by M. D. Cooper
“That’s pretty telling,” Trevor agreed with a chuckle. “Even if it takes us a few months to get back, it’ll be worth it just to see the kids. I’ll feel a lot better knowing they’re OK.”
Jessica patted his arm. “They’re in control of the most powerful weapon in the galaxy.”
“Next to Tangel, that is,” Trevor replied. “Given that we named our daughter Tanis, I’m worried she’s going to take on the trouble-magnet aspect of her namesake as well.”
“Umm…I’m standing right here.” Tangel’s brows lowered into a scowl.
“Can’t you hear us anywhere on the ship?” Jessica asked with a wink. “We can’t really talk behind your back, might as well do it to your face.”
“No, I can’t listen to the whole ship at once.” Tangel resisted the urge to make a face at Jessica. “That’s Bob’s department.”
They all paused, waiting for the AI to reply, but no response came.
“Bob?” Jessica asked.
“Oh!” Trevor barked a laugh. “And the ascended AI delivers a scorcher!”
“ ‘Effectively’ is no exaggeration, either,” Trevor said as they reached a narrow brook that ran amongst the trees. “They utterly crushed a massive Orion Guard fleet without a single ship of their own.”
“I hope they made some, though,” Jessica added. “Ships are necessary for a solid defense.”
“If she takes after me at all, she’ll have a million by now,” Tangel said with a wink. “I’m more interested in the Dream, and how they managed to ascend trillions of people in the space of a few millennia.”
“I don’t think quite that many ascended,” Jessica replied. “Just a hundred billion, or so,”
Tangel turned left, walking along the edge of the stream. “But from the data on Star City, there’s no reason they couldn’t have ascended trillions.”
“Fair enough,” Jessica allowed. “I do wonder where they all went, though. The ascended people.”
“Maybe you can find out,” Tangel asked. “Once you get the gates set up, I may make a trip out there myself. I’d like to meet my namesake and her siblings.”
“We’d like that a lot, too.” Trevor glanced at Jessica. “I just wish Iris could come along.”
Jessica pursed her lips, and Tangel noted how the woman’s eyes glowed more brightly for a moment.
“Yeah,” Jessica finally said. “She’s doing important work at Aldebaran, but…”
“It won’t go on forever,” Tangel assured her as they reached a small bridge and crossed over. “Both Iris and Amavia are getting tired of the League of Sentients’ nonsense. If we can just get them to join in with Scipio, the Hegemony of Worlds will fall within a year. Once that happens, their biggest aggressor will be gone. Hopefully that will finally bring them around to our way of thinking.”
“That’s a big ‘hopefully’.” Jessica shook her head, a rueful tone in her voice. “For all the help we’ve given them, the LoS is ridiculously suspicious. Stars, we saved Virginis, and they still treat us like outsiders looking to take something from them.”
Tangel nodded. “If we weren’t spread so thin, we could commit more to that fight and we wouldn’t need the LoS. But things have flared up in Corona Australis again, there’s the mess at Valkris, and Orion just launched an attack on Deneb that I need to funnel ships to.”
Jessica chuckled. “You must have a mighty big funnel.”
“If only,” Tangel replied. “You know…if we hadn’t built those shipyards in New Canaan’s moons, this would be all over by now—and not in our favor.”
“And it still doesn’t feel like it was enough,” her friend said.
Tanis shook her head. “It really doesn’t.”
SURPRISE VISIT
STELLAR DATE: 09.26.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: TSF Docks, Keren Station
REGION: Khardine System, Transcend Interstellar Alliance
Jason watched as Sabrina settled onto a docking cradle in one of Keren Station’s larger bays. A ramp extended from the deck, lifting up to the mid-ship port-side airlock.
He glanced at Admiral Greer and the cabinet members to his right, and then at the honor guard, which formed up at the base of the ramp.
I don’t recall them having anywhere near this level of pomp and ceremony for Sera. I guess the father’s earned it a bit more.
When the ship’s airlock opened, the first out were four of Sera’s High Guard—which caused Jason to wonder if they would still protect her, or if they’d all be assigned to her father.
