across this sector of the galaxy, it was becoming harder for her to see the path they had all agreed to follow.
Change is coming, she thought, and with it the potential for life-threatening disruption.
Her train of thought was interrupted by the Deputy Prime Minister, Ove Berdahl, who burst unannounced into her office. His face was flushed, though whether from anger or exertion she wasn’t immediately sure.
Ove passed her a data slate then perched on the high stool opposite her standing desk to recover his breath. She looked at him for a moment, shaken by her deputy’s unusual demeanour.
“An attack on a mining colony?” she asked, shaking the report. “What is this?”
“It’s unbelievable, is what it is!” blurted Ove.
“I mean, who did this? Pirates from Sol? But surely not in such a remote system?”
“I know, it’s inconceivable. I don’t think it can be pirates from Sol’s colonies, though. They are too far away.”
“Yet who else would come out here to attack one of our mining facilities?”
Ove looked uncomfortable at the question. “I think it’s the Koschites.”
“The Koschites?” Haukland almost laughed. The suggestion was ludicrous. The relationship between the Valkyr and Koschite governments had stabilised shortly after the schism. There had been a tense decade or two, but that was ancient history.
Their respective governments and societies might have their differences, but they still kept communications open and there was a continuous exchange of both trade goods and scientific research. Travel between the two civilisations was common, and people often visited or spoke to their distant relatives. Freedom of movement was highly prized by both communities, although the right to leave the asteroid colonies of the Valkyr and become a Koschite citizen was rarely exercised.
The stern look on Ove’s face gave Haukland pause. He was not laughing. Surely the man could not be serious?
“This is preposterous, Ove! The idea our sisters in the Koschite government would invade one of our colonies is simply not worth considering. What would even be the point? What do we have that they would want to take by force?”
“Rare elements and minerals for the war effort. You know as well as I that they have been building their military at an ever faster rate. They need materials to build ships and munitions. Why build your own mine when you can steal one that belongs to someone else? They are serious about winning this war, and now they have brought it to our doorstep. What are we going to do?”
“We will contact their government and ask what is going on, I suppose,” muttered Haukland, flicking through the report again.
Ove snorted dismissively. “Miriam, they’ve barely responded to our communiqués over the past few months. In the current climate, we’re lucky to get an acknowledgement, let alone a considered response. Things have changed. I’m not the only one to have noticed, am I?”
In truth, he wasn’t, but Haukland hadn’t wanted it to be true. Was she really presiding over the final days of the Valkyr’s peaceful existence? Would they have to fight the Koschites to retain their independence? It was unthinkable.
“Nonetheless, we must ask for help and comment,” she said firmly. “If we are to survive this war, the Koschites must not become our enemies. We must be allies, even if our worldviews are different. The Children of Freyja must not become alienated from the Koschites.”
“What about these people from Sol?”
“We have to help them, too, and learn all that we can about them. Such knowledge is a valuable bargaining chip, should we need it. The time is right for us to re-establish contact with Earth. We have much to offer them in exchange for their assistance with the problems that our society will face as we follow this path,” Haukland replied.
“Now you sound like a politician,” Ove observed quietly. He sighed. “Very well. What do we do about the mining colony?”
“What does any man do when his house is on fire?”
Ove shrugged. “He asks his neighbour for help.”
“Precisely,” said Miriam. “Send a request through the usual channels. Let’s see what the Koschite government has to say.”
“If you insist,” said Ove sceptically.
“Ove, you look more than usually distressed. Our guests arrive soon. Spit it out, whatever it is,” Haukland asked, hoping that her deputy would not have discovered anything truly worth getting worked up over.
Berdahl flicked at his data slate in response and gestured helplessly at the viewscreen that formed one wall of Haukland’s office. The screen had been displaying a live feed of the river that ran through the rainforest biome and on towards the sub-tropical cavern. Now the pleasant view was replaced by information dashboards that surrounded a video of a communications intelligence officer.
“The following video message is from Giacomo Khan, head of GK Industries. Identification and authenticity of the message have been verified with the usual methods. Personal ident encryption also confirmed. We conclude that the message is a genuine communication from Giacomo Khan.”
The officer disappeared, and a GKI logo came spinning into the foreground from the depths of a starfield. The image was picked out in bright gold and showed a mounted archer, bow drawn and ready to shoot above the letters GKI. Miriam snorted. The man was well known and had embraced his nickname wholeheartedly, even referencing it in his company’s brand.
