by Dan Moren
“General,” said Taylor. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and took in each of them in turn. “Six weeks ago, my office at Naval Intelligence Command intercepted a batch of coded Illyrican signals in the Jericho system. In and of itself, there’s nothing unusual about that: we skim all the traffic that passes through the Illyricans’ relays in the bottleneck; I’m sure they do the same for us. However, unbeknownst to the Imperium, these messages used an encryption scheme that we had cracked two weeks prior. In particular, one of the messages pointed to Illyrican interests in Bayern – specifically, financial interests.”
“Hardly a surprise,” said Tapper. “Those bastards have their fingers in most monetary pies – so to speak.”
“Quite,” said Taylor. “That’s why it got filed away at the time.” She raised a finger. “But then, a few days later, there was another message, also bound for Bayern. And then another a few days after that. Overall, communications traffic between the Imperium and Bayern jumped four hundred percent in the space of a few weeks.
“This caught my attention, as you can imagine.”
Taylor touched her sleeve: the room lights dimmed and a holographic display sprang into view, hovering in the space between the couch and the armchairs. In it was a simplified schematic of a solar system. As Eli watched, it zoomed in on the fourth planet, a mottled gray-blue world that he recognized as Bayern.
“NICOM doesn’t have its own Bayern desk,” said Taylor. “So I put in a request for the Commonwealth Intelligence Directorate’s most recent situation analysis.” She gestured at the screen. “As you are all aware, Bayern is the preeminent banking and financial hub in the known galaxy, a status it achieved thanks to its somewhat peculiar system of government.”
“The Corporation,” said the general, his eyes slitted. “A bizarre institution, to be sure, but one that seems to have served Bayern well enough.”
“Indentured servitude, I call it,” muttered Tapper from the back wall. “Making everybody on the planet an employee of a single huge company?”
Taylor shrugged. “They’re employees and shareholders, and as such they ultimately dictate the direction of the Corporation. I’d argue the people of Bayern aren’t any worse off than any number of other worlds – but that’s a philosophical debate for another time. What is important is that the Corporation has enacted strict bylaws on confidentiality and data security. That’s why plenty of other galactic corporations and even governments like to park money there.
“It’s also why it’s impossible for us to strong-arm the Board of Directors into giving us a peek into the Illyricans’ finances. Both Bayern’s Board and its Chief Executive have maintained that Bayern’s stance on galactic conflict is strictly neutral. Picking sides is bad for business, you see.”
There was a deep, ripping snort from somewhere in the direction of Tapper, but the rest of the room studiously ignored it.
“Despite that,” Taylor continued, “the information Bleiden passed on to Captain Kovalic suggests that a meeting between the Imperium and the Corporation is imminent – less than two days from now.” Here Taylor paused, her lips thinning. “We suspect that the Illyricans’ envoy to this meeting was initially intended to be Bleiden himself, but with his death we’re not sure who has taken his place. We do believe that the envoy is likely to meet with this woman.” She touched her sleeve again and the planet vanished, replaced by a looped video of a statuesque woman with copper skin and iron gray hair standing behind a podium and smiling at the camera. She appeared to be answering questions in front of a large crowd, but there was no sound, so it was impossible for Eli to say. Maybe she’s doing a song and dance routine.
“This is Senior Vice President Zaina Vallejo,” said Taylor. “She’s in charge of Client Relations – probably the closest thing Bayern has to a Foreign Minister – and she sits on the Board.”
“In other words,” the general said, “she’s what you might call ‘wired in.’”
“It’s widely acknowledged that Vallejo has the full trust and confidence of Chief Executive Chakravarty and Chairman Petrovich,” Taylor continued. “She’s considered by many the third most powerful person in the Corporation, and a likely candidate for one of the top two positions in the next five to ten years.”
“A power player,” said the general. “Ambitious and cunning.” He grimaced. “I know the type.”
