by F Stephan
When he had arrived, the Nomoodforbullshit had just updated the Core Data Sphere with the latest news from the Adheek Sector. This was a technology he turned against the Federation often. Information could always be manipulated or distorted to his advantage. What a strange idea to share it among all planet. With the update, some data had flashed directly to the archbishop, alerting him that his latest plan had been thwarted, and the failure had sunk deep into him. He would have to rebuild a new agenda. Brian Evans, Sonter Namek, you’ll pay for this. His anger was cold. He was the chosen leader of the most powerful sect among the stars, and no one would annoy him without regretting it.
Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine. An instinct, dating back to the time when humans had hunted in the savanna with wooden spears, told him to sprint as fast as he could to the nearest exit. But the Other, as he called him, spoke, and he froze, bringing his legs closer to himself in a fetal position.
“You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”
Lapren jerked, his teeth gritting at the voice. It was at once too low and too high-pitched. He began to turn to face the stranger.
“Please, stay where you are. You’ve never needed to see me." The stranger was there, just at the edge of his vision. “Actually, that would be better if you were to be interrogated."
The bishop answered contemptuously, “Why would a bishop from the cult be interrogated? That would be an outrage and the faithful—”
“Would say nothing. You couldn’t make more blunders than you recently did." The sneer was modulated into a piercing shriek of laughter.
“We met some bad luck."
“One failure is bad luck. Two is a lack of planning."
“We couldn’t have anticipated those insolent whelps. An unknown pilot from Earth and the nearly rejected son of the trader. Bringing down our operation. No one . . .” Lapren was speaking fast, too fast. Beads of sweat rolled into his eyes.
“Yet, they did succeed. And your people failed. With your tracks visible for all. Amateur!” The Other snorted in contempt.
Lapren hadn’t felt like this since his novitiate in the church. Yet, doubt struck him. The Other might be right. After all, he had organized a hijacking attempt of a federation trade ship through a rogue planet, Lelet, and it had failed miserably. Now, the Federation was going to investigate. Fear gripped him. “No one on Lelet knows me. They could have guessed the trade route on their own."
“No.” The voice was almost shrieking again. “They are not smart enough to calculate an interception course like the one they executed. And your ship keeps a log of where you go.”
“What should I do?” The panic in Lapren’s voice was now audible.
“By the time the Federation arrives, no one will know what happened." The Other chuckled. “Plague has struck the capital city. I’d be surprised if anyone on the government survives. Nor in the city.”
“There are fifteen million people in that city,” blurted Lapren.
“Their life or yours?” Lapren bent his head. “And your ship’s logs have been erased. Fortunately, I had thought ahead of you.” The heavily accented words hurt Lapren with the sudden guilt of the deaths by the thousands he had wrought.
“Surely, on Fizhert, there is nothing left that incriminates us.” He tried to reassure himself as best as he could. Fizhert had been an Origin colony and had been carrying out secret research on the Ancients. Hoarding research data on the Ancients was one of the few crimes against the Federation Charter that bound humans together. That could get you killed. Worse, while digging for Ancient artifacts, they had woken an ancient AI that had wiped out the entire settlement. And the same brat had gotten his nose into this to save the day and rescue a few witnesses. What angered Lapren most was that the brat from Earth and his friend had found five spaceships there. I would have given my soul for those ships, he thought—although I may have done even worse.
“On the planet, no. The Federation has bombed everything. They don’t take chances with rogue AI.”
“Are there any other types of AIs?” Lapren, cowering in fear, jumped at the precise word. At his core, he was a courageous man. Only the Other could scare him like that.
“No, we do not believe so.”
Lapren shivered. No sane AI had been found since the Federation had begun its reunion of human planets. After the first encounters, the Federation had made a core value of cleaning the remaining ones by all means necessary, and all that were found were blasted to shreds. Lelet would now be close to a smoldering rock and its ecology would take at least a century or two to recover from the ordeal.
“This cannot be our fault? How could they imply . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Come on, priest! The Origin changed the original settlement report to hide the Ancient city. The Federation knows you were digging there and that you did not update the Core Data Sphere."
“I’ll be summoned?” Lapren didn’t really enjoy the prospect of a disciplinary hearing on Alkath, the Federation’s capital city. The cult was weak there.
“Yes. The true question is when. The Federation Council seems to be reflecting on it. They don’t have enough real proof to do more than give you a slap on the hands. Nothing serious for now. They’re probably looking for more. Our opponents may intervene as well to give them support.” Lapren was aware of these opponents but hadn’t been able to find who they were.
“What should we do?”
“We, nothing. You, be nice and very law abiding until further notice."
“But, your promise? We are nearing thirty years now . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Was I the one who sabotaged two golden opportunities?” The voice became acid, pouring on every nerve.