“To whomever it may concern among the outcast group known as ‘The Children of Freyja’, good evening. I am Giacomo Khan, and it is my duty to inform you that my company’s security teams have, in the past few hours, launched a daring operation to reclaim one of our asteroids from the hands of a group of pirates. These individuals had banded together to mine a valuable asteroid to which we hold the mineral rights, as granted by the Koschite government. A number of these renegades were captured during the operation, but others regrettably chose to attack our personnel. Our teams were forced to defend themselves with lethal force. These barbaric pirates also killed a number of their own people as they resisted our attempts to reclaim our property.”
Haukland stared in disbelief as Khan’s smug, self-righteous face was replaced with a video of an improvised holding pen containing a couple of dozen
people.
“These criminals all claim to be members of the Children of Freyja outcast group. Having no means to secure them on our property long term, and no wish to have to enforce the standard punishment for piracy, to wit, body death. And so we turn to you, in the hope that you will take them off our hands. Names and details of the prisoners are provided along with this communiqué. Please respond quickly to confirm that you wish to accept responsibility for these miscreants and collect them, to do with as you will. If no response is forthcoming within twenty-four hours, we will be forced to try them as pirates and eject them into space. We have attached our request for reparations.
“If, as they claim, these bandits are your citizens, you will, of course, need to compensate us when making your collection. The compensation will cover both the damage they have caused to our mining claim, and the very considerable investment in the mission to reclaim our property, the costs of which are too great to be ignored,” Khan stated, as calmly as if he was talking about trading grain for credits, rather than the lives of people for an extortion payment.
“Hear me well,” said Khan, leaning into the camera. “Simply admit your citizens’ guilt and deliver the reparations package, then you are free to collect the prisoners. But our patience is not unlimited. Take too long, and I cannot guarantee supplies of food will last.”
Haukland stared at the screen in disbelief. “That fucking bastard!” she said after a moment’s consideration.
She turned to Ove, who said nothing. Haukland flung an accusatory finger at Khan’s paused image. “This is blackmail, Ove. He’s attacked and plundered our colony, and now he wants to ransom our people and have us compensate him for the damage his troops did to our station!”
Ove nodded. “Yes,” he said quietly. “It’s a blatant attempt to extort resources from us on the pretext of a flimsy claim to ownership of the asteroid. We have had that system under our purview for decades. If the Koschite government have really given a mineral claim to GKI, it must have been a mistake.” He flicked at his tablet, opening new files. “I checked, and our treaties cover all the star systems we have claimed. The Koschite government have never disputed any of the claims or attempted to renegotiate the treaties. Once the claims have been agreed, they’ve respected our rights and vice versa. There’s never been a need for argument, considering we can trade for anything the other has in any case. I do not dispute these facts. What would you like to do about it? I see no other option but to pay their ransom with good grace and pretend it’s legitimate.”
“Pah. With that attitude, Ove, you’ll never be able to become prime minister.”
Ove nodded. “No, but then I didn’t want to be deputy prime minister, either. I was happy at the university. I recall you telling me that it would be fun. That it would be an adventure. That we’d be able to make Child of Starlight a better place. I recall you daring me to do it, and when I still refused, you said you’d tell my girlfriend that I was dodging my responsibility to the colony.”
Haukland waved her hand dismissively. “Yes, yes. You married her, didn’t you? And now you can implement all the policies you want. And we are making the colony a better place,” she pointed out.
“We are,” he agreed somewhat reluctantly, “but still, this was further than I ever wanted to go with politics. I don’t have the passion for it that you do, Miriam, and if you weren’t running that side of things, I would be completely out of my depth. So please, tell me, what is it that you intend to do, so that I can play my part and help our people get home?”
She smiled at him. He was always about the practicalities, never interested in the political manoeuvring. That’s why she had chosen him as her deputy. He might not have the ambition to match his intellect, but he was damned good at civil planning and strategy. Haukland provided the vision; he carried it out. They worked well together as a team, and if she’d been interested in him romantically, life might have been different for both of them. She wasn’t jealous of Ove’s wife though; she was utterly content with her role in life. Until the past few months, things had been going very well indeed for her.
Haukland steepled her fingers and said cryptically, “You’ll know the answer to that very soon, Ove. Very soon indeed.”
17
Berdahl jumped out of his chair like a startled mandrill when Haukland’s personal assistant thrust open the door to the prime minister’s office and ushered in Captain Cohen and Captain Warden. He smiled at them and awkwardly shook hands as Haukland stood up to greet them.
“Welcome, gentlemen, thank you for coming. Would you like a drink?” asked Haukland, gesturing for them to sit.
