Aurora Renegades

by G. S. Jennsen

  “No. If the next prime minister doesn’t require my services, so be it. I’ll retire quietly. And I don’t see any Prevos here today, Prime Minister. Not in the Assembly. Or on the Strategic Command Board, or among the officer ranks. It’s not Prevos who are demanding your resignation—it’s your citizens and their leaders.”

  Winslow did an admirable job of faking shock. “Resign? Absurd. I will do no such thing, nor will I bow to such preposterous and transparent grandstanding.”

  “We’ll see. I came here to ensure the truth made it past your clutches to the press and the people everywhere listening. I’ve done what I came to do, and now I’ll trust our institutions to do their duty as well and see that justice is served.”

  She happened to also be watching Minister Jameson move into position with two of his men, preparing to deliver yet worse news to Winslow. Security Ministry agents elsewhere were arresting several members of her administration even now, and Gagnon would shortly introduce a resolution of recall.

  Miriam reached one of the entrances dotting the upper walkway of the auditorium and turned to the door, then stopped and gazed back over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, did someone want to arrest me?”

  The press looked around at the security officers; the security officers looked at Jameson, followed by Gagnon; no one stepped forward.

  “Very well, then. Mr. Speaker, carry on with your hearing.” She walked out the door, intending to return to the Gambier and allow events to unfold as they would.

  Most of the reporters surged out of the chambers to surround her, so much so that Malcolm and Caleb both drew near to her in protective stances and a cadre of Jameson’s officers broke through the crowd to hold them back. Dozens of cams zoomed in the air above her.

  On their mission channel, she heard Jameson asking Winslow to remain on the premises, as he had some questions for her once Speaker Gagnon concluded the hearing.

  The shouts from the reporters overlapped one another. “Admiral Solovy, if Prime Minister Winslow is removed from office, will you give your support to Speaker Gagnon?”

  She surveyed the reporters dispassionately. “It has always been my practice not to endorse politicians. I have no reason to doubt the Speaker’s qualifications, and I trust the system, and ultimately the people, to make the right decisions. I’m merely here to serve a Constitutional administration.

  “But make no mistake—there is a blight in our government, one of cowardice and corruption. Whoever the next prime minister is, they and all government officials need to focus beyond the immediate crisis to the larger, more systemic problems and work to solve them.

  “But this blight is not mine to fix—it’s theirs. A free and vigorous press will help guarantee they do, so get to work.”

  39

  SENECA

  Cavare

  Intelligence Division Headquarters

  * * *

  Richard reviewed the latest status report from Agent Duarte. Five more suspected OTS members were now in custody; Quillen and three others had officially been charged with the Military Headquarters bombing and would remain in confinement pending their trials.

  It was beginning to feel suspiciously like they were closing the chapter on OTS, and not solely on Seneca. Everywhere.

  He minimized the report with an approving nod at Graham. “And peace is restored to the galaxy?”

  Graham snorted. “We should be so lucky. But maybe a little, yes? It’s not as if we can just wave our hands and make everyone accept Prevos. Society, not to mention the way crimes are committed and the way we solve them, has been upended, and I doubt the upheaval is over. But…I guess if most everyone accepts that it has been upended, then we’ll manage.”

  “True enough. Did I hear General Nolan Bastian was named interim Field Marshal?” He’d never personally met the man, but he’d spent a few minutes in a meeting the general had attended. Tall, intense man who gave the impression of constantly holding coiled energy in check.

  “Yep. Vranas wants to project the impression of normalcy. The Alliance government may be in shambles, but none of that silliness here, right? The appointment will probably be made permanent, though. Bastian’s a good man. Or a good officer, anyway. Speaking of the Alliance, what’s the latest from Miriam?”

  “She’ll have to testify before an Ethics Council tribunal, but it’s a formality. She’s already back in her office at EASC. General Foster resigned from Northwest Regional Command in protest, but no one cares.

