Galactic Frontiers: A Collection of Space Opera and Military Science Fiction Stories

by Jay Allan

  Stars! Is that what this is about? Leanna searched the faces around the table, noting their grim expressions. “What happened?”

  “It started with a series of disjointed accounts from beyond the outer colonies,” Edwin explained while he activated a holodisplay above the table. A star map appeared, highlighted with several points in red. “In isolation, the reports didn’t amount to anything worth mentioning, but there’s just been an incident we can’t ignore.”

  Leanna swallowed hard. That could only mean one thing. “An attack?”

  “Afraid so,” Edwin confirmed. “On one of our freighters, while it was engaging in relief efforts in the outer colonies.”

  “A supply raid, perhaps?” she speculated. “Piracy is a huge issue with food and medicine.”

  “This wasn’t piracy,” Rebecca chimed in from next to Edwin. The petite brunette’s normally unflappable demeanor was frayed around the edges, with a slight tremble in her voice and lines around her eyes. “The surviving witness had a very compelling account of the events.”

  Leanna hesitated. “What makes you think it was the Bakzen?”

  “Telekinesis,” Rebecca stated.

  “That’s impossible!” Leanna’s head swam as she began thinking through the implications. Could an entire race possess such abilities?

  “I know telekinesis was never referenced in the official dossier on the Bakzen. However, the High Priests have divulged that this attack must have been by the Bakzen’s hand. They’re certain.” Edwin cleared his throat. “Needless to say, this is a complicated situation.”

  Leanna fought to organize her thoughts. “That explains while Kalvin isn’t here. Has he—?”

  “No,” Edwin interrupted. “He’s attending to other matters.”

  She stared at him incredulously. “With all respect, what could possibly be more important? There are aliens knocking on our door and the Director of Interworld Relations isn’t on the front line?”

  The other advisors shifted in their chairs.

  “The High Priests considered all possible scenarios,” Edwin said after several moments. “They’ve decided that you’ll head up the team.”

  “Me?” Leanna didn’t bother to hide her surprise.

  Edwin nodded. “This is an opportunity to demonstrate your aptitude. As you know, Kalvin is nearing retirement and his seat will be open on the council.”

  Leanna weighed her options. Her entire career had been building toward the directorship Kalvin currently held, and a chance to secure the nomination to replace him was too huge an opportunity to pass up. Nonetheless, it was one thing to broker communications between the Taran worlds and quite another to engage the only known alien race—a group that Tarans such as herself had been trying to avoid for generations. Failure was a very real possibility. But if I’m not successful, I doubt my career prospects will be the least of my worries.

  “We’re seeking a peaceful resolution to this conflict before it escalates,” Edwin continued when she didn’t respond. “Your time on Cambion granted you more hands-on experience with unscripted negotiations than anyone else currently on the Interworld Relations team has ever had in the field.”

  Leanna found her voice, “But Cambion is one of the preeminent Taran worlds, regardless of its location at the edge of our civilization. The Bakzen…” she trailed off and took a steadying breath. “Do we even speak the same language?”

  “The Bakzen sent a universally coded message requesting a meeting,” Edwin revealed. “So, computer-assisted translation shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “You must open a dialogue,” urged Rebecca.

  “Their opening move was an act of aggression,” Leanna countered. “How genuine is that meeting request?”

  Edwin nodded thoughtfully. “This is an unprecedented endeavor in many ways. But, given the alternatives, we have no choice other than to comply.”

  “This may be a trap.”

  “It’s a risk we have to take,” Edwin told her. “If we can’t reach an accord with the Bakzen, we’re facing the possibility of interstellar war.”

  And they’re counting on me? It didn’t add up. Leanna spread her hands on the tabletop. “Sir, I’d normally welcome any challenge, but—”

  Edwin looked her square in the eyes. “This isn’t the time for self-doubt, Leanna. Will you fulfill your responsibilities to this office?”

  She nodded and took an unsteady breath. Have they all gone mad? “Yes, sir. Of course.”