The idea of ISF Marines—there were nine in the High Guard’s ranks—protecting Jeffrey Tomlinson didn’t sit right with Jason. Sera was different; she had saved Tanis and spent months aboard the Intrepid—and later, half a year in New Canaan. She understood what an honor it was for the colony world to assign its scarcest resource to keep her safe.
He didn’t get the impression that Jeffrey Tomlinson would appreciate the honor.
For reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on, Jason didn’t really like the former—and probably future—president of the Transcend.
He hadn’t met the clone of Jeffrey who had died aboard the Galadrial two years prior, but he had studied everything he could find out about the man, both before and after learning that for the last thousand years, the Transcend had been ruled by a puppet of Airtha’s.
From what he could tell, even at his best, Jeffrey was a bit of an ass. Still, his brother Finaeus supported him, and Jason had to admit that despite his quirky personality, Finaeus Tomlinson was a stand-up guy. He wouldn’t back his brother if he thought he’d make a mess of things.
The High Guard reached the bottom of the ramp, two of their number joining Keren Station’s honor guard, while the others strode across the bay to stand at the exit.
Moments later, Sera emerged from the airlock, followed by Sera and Sera.
Jason had known that two of Sera’s clones had been captured—he’d been present for one of the events—but he hadn’t gotten the message that all of them were coming to Keren Station.
Watching the three Seras—one sheathed in blue, another in red, and the third wearing a long leather jacket over what appeared to be still more leather—stride down the ramp had a curious effect on his cognitive abilities.
At almost the same time, all three spotted him. One by one, they smiled, but he could tell something was different in the red Sera’s smile. He determined it to be a victorious expression, comingled with a possessive glint.
Why do I always find myself attracted to complicated women?
Behind the blonde, leather-wearing Sera came Finaeus, Tangel, and Jeffrey. Then the rest of Sabrina’s crew filed out, followed by more of the High Guard.
He nodded to Tangel, who met his eyes and returned the gesture before her eyes darted toward Sera and gave a wink.
Jason held back a laugh as Jeffrey Tomlinson shook his hand.
Jason considered that for a moment.
Jason fell in beside Sera, who was talking about the state of the rebuilding project at Pyra with her cabinet.
Jason replied to a question from one of the cabinet members about the Airthan fleets in the LMC while responding to Sera.
She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze.
Jason gave Sera an exaggerated wink.
* * * * *
Sera and Tangel had been whisked away to attend lengthy cabinet meetings discussing whether or not her father was fit to take up his position as president once more. Jason could have made a case to attend, but he’d had his fill of conference rooms for the time being.
Despite his reservations about Jeffrey Tomlinson on a personal level, Jason rather hoped that Sera wouldn’t have any trouble securing the transfer of power. He knew it was selfish, but the possibility that Sera could shuck off all her responsibility made him more than a little happy.
Not having to manage the entire Transcend meant there was an increased possibility that she could join him in his cabin deep in the mountains of Pelas on Carthage after the war ended.
Jason sent a warm laugh into her mind.
Jason had been in more than his share of political meetings. He knew that ‘breaking in thirty minutes’ was code for ‘see you in a few hours’.
However, on the off-chance that Sera would actually manage to break free within thirty minutes, he worked his way down to the Golden Goose and secured a table in the back. Only two of the ISF Marines functioning as his guards came in, but he knew that the others would be nearby—a necessary annoyance he’d become accustomed to.
As he waited for one of the human waitstaff to approach, he surveyed the bar, taking in the ‘local flavor’.
Though Keren Station was the heart of the Khardine faction of the Transcend—and thus all but swarmed with both politicians and the military—it had spent most of its existance as the central hub for the region’s many mining operations.
The ongoing military buildup meant that the mining guilds were busier than ever, but despite that, precious few of their old haunts had room for them.
His train of thought was reinforced by some of the regulars giving him sidelong looks. He began to wonder if a change of venue was in order, when two men and a woman—their shipsuits covered in a fine iron-ore dust—approached him. Their arms were crossed, and their brows lowered.
“I don’t mean nothing by it,” one of the men said as the trio reached his table. “But there’s precious little enough space for us on Keren anymore. I’m sure there are plenty of other establishments where you can eat, up in the hab cylinder.”
Despite the fact that the three people before Jason didn’t care for him much, he felt a sort of kinship with them.