Eli looked around, not for the first time feeling like he was the one of the slower members of the class. “So, uh, what business is this of ours?”
Three pairs of eyes turned towards him, like spotlights on an escaping criminal. I guess there is such a thing as a stupid question.
Taylor glanced at the general, then back at Eli. “We can’t run the risk that the Illyricans will sway Bayern towards their side.”
“But you just said they don’t pick sides,” said Eli.
“So far,” the general interjected. “But it’s not impossible that the Imperium is willing to make concessions that the Corporation would find appealing enough to change their stance and lend their financial support. Those resources at the Imperium’s disposal, well…” The general’s eyes seemed to focus on something that Eli couldn’t see. “The Imperium leveraged all the assets and natural resources at its disposal in the construction of its invasion fleets. It spent decades preparing to attack Earth and its colonies.” He tugged on his beard. “But the destruction of Fifth Fleet at Sabaea dealt a significant blow to the Imperium’s offensive capabilities. Then there was the incident with Project Tarnhelm – all that research and development gone up in smoke, their advanced prototype jump-ship…” He cleared his throat and tilted his head at Tapper and Eli, “…lost. Financially, those are substantial setbacks for the Illyrican war machine. A deal with the Corporation could fund a lot of new weapons projects and matériel, and that’s something we can’t allow to happen if we are to maintain the strategic balance.” The general shook his head. “At this point, though, we simply don’t have enough information.”
Eli’s pulse had quickened at the mention of Sabaea. He’d had a front row seat to that debacle – and, unlike the rest of his squadron, he’d been lucky to survive. The Illyricans hadn’t exactly stopped occupying planets because they’d wanted to. If there’s a chance to stop them, sign me up.
“Due respect, sir,” Tapper put in, “but why us? Why not leave it to CID’s Bayern station?”
“A few reasons. For one, Bayern station operates out of the Commonwealth embassy,” said the general, but Eli could see the hesitation in the old man’s eyes, “and thus their mission brief is more… passive. They aren’t equipped to deal with this kind of operation. For another, well, let’s be frank: I’m not exactly inclined to put my full trust in our colleagues from CID. They’ve proven, shall we say, unreliable in the past.”
The general nodded to Taylor, who dismissed the holographic display and raised the lights once again. Eli blinked, his eyes tearing at the brightness.
“Your mission is straightforward,” the general said. “Find the Imperial envoy, establish their purpose on Bayern, and, if necessary, disrupt it.”
Yeah, what are the odds he’d send us if it wasn’t going to be necessary to disrupt it?
“Commander Taylor will brief you more fully on your cover, but you’ll depart within the hour. Any questions?”
Way, way too many to ask right now. Nobody else seemed to have any, though, so with nods all around Eli joined the sergeant and commander as they traipsed back into the general’s outer office. I think I may be out of my depth just slightly, he thought, but he shoved the feeling down. I can do this.
“Well, that was fun,” he said under his breath, as he gave a forced smile to the general’s assistant.
Tapper clapped him on the shoulder. “You have no idea, kid. The fun’s just beginning.”
The knock on the door came again, even as Kovalic shuffled his way towards it, bleary eyed. It was before 1000 hours, and he’d still been lying in bed. Not slee
ping exactly, but resting his eyes. He thought he might have logged a few hours of actual shut-eye last night, but it hadn’t come without a fight.
He didn’t bother looking through the peephole; there were a limited number of people who would knock on his door, and if it was a pair of wandering missionaries he thought he might actually be in the mood for an impromptu theological discussion. Instinctively, he started to reach for the door with his right hand, only to find it pressing against his sling. With a grumble, he switched and opened the door with his left.
Nat was leaning against the doorframe, a wry smile on her face.
“Simon.”
Kovalic blinked. “Natalie.”
“Invite me in?”
Stepping back, he gestured broadly, again with his left arm. “Please.”
She strolled over to the couch and Kovalic kicked the door closed after her, suddenly all too aware of the fact that he was wearing a bathrobe – possibly, as he thought about it, one that she’d bought for him – slippers, and not much else.