  The advisors around the table relaxed the slightest measure.

  “The meeting with the Bakzen is set for this afternoon at 16:00—hence the part about it being largely unscripted,” Edwin explained. “Three members of the Tararian Guard will accompany you.”

  Were the circumstances any different, Leanna would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation. However, the faces of those around her indicated the course was set. At least overcoming the challenging odds would give her a chance to secure her future in the Priesthood’s leadership. “All right. When do I leave?”

  “A transport shuttle will be here for you in half an hour; you’ll meet the rest of your team at the spaceport.” Edwin consulted his handheld on the table in front of him. “Actually, make that twenty minutes.”

  Leanna’s stomach knotted. “Where’s the rendezvous?”

  “Haelo, near the attack site. With any luck, you and your team can make all this go away before it becomes an issue.” Edwin rose from his seat and the other advisors followed suit.

  “What’s the optimal outcome of the discussions?” Leanna questioned, the last to stand. “Is it treaty or…?”

  “Treaty, trade agreement—whatever will keep us from going to war,” Rebecca said as she made her way around the conference table toward the door. “Best of luck.”

  Leanna stood in shocked silence as the advisors began to exit. Field experience or not, nothing could have prepared me for this responsibility. Everyone is counting on me…

  “You’d best be on your way,” Edwin said, the last to reach the door. “They’ll be expecting you at the port.”

  Leanna wet her lips. “Sir, do I have full authority in these negotiations? If a full-blown war is really on the line…”

  “We trust you to do what must be done for our survival,” he replied. “You have proven yourself committed to our cause.”

  “But in terms of making concessions—”

  “Rest assured, you’ve been granted the authority you’ll need. The High Priests trust your judgment,” Edwin told her. “Stars be with you.”

  Holding in a swear, Leanna hurried from the administrative wing to her quarters so she could quickly pack for the journey. She took the opportunity to change into more a sensible dark blue pants suit and flats, then gathered several changes of clothes and some toiletries into a travel bag. Once packed, she took a direct path down to the gardens surrounding the stone building, which led to the shuttle port near the cliffs on the west side of the administrative complex.

  The remote location of the Priesthood’s island tended to minimize travel, and, as she approached the port, Leanna realized it had been over a year since she’d left her home.

  She had been lucky enough to be granted an internship with the governing Priesthood upon graduating from the University of Tararia, and from there she’d worked her way up the administrative ranks. While her promotion to an assistant directorship had meant a significant career advancement, her permanent relocation to the island had meant leaving behind friends and family for a job that demanded her to be fully accessible at any hour. Though it had been a difficult decision, she had committed to that life and now had to fulfill her responsibilities to her people. If the stakes truly were interstellar war, she had no reservations about giving it her all.

  Shortly after reaching the port, Leanna spotted a shuttle approaching across the sea. Designed for atmospheric entry, the aerodynamic vessel was ten meters long with windows down either side above narrow, triangular wings containing sta
bility thrusters. The sleek craft made its final approach and touched down on the paved landing platform.

  As the powerful rear engines wound down, a door in the side of the craft slid open and a tall man with dark blond hair dressed in a dark gray uniform stepped out. “Leanna Jordis?” he asked.

  “Yes, hello,” she replied and walked up to the vessel.

  “My name is Commander Sam Merlino,” he greeted. “I’ll be heading your escort team.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Commander.” Leanna inclined her head. “I hope this mission won’t require much of a military presence.”

  He cracked a warm smile that would have caught her attention if she weren’t so married to her work. “You can never be too careful. Come aboard; two others are waiting for us up at the station.”

  They quickly strapped into the padded passenger seats and within minutes the pilot had them in the air on a steep upward trajectory.

  Soon, the sky transitioned from deep blue to black outside Leanna’s shuttle window. She gripped her flight harness and swallowed, taking slow, deliberate breaths to mitigate her nausea until the artificial gravity kicked in.