  “The Assembly is holding a dozen hearings at once trying to cleanse its ranks and the administration’s ranks, but it’s messy. On the assumption the Supreme Judicial Court will invalidate BANIA next week, its leadership is also busy drafting a replacement law. I think they’re mostly stealing yours.”

  Graham laughed heartily. “They’re welcome to it.” He ran a finger along the rim of his glass. “Where do you see yourself ending up now? If everything plays out well for Miriam, you might be able to rejoin the Alliance.”

  It had nearly killed Richard to not be at Miriam’s side when she returned to Earth. Not because he felt she needed protecting—he was of the informed opinion that no one alive was more capable of taking care of themselves than Miriam Solovy—but because he wanted to be there to see her triumphant.

  Still, he shook his head. “As a consultant, perhaps, but not the military. I’m retired for good and…I’m okay with it. But as a matter of fact, I do have an idea I’m interested in pursuing. Something new. And I’ll need both your and Miriam’s help to implement it.”

  “Color me intrigued.”

  Richard rubbed at his chin. “It gets back to what you were saying about society being upended and our willingness to embrace our new reality. We—those of us on the front lines, such as they are—have an opportunity to help shape what the new world looks like, and to give it its best shot at succeeding. This trifecta of powers—Alliance, Federation, IDCC? It has the potential to be a more stable, positive arrangement long term.”

  “Gianno said much the same thing…” Graham’s gaze flitted to the window with a frown “…not long ago. The third player serves as a check if one government gets designs on bullying its opposite. Do you think the IDCC is a strong enough pillar, though?”

  “I think we should encourage them to be.”

  “You know something. Again.”

  Richard shrugged. “Intelligence? Wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t. And I will tell you, since it’s your job, too—but first, my idea.”

  Graham tossed a hand in his direction, and he continued. “These last few weeks, working to get Miriam the information she needed to execute on her strategy? I didn’t care what agency or government a source worked for as long as the intel was solid. I talked to friends, colleagues past and present, and individuals whose interests happened to briefly align with ours.

  “And you know what? It worked. I suspect it worked because most of the time, in most situations, the mission isn’t about galactic war or political crises—it’s about saving a life and catching a criminal.”

  “Big criminal this time.”

  “Yes. And while I do sincerely hope we don’t need to take down any more heads of state any time soon, a big galaxy means big criminals. I want to be able to stop them effectively, without tripping over politics.”

  Graham took a long, slow sip of his scotch. “You’re talking about intelligence sharing: a clearinghouse, a multi-jurisdictional agency or even a special group to be called upon when a significant threat arises. One like Montegreu, for instance. But you’re a low-key type of guy…so I’m betting on a mix of the first and second options.”

  Richard chuckled. “Funny you mention Montegreu. Miriam has possession of her data store—and you didn’t hear this from me, but she’s cracked its security. But arguably the IDCC has as much of a right to the spoils it produces as the Alliance. Something having that much relevance for all colonies ought to be handled by an independent third party.

  “I figure I’
ll let one of the Prevos burn a microsecond or two to come up with an appropriately mysterious name, complete with a forbidding acronym. But yes. We need an INTERPOL for a new world.”

  Graham’s brow furrowed. “Interpol?”

  He sometimes forgot not everyone had studied history in more than generalities. “A police IGO in the 20th and early 21st centuries. Almost two hundred countries managed to mostly ignore political boundaries and work together to catch cross-border criminals for over a century. It eventually fell to corruption, shortly before irrelevance, but that’s simply a matter of execution. The principle is sound.”

  Graham reached across the desk to refill Richard’s glass. Setting the tone for the evening. “And you’re going to head this new IGO?”

  Richard had never sought the limelight, never desired to be the man at the podium. But it had been an insane, harrowing year…and as Will had pointed out the night before, he hadn’t merely weathered the storm, he’d kind of kicked its ass. So he shrugged and took a sip of expensive scotch. “I am.”