“Uh,” he said, “can I fix you some coffee?”
She cast her eye over to the small galley kitchen and raised a brow. “Do you actually know how to make coffee?”
“Well, I’ll admit it’s easier with two hands,” he said. “But I think I can manage. Unless your tastes now run to those fancy gourmet espressos.”
“No, still just black.”
Kovalic busied himself at the counter with the coffeemaker and some of the instant single-serving cups, his back to his guest. “So,” he said, “I’m sure you didn’t come to watch me fumble around with a coffeemaker.”
“It’s got its appeal.” There was an awkward silence. “Look,” she said. “We didn’t really get a chance to talk last night. Or while you were at the hospital. So I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t my idea.”
Kovalic clicked the cup into place and punched the button with somewhat more force than was required.
“What wasn’t?” he said, feigning ignorance.
“Simon.”
He stared at the coffee machine as it began to hiss.
“Simon, come on. Turn around.”
Forcing his face into a pleasant smile, he turned and leaned against the counter. Instinctively, he tried to cross his arms over his chest and found himself hampered by the sling; awkwardly, he hooked his opposite thumb through its shoulder strap.
Nat had leaned forward on the couch, her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped. She wore an apologetic smile that made it all the way up to her blue eyes – had they always been that blue? – and slightly furrowed brow.
“I’m not trying to take over your team,” she said. “I want you to know that. This is just…” she waved her hands, “…an unfortunate set of circumstances.”
“Yeah, well, you got the house and the dog too.” He regretted it the instant the words were out of his mouth.
The smile vanished, wiped away as though it had never been there, and was replaced with a face that looked like it had been carved out of marble: beautiful, but cold. “This isn’t personal,” she said flatly. “I asked the general for help looking into Bayern, yes, but I didn’t ask to be in charge. That was his decision.” She gave a shrug that, surprisingly enough, had an air of helplessness.
The reminder didn’t make it any better. “Right,” said Kovalic. The coffeemaker beeped behind him; he turned and found a clean mug on a shelf, then pressed the button to pour a cup. As it burbled full he stared at the white tiling on the kitchen wall.
“How’s the arm?” Nat asked, her voice taking on a slightly lighter tone.
“It’s fine,” he said. Actually, it hurt like hell. The painkillers he’d been given in the hospital had helped somewhat, dulling it from red-hot-poker pain to dull bone-deep ache. But it was enough to mess with his equilibrium; everything was off kilter. Including this conversation. He picked up the mug and walked over to the couch to hand it to her.
“Good,” said Nat, looking up at him. Not all the warmth had returned to her eyes, but they were less hostile than they’d been a moment ago. “Sit down.” She patted the space next to her on the couch.
Reluctantly, Kovalic let himself drop into the space, though he put some more distance between the two of them. There was a faint scent of rosemary and mint that floated off her like an aura, and he wanted to be well outside its range. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his good hand and glanced sidelong at Nat.
“I forgot to say thank you.”
“For what?”
He shrugged, an action that made him wince with pain. This time she saw it and started to open her mouth, but he barreled on. “For coming to get us. You didn’t have to do that.”
A faint smile crossed her lips again. “Even if the general hadn’t made it a quid pro quo for this job, you know I would have.”
“Yeah. Still. Thanks.”
The smile was genuine this time. “You’re welcome.” She took a sip of the coffee and looked impressed. “Not bad for the pre-made stuff.”
“Well, you know, I spare no expense. I’m home at least twice a month.” He cleared his throat. “How is the house, anyway? Get that leaky sink fixed?”
Nat nodded. “Josh came over and did it.”
Kovalic gave a disbelieving laugh. “Your brother fixed a sink?”
“He’s got his moments.”
“I hope it wasn’t like the time he rewired the living room. It’s a wonder you can’t still see the scorch marks.”