  “This is so surreal,” she commented once her stomach settled. “I never would have expected to be going on this kind of mission.”

  Sam, seated in a passenger seat across the central aisle, glanced toward the pilot up in the cockpit. “We’ll find a way through,” he said in vague terms, indicating that the pilot likely didn’t have security clearance regarding the true nature of the upcoming mission.

  Leanna took the hint and they flew the rest of the way to the orbital spaceport in silence. She used the time to scan through the situational brief that had been loaded onto her handheld during the advisory meeting. The brief was frustratingly vague about the specifics of the Bakzen attack on the freighter—not even detailing how many people had been onboard the ship, only that there had been a sole survivor. Any information regarding where the Bakzen had come from and what they had taken was completely absent from the notes. The only clear piece of intel was that the Bakzen had sent a text communication using a universal coded relay; it translated to a request for a diplomatic meeting with precisely four Taran officials at 16:00, adjusted Taran Standard Time.

  This is a joke! Why is this so incomplete? Leanna tried to read between the lines but she didn’t have close to enough clues to begin speculating.

  With new questions churning through her mind, Leanna turned her attention out the window as they approached the primary spaceport in orbit of Tararia. The sprawling structure was the planet’s primary hub for space traffic traveling between the capital and the surrounding worlds, serving the endpoint or origin for many of the subspace jumps that enabled commerce throughout the civilization. Kilometers of concourses branched from the central access, supporting crafts ranging from small shuttles to impressive cargo ships that could swallow the Priesthood’s entire island four times over. It had been so long since Leanna had been offworld that she allowed herself to marvel at the engineering feats.

  Protecting this is what’s at stake, she reminded herself. We can’t let it come to war.

  When the shuttle had completed docking procedures, Leanna unstrapped her harness and followed Sam out into the port, travel bag in hand. The metallic, filtered air of the station and a pervasive mechanical hum assaulted her as she stepped onto the station—a harsh reminder that she was no longer in the safe comfort of her home by the sea.

  “We have a cruiser waiting for us in the adjacent concourse,” Sam told her as he set off to the left.

  “A cruiser? This is supposed to be a diplomatic mission!”

  Sam frowned. “It is, but we’re not sure what we’re walking into and a small transport ship can’t offer any tactical support. The cruiser will drop us off in a shuttle at the rendezvous, then wait in the adjacent system.”

  Leanna groaned under her breath. “If this goes sideways, one cruiser won’t be able to help us.”

  “But it’s equipped for long-range monitoring and can report back,” Sam pointed out. “Let’s hope it doesn’t need to do any more.”

  Something in the commander’s tone indicated that he was following a far more complete set of orders than her own.

  “Have all the decisions about this mission been made without me?” Leanna asked.

  “We’ll go over the details when we’re with the others,” was his only response.

  They traversed the broad, glass-lined corridor connecting the two concourses. Panoramic windows arched eight meters overhead, with the view only interrupted by narrow metal supports at ten meter intervals and a thin beam along the apex of the arch. Due to the scale of the structure, they hopped on a moving walkway to expedite their transit through the throngs of civilian passengers.

  The cruiser, Leanna noted as they approached, was one of the newer models operated by the Tararian Guard, equipped with the latest weapons systems and defenses. Its hull gleamed with a pearlescent sheen under the station lights, and glowing blue inlays along the ship’s sides highlighted sculptural arches that swept toward the forked protrusion for the jump drive at the aft. Though it was a far cry from the offensive capabilities of a battleship, the ship did have elegance and speed on its side.

  I still feel better knowing we’ll have some backup rather than our shuttle being completely alone. She ascended the gangway connecting the concourse to the main hatch in the side of the ship.

  Once onboard, Sam led her through the monotone halls to a small conference room adjacent to the Command Center in the heart of the vessel. A woman and a man were waiting for them around the oblong table with a black touch-surface top.