  Graham guffawed. “As well you should. It’s bloody brilliant. We all ought to have thought of it before now, but we didn’t. You did, on account of you being smarter than the rest of us. I’m in, even if it means I’ll be left high and dry, again. I assume you’ll be enlisting Will to actually run the day-to-day of this thing, because why the hell wouldn’t you—and he’s better at that sort of work than you are.”

  Richard shook his head. “This ‘thing’ doesn’t have a name, much less a base of operations, charter or employees. It’s a little early for those discussions.”

  “Sure.” Graham’s eyebrow raised over his glass. He wasn’t buying it for an instant. And he was right…but there would be time for details later. For today, Richard decided, it was enough to be hopeful about the future.

  ROMANE

  Connova Interstellar Offices

  Noah lay on the couch and watched Kennedy work on spreadsheets and schem flows, acting like everything was all back to normal. It wasn’t—not exactly—but it felt like maybe it would be soon. A new normal, in some respects, and possibly a better one.

  He was so busy watching her, in fact, he was startled when she tossed an idle comment at him over her shoulder. “You know, your Dad did really well.”

  He propped up on an elbow. “So he spent a few days in a high-class confinement facility. Who hasn’t?”

  Her hands withdrew from the screens. She closed the distance to him, then knelt beside the couch and him. “Hey, he’s still an insufferable ass. But he did well.”

  “He did.” But Noah wasn’t necessarily ready to ponder on it yet, so he kissed her instead. “Speaking of troublesome parents, a birdie told me your dad came by earlier.”

  She instantly pulled away—which was cool, he expected that. “What birdie?”

  “The entrance security cam. Do you want to talk about it?”

  She glanced at him dubiously before standing and walking away.

  He rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “At least tell me what he had to say. Or what the result of the conversation was. These are things I kind of need to be made aware of, if only so I know how much nurturing you need tonight.”

  “All the nurturing. But I always need all the nurturing—I assumed it was the default assumption.” She groaned. “Fine. He wanted to make bygones be bygones. Water under the bridge. An unfortunate necessity of the circumstances. A dark period best forgotten.”

  “He wanted to un-disown you.”

  “Pretty much.” She took to meandering in an aimless circle around the room, dismissing the work screens when she passed them.

  He geared up to try to craftily maneuver his way through this multi-level, booby-trapped minefield…and stopped. He trusted her. Her judgment and her decision on the matter would be the right one, whatever it was.

  “You won. You made the right choices, in all the ways, and this proves it.”

  She looked over her shoulder to beam at him. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “You bet you did.” Emboldened by her reaction, he leapt up and swooped in to whisk her into his arms. “So, what did you tell him?”

  Her lips pursed in contemplation. “I told him…I was touched he’d make the effort to reach out in such a personal manner, and I was grateful he was willing to welcome me back into the fold. I told him how much our family had and would always mean to me—because it does and it will.”

  She paused.

  “Then I told him to go fuck himself.”

  “What?” He almost dropped her in shock. “But you could regain everything from your old life, while keeping all you’ve built since. Why give that up?”

  She gave him a dazzling smile. “I already have everything I want.”

  Oh man, way to melt his damn heart…. His lips had just met hers when he pulled back in suspicion. “You’re screwing with me, aren’t you?”

  Her jaw dropped in indignation—mock indignation. “I can’t believe you’d suggest I would do such a thing. I mean, granted, ‘Go fuck yourself’ might not have been the exact words I used.”

  “And the exact words you used were?”

  Her eyes grew unfocused, as if she struggled to recall them. “ ‘Thank you for the apology’…‘no, I don’t need any help, financial or otherwise, we’re doing great’…‘I’m not certain if we can make it for Christmas dinner or not, but I’ll be in touch soon.’ ”

  “That’s what I thought.” The idea of formal Christmas dinner at her parents’ estate was nightmare-inducing. It was okay, though. He’d survive it. “We should go to Christmas dinner. As a nominal peace offering.”