Other than a single FTL corridor, the Oratus Cluster was restricted to sub-light travel only by dense clouds of dark matter. The miners standing before him likely spent most of their time plying the black the same way Jason had as a young man: slowly.
“You’re right,” he said with a nod and an expansive smile. “But I feel a lot more at home down here. Smells like honest work.” He looked at each of them in turn. “Do you know who I am?”
“Of course we do. Is it supposed to be some sort of threat?” the woman asked.
“Not in the least,” Jason replied with disarming grin. “But from the way you said that, I doubt very much you really know who I am.”
The three shared a confused glance.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” one asked.
Jason gestured at the empty seats around the table. “Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll tell you a story about how I got started on this whole crazy adventure.” The trio seemed uncertain until he added, “I’ll buy you rounds so long as you care to listen.”
That got the miners seated and signaling a servitor.
Once the first and second rounds were ordered—‘for good measure’, the woman had said with a wink—Jason began his tale.
“You see, I wasn’t always a governor, or a respectable captain of a colony ship. Heck, even my own family thought I stood a good chance of never doing much with my life—not that I cared. Life is for living, not storing up in some reservoir that you get to finally dip into someday.
“Some of the expectations placed on me were due to the fact that I was the grandson of one of the great heroes of the Sentience Wars: Cara Sykes. She made quite the name for herself in the wars, and that’s what most people remembered about her, but what few knew is that she grew up on a half-broken-down freighter named the Sunny Skies.”
“Weird name for a freighter,” the woman—who Jason later learned was named Margret—commented.
“Well, my great grandfather was a bit of an optimist—or so I’m told. Little known fact: he was the first successful AI-human pairing. The AIs back then called him a ‘hybrid’. Set the stage for…well…nearly everything that is going on now.
“Anyway, after the end of the first Sentience War, my mother and her husband left the Sol System for Alpha Centauri, but they never made it as far as Rigel Kentaurus, stopping instead at Proxima Centauri.”
“Pretty short flight,” the first man—named Wren—said.
“Well, not back then. In those days, it used to take us a century to cross those measly four and a half light years. Anyway, Proxima is where they had me and my sister, and where we grew up. But I didn’t really fancy sitting in one place. Proxima used to have a thick dust belt in those days, so I ran ore haulers between there and Rigel Kentaurus, the primary star in the Alpha Centauri system.”
The three nodded appreciatively, seeming to be fully engrossed in the story as they nursed their drinks, so Jason continued.
“After that, I worked with the Enfields to build out the very first interstellar trade routes.” The three miners looked at him skeptically and he shrugged. “Well, sure, there were folks who plied the black here and there before that, but they weren’t hauling freight on commission, and they weren’t making regular runs. You’re looking at the first person to ever make a regular freight run between two separate star systems on a schedule
.”
“Shit…that’s actually kinda awesome,” Margret said with a slow nod as she glanced at her tablemates. “So how did you go from that to becoming the governor of New Canaan? Bit of a leap.”
“Not too much.” He gave his audience a wink. “Let me take a step back and tell you a bit about Enfield and the Sentience Wars. This is the sort of stuff you won’t find in the history books. Luckily, I was raised by people—both AIs and humans—who were there….”
* * * * *
Sera had looked up the Golden Goose on her way down to the lower docks. It was a spot known for good food, coarse language, and rot-gut that would pickle your liver.
In short, it was just the sort of place she frequented back when she was captain of Sabrina, but hadn’t seen much of since.
Jason had related a few tales from his younger days that led her to believe he used to enjoy a good dive bar as well.
However, as she neared the location, the boisterous sounds she expected to hear were not in evidence. In fact, she didn’t even hear music coming from the entrance.
What she did hear was the sound of a singular voice rising and falling as it recited a tale to an audience. Upon entering the establishment, she saw the speaker—not that she hadn’t already identified him.
Jen commented with a snicker, and Sera shot her AI a sour look as she threaded her way through the crowd.
Jason stood atop a chair near the back of the bar, his sonorous voice booming out over a rapt audience.
“…as I said, I didn’t like to visit Sol much—too many politicians and self-important types—” The statement raised a few snickers from the crowd. “But he asked me to come, and so I did.”
“The one who shot your sister?” a voice called out in confusion.