“No, thank you, prime minister, we’re pressed for time, I’m afraid,” Captain Cohen said as he parked himself in one of the offered chairs.
“Tea if you have it, ma’am, coffee if not,” Warden responded, earning a flicker of disapproval from Cohen. The ship’s captain seemed like a tightly coiled spring being forced into the chair, while Captain Warden, his Marine colleague, was far more relaxed. “Never refuse a hot wet, Captain Cohen. You never know when it might be your last in the field.”
Haukland bustled at the bar while Berdahl sat in his chair, drumming his fingers on the arm.
“Your colleagues are taking the tour?” Berdahl asked, as the conversational pause lengthened uncomfortably.
“They are, yes,” said Cohen. “We brought a few of the off-duty crew and Marines. They’ve earned a little relaxation time, but the work on Ascendant is not going well and I really need to get back as soon as possible to oversee it.”
“We understand, Captain, but we have a pressing matter that cannot wait, and we think you might be able to help. We very much appreciate this chance to – what is your phrase? A chance to poke your brains.”
Cohen nodded politely as the translations rolled across his HUD.
“We are happy to help,” said Cohen. “Please feel free to poke our brains as much as you want.”
Haukland turned back from the bar and placed a mug of tea on the desk in front of Warden.
“The situation is delicate,” said Haukland. “Our ability to act is limited, and so we come to you in the hope that you might be able to help.” She glanced at Berdahl, who took up the story.
“One of our mining colonies has been attacked,” he said, flicking an image of an asteroid mining facility to the large screen on the office wall. “Pirates, we thought originally, but then we received a demand for compensation from GK Industries, a Koschite conglomerate with links to factions within their government and broad freedom to act.”
“GKI’s mercenaries stormed the facility and killed a number of residents. They have taken the rest hostage and demand ‘compensation’ for their release. They expect us to collect our people and leave the station in their control. I won’t prevaricate,” said Haukland. “We would like you to deliver the ransom payment – a cargo of metals – in HMS Palmerston and retrieve the hostages.”
Cohen blinked in surprise, then frowned.
“I’m sure we can help, Prime Minister,” he said slowly, “but is this not something your own people should handle?”
Haukland shook her head. “This is a peaceful colony, Captain. We have no military personnel, vessels or equipment. A straightforward ransom delivery is possible, of course, but…”
“But you’re worried that something might go wrong,” said Cohen, finishing the sentence for her. “Yes, I can see why you might like our help.”
“How many hostages are there?” Warden asked, turning to the practicalities of the exercise.
“Twenty-six, Captain Warden.”
“And what sort of force does GKI command? Are these sorts of attacks common?”
“We don’t know that, I’m afraid. My guess would be only one ship and a small number of mercenaries. The miners have a habitable station, but they don’t have a military presence, so an assault would be simple and easy. I simply don’t have any information to confirm either way. To answer your sec
ond question, no, attacks like this are unheard of in Valkyr space.”
“Then why attack, ma’am? They must be pretty confident if they’re willing to demand a ransom and hold on to the mining station to boot,” Cohen asked.
“They have reason to be. Perhaps my translation is obscuring matters. Let me show you the ransom demand from the aggressors,” said the Prime Minister, tapping her console to replay the video message from Giacomo Khan.
The military men watched in grim silence as the video played out. Haukland stole glances, and their reaction to the translated message was plainly written on their faces. When it finished, they turned back to face her.
“So this is a private company that claims to have rights over the asteroid, and on the back of that claim they have attacked the station and taken the miners hostage? Is that about it?”
“Yes,” said Berdahl. “This is all we know so far. We have not been able to contact our people on the station directly, which is obviously a bad sign.”
“I take it that you believe the Valkyr have the rights to this asteroid?”
“Yes, we have treaties with the Koschite government regarding all our systems. Settlement and exploitation rights are clearly laid out and we don’t share any systems with them, or vice versa. Since we are primarily interested in systems like this,” said Haukland, gesturing around her, “which lack habitable planets, there are rarely disputes, but those are negotiated in any case.”
“If there’s no dispute, why are they so keen on this particular asteroid?” Cohen asked. “Interstellar travel for mining is a bit of an oddity, from our perspective.”
“This asteroid, and others in the system, contain substantial quantities of rare elements in reasonably accessible forms. We mine asteroids on a large scale, accumulating resources from systems that are otherwise unusable, and then transport them to where they can be used,” said Berdahl. “GKI does something similar, but on the basis of private enterprise.”