  “Sir.” The man at the table inclined his head, lines in his dark features suggesting that his serious expression wasn’t isolated to the present situation. His dark gray Tararian Guard uniform showcased a tone physique.

  “Welcome back, Commander,” the woman greeted, evaluating Leanna with her green eyes. Her red, chin-length hair was secured into a half ponytail and she also wore the uniform of the Tararian Guard, tailored to her curves. “We’re stocked and ready to depart on your order.”

  “Thanks, Tonya.” Sam tapped the tabletop, bringing up a comm channel. “Matthews, take us out and initiate the jump when ready.”

  “Aye, sir,” a man replied over the comm.

  A moment later, Leanna detected a telltale vibration through the floor of engines warming up.

  “To Haelo?” Leanna asked as she took a seat the table.

  “Yes,” Sam confirmed. “So, Leanna Jordis, meet Tonya Ryaen, one of our top strategists, and Markus Wylard, a weapons specialist with our Special Ops.”

  Leanna eyed the two Tararian Guard officers. Even if they were to change into the most casual civilian clothes, there was no way either could pass as diplomats. “I’m sure you’re all very good at your jobs, but a weapons specialist isn’t exactly what I’d have in mind for a diplomatic envoy.”

  Sam sat down in the chair at the head of the table. “This is as much a fact-finding mission about the Bakzen as it is a treaty negotiation,” he said. “They may have offered a meeting, but we can’t take that at face value.”

  Stronger vibrations emanated through the floor as the ship prepared to jump. The shaking intensified for several seconds, then ceased as time appeared to elongate for a moment.

  Leanna placed a hand on her stomach until the ship had completed the transition to subspace. “I forgot how strange it feels.” She shook her head. “Anyway, that ‘brief’ was the least complete mission primer I’ve ever seen. Why the secrecy? I’m supposed to be leading this team!”

  Sam exchanged glances with the others. “You are leading the negotiations, yes, if we successfully open a dialogue. However, the Guard has its own set of contingency orders.”

  “Which are?” Leanna prompted.

  “Not pertinent at this time,” Sam replied, suddenly stoic.

  Leanna knew that face—the perennial stonewalling between military
leaders and their political counterparts. I’d be wasting my breath trying to get anything more out of him now. I can’t believe they’re sending me in without knowing the whole picture. She wiped her hand across her forehead. “All right, well what can you share? I need to have some context if I have any chance at a productive discussion.”

  Sam nodded his assent. “Tonya, why don’t you go over the details of the Bakzen attack?”

  “Well,” Tonya began, “the Haelo system isn’t populated, but it’s a common stopover point for freighters delivering supplies to the outer colonies—being the outermost beacon in the SiNavTech network. This particular freighter had dropped out of subspace at the beacon and was in transit through normal space when the Bakzen appeared.”

  “Just a single shield for defense,” Markus added. “They didn’t stand a chance.”

  “From what we can gather,” continued Tonya, “four Bakzen vessels comparable to our battleships appeared practically on top of the freighter—no approach indicated on subspace scans or the SiNavTech beacon network. The ships charged weapons but took no action at first.”

  “So how did the freighter respond?” Leanna prompted.

  “We’re not sure. There’s a gap in the security footage recovered from the site,” Tonya replied.

  Leanna’s heart sank. “Was it…?”

  “Completely destroyed,” Markus confirmed.

  Sam nodded solemnly. “The one survivor is in rough shape. He was found in an escape pod amid the wreckage—barely conscious. We called in the TSS to evaluate him, but it appears that his mind was broken.”

  “That kind of telepathic assault is nothing short of barbaric,” Leanna murmured.

  “Yes, horrific stuff.” Sam took a slow breath. “What’s most concerning about the freighter’s destruction, though, is that there’s no residual signature of weapon’s fire.”

  Leanna’s gaze flitted across the stoic faces of the three officers. “Then how was the ship disabled?”

  “It’s like it was ripped apart at the molecular level,” Markus said. “The TSS confirmed that a coordinated telekinetic attack is theoretically possible.”