“Come on,” Nat chided him, “it was all out of date wiring anyway. It needed to be redone. And, if I may remind you, he was cheap.”
“Yes, we almost got our living room set on fire for just a case of beer. What a deal.”
With a laugh, Nat took another sip of coffee.
“And Sadie?” said Kovalic. “You’re not letting her get fat, are you?”
Nat laughed. “Much as she’d love to loll around in the sun all day, no. The girl next door walks her when I’m away.” She hesitated. “You should come by some time and see her; I know she misses you.”
“Just make sure you show her a picture once in a while. Maybe when you feed her – positive reinforcement and all that.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.” She glanced at her wrist and sighed. “I’ve got to run,” she said. “Got a ride to catch.”
Kovalic gave a tight smile. “Right.”
Putting the coffee down, she put a hand on his knee and squeezed it gently. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Sure,” he said. “Come by unannounced anytime.”
With another smile, she stood and crossed to the door.
“Nat,” he said, not looking up. “Just be careful, OK? You and the team. Tapper, you know, he can take care of himself. Page is good at what he does, but he needs a little… guidance, from time to time – somebody to remind him that he’s only human. And Brody…” He shook his head. “He’s a cocky son of a bitch, but he’s got potential. Just make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.” He raised his eyes to hers. “They’re your responsibility now. You’ve got to make sure they all get back alive.” He felt his throat choke slightly on the last word.
Nat nodded, serious. “I understand. Don’t worry. I won’t let you down.” She turned the knob and slipped out, letting the door click shut behind her.
Kovalic leaned back on the couch, then reached over and picked up the mug of coffee she’d left on the table and sniffed it. Still warm. With a shrug he took a sip, then put it back down and took a deep breath. He wasn’t equipped for early mornings yet. The Novan sun, still on the rise, had suffused the room with a pleasant glow, and as he leaned back he found himself drifting off in thought. He trusted Nat, absolutely, but leading a team, being responsible for them, wasn’t easy – take it from someone who knew.
Chapter 7
“Nova two-one-niner, this is Bayern Control. You have been cleared for landing on platform C-eight-five.”
The voice was tinny over the coc
kpit’s speaker, like the flight controller was talking through a can attached to a string. Eli reached out and toggled the transmission key. “Roger that, Bayern Control. Coming in on vector–” he glanced at the readout in front of him, “–one-one-five. Altitude 10,000 meters.”
“Copy, Nova two-one-niner. You’re clear all the way into port. Welcome to Bayern.” They clicked off brusquely, without waiting for acknowledgment.
“Thanks, Control,” Eli muttered to himself through gritted teeth, as he refocused his attention on the instrumentation and tried to ignore the faint pangs of nausea echoing in his stomach.
He’d been right, he thought, allowing himself a brief surge of triumph that almost managed to overwhelm his nascent shakes: The simulator was nothing like flying a real ship. Take that, Dr Thornfield. He hoped he survived long enough to tell her. There were so many subtleties the computer just couldn’t quite reproduce: the way the deck randomly shifted as the ship bucked against the atmosphere’s wind currents during the descent; the tension on the flight stick as he fought with it; even just the smell of the recycled air. It all played into making the experience a whole.
And making me sick.
He’d had no problems during the rescue on Sevastapol, but in retrospect he could tell that adrenaline had once again played a pretty big part there. There hadn’t been time to stop and reflect, to think about what he was doing – it had been pure action.
The trip to Bayern was the total opposite. He’d piloted the ship all the way from liftoff at the Terra Nova spaceport, through two wormholes – from Nova to the Badr sector, and then on to Bayern – and to the landing. Hopefully. The autopilot had handled much of the dull, straightforward intra-system travel; really, when it came down to it, Eli had only taken the stick for takeoff, gate jumps, and landing. And frankly, the computer probably could have handled those as well, but he was never going to get his space legs back if he didn’t try. All told, the trip had taken a little under twelve hours.