  She nodded pensively. “All right. On one condition: your father comes, too.”

  “Oh, that is low. Below-the-belt dirty fighter is what you are.”

  She grinned, brazenly pleased with herself. “So you’ll ask him then?”

  40

  EARTH

  Manchester

  * * *

  Devon skulked deep in the shadows of a cluster of verdant ferns nestled in the far corner of the Ernest Simon Conservatory.

  Despite the controlled environment inside, the air remained chilly, excusing his trench coat. Shadewraps would stand out in the overcast, damp weather, but his irises had shifted to an amethyst so dark they’d be mistaken for black from a distance—which was where he intended to stay.

  It probably wasn’t safe for him to be on Earth, not quite yet. The official government raids against Prevos had been halted, but BANIA wouldn’t be repealed until the Supreme Judicial Court overturned it or the Assembly had a new law ready to take its place, and neither was going to happen for a few more days. Many ordinary, uninvolved people still believed him to be as much of a terrorist as any OTS activist.

  So he didn’t advertise his presence. But he needed to be here.

  Abigail hadn’t enjoyed a large circle of genuine friends, but she did have a lot of professional acquaintances on Earth and across settled space, as well as extended family here in Manchester.

  The arboretum hadn’t struck Devon as being to Abigail’s tastes, but he turned out to be wrong. He’d never known she loved flowers. Well, he supposed he must have known it in the smallest way; the detail must have been buried somewhere in the morass of knowledge Annie had acquired from Valkyrie or in the information now strewn throughout the Noesis.

  I have decided I dislike intensely this human custom of funerals. Valkyrie agrees with me. She refused to attend.

  She forbade Alex from coming?

  Perhaps ‘argued strongly against’ is a more accurate phrasing. In retrospect, I should have done the same…but I realize you feel as strongly about the importance of being here.

  I can’t fault you for your perspective, Annie. But do you understand why we do this?

  I’m well-versed in the history of the ritual and its professed purposes. Yet I cannot help but think of Jules, of how we stood together with Abigail at her funeral, and now here we are once again. It is distressing to
me. They should not be gone to us, either of them. Not so swiftly. Humans need to devise a way to live forever.

  He chuckled under his breath. I’m sure we’re working on it. But have you ever considered the possibility that life won’t be as meaningful if you know it will never end?

  Considered and discarded.

  Okay, Annie, fair enough. We can talk about it more later. In a better setting.

  Ostensibly a private ceremony with an exclusive guest list, the spacious conservatory was nevertheless nearly full. People he didn’t recognize spoke in strings of accolades, praising Abigail’s intellect, her persistent quest for knowledge and the dividends that quest had provided to humanity as a whole and to innumerable individuals.

  Devon perked up when someone he did know stepped to the podium and spoke, bluntly but truthfully, about matters closer to his own heart.

  As she made her way back to her seat, Miriam Solovy zeroed in on him so quickly he may as well have a spotlight over his head.

  You shouldn’t be here. It’s still too risky.

  I’m being careful.

  She let it drop, but he took a half-step deeper into the ferns for good measure.

  Final solemn words were spoken by a man who claimed to be a member of Abigail’s family. Final rituals were intoned, and the guests began filing out. He slipped in among them and let himself be carried out into the cold, wet morning.

  When the departing crowd began to disperse he veered off to the left and across the park.

  He’d catch a levtram to the spaceport, then hop over to San Francisco and have some drinks with Ramon and Sayid before heading to…Romane? It seemed as good a place as any—better than most—to serve as his next temporary home. Besides, Annie preferred it to Pandora.

  “I thought I might find you here.”

  Devon froze. The voice cut straight through him with a power no shield could withstand.

  Slowly, cautiously, he turned around.

  Long blond hair spilled over her shoulders to mat into tangles in the rain. Did she not have a rainshade? Why not? At this rate she would soon be soaked to the bone.