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to . . .”
“No, you didn’t. You have just drawn a lot of unwanted attention to us. And as you said, time is not on your side.”
Lapren’s shoulders slumped. “So, all of this will be for nothing. Cheating and lying.”
“Did I say that?” The honeyed voice was probably the worst from the Other. Every nerve shrieked for him to flee. “I have a new plan to obtain what you need. Sit and listen. Nothing is lost. We just have to resort to stronger options."
It took a while for Lapren to understand the new schema. The cost in human life was so horrendous his mind refused to accept it. By accepting it, he would risk the cult and everything he had built. But, there was also a chance he would get what he wanted. He was ill, had been for a long time now. At this stage of his life, he cared only about his own survival. At last, he surrendered.
“And the troublemakers? Those two who disrupted our plans?”
“We will take care of them. The core worlds are our hunting ground, and they’re flying straight into it. For now, set up a watch over those two birds. I want to know all about them, exotic as they are.” Lapren could do it. That was easy enough. “My agents will deliver a tool set to dispose of the boy. Follow their instructions. He won’t trouble you anymore.” This was the first time the Other had directly helped him. Lapren wondered what he would receive. “By the way, get me a foothold on Earth! I want that planet under direct surveillance." He nodded. He had already thought about it. “Now, get ready for your part.” The presence receded into the shadows and disappeared. For a while, Lapren shivered from the aftereffects of the Other. He had never found out who the Other was. Yet, its intelligence into the Federation decisions had always been perfect. And its promises had met the only real desire in his own heart.
After a long time shaking, he slowly got up, not trusting his legs to bear his own weight. He walked back toward the main concourse and the other inhabitants from the station, looking for an exceedingly rare feeling for him, safety in numbers.
Leandra
Transit between Adheek and Volpre, 2140 AD, June
Leandra Cipriani would be the first ambassador from Earth to Alkath, where the Federation Council had its headquarters, and was proud of it. She had been Don Mariano’s ass
istant, had worked for a long time in Geneva for the Unified Government, and had waited a long time for such an opportunity. She took care of her appearance, a dignified woman in her fifties with brown curly hair, cropped short, serious but accessible. Being much smaller than Emily and a bit underweight helped her project her welcoming aura, which seemed especially important today.
“I don’t want to go.” Brian sounded childish, but he had clearly come to say it. He had asked for a meeting with the ambassador and they had borrowed one of the two offices used by the crew for business meetings. It was a simple room: an ornate wooden desk, two large chairs lit by an old metal lamp. Hydroponics took up the rest of the room—no space was left unused. “Madam, my father told me never to leave unfinished business. I’ve lived through this already once on Earth. I left the Chicago suburbs for the University Secure Enclave. I don’t want to live through it again.”
“What do you suggest?” Leandra sat, her back straight, her face showing no emotions. She hadn’t had time to have kids back on Earth, but she felt like she was facing a temper tantrum.
“I could go back to Earth and help Wilfried and Tasha pilot Charon.” Charon was the first ship capable of hyperspace jumps for Earth, one of the ships Brian had found. His friends Wilfried, Leopold, and Tasha were flying it back to Earth with the help of Captain Derantor with whom Brian had cruised for a year.
“What would be the point of that?”
“Three is not enough for nonstop flight. A fourth pilot would improve their efficiency, and Earth needs it.” Brian had lived through this strain and knew well what his friends would endure. “I have flown this ship and I’m good at it.”
“True enough. And they would need this help, day after day.” She pondered his words one by one.
“Yes, Madam, this would be better.” Brian jumped on it, looking for an exit. “And I could maybe fly my own ship if it can be repaired on Volpre. It would help us as well.”
“That is your call, Brian, and I won’t make the decision for you. The Federation guarantees your freedom to choose. You’ve to work for them. Twenty years as an intrasystem pilot. Ten years as an interstellar pilot. If you want to come back, we can find a berth on a ship for you on Volpre. And if your ship is repaired, it will help us.”
Brian breathed in relief. “Thank you, Madam.”
She continued unabated. “There’s something you should know. A scout won’t help Earth. Think carefully, Brian. Earth needs more support than Charon. A lot more if we’re to survive. If you go and you don’t succeed, we still learn more, and you give the next one who goes more of a chance of making it through. Now, we could lease your ship and that would help us a little.”
Brian rose and paced between the plants. “Do I have a choice?”
She forced herself to remain calm in the eye of the storm. “Yes. But you’ve got the right to know the stakes. The real stakes. The Federation doesn’t have enough pilots. If Earth can bring two starpilots within ten years of becoming a member, they’ll do all they can to help us and obtain more pilots from us. Some planets send a pilot every ten years. They need five per planet and per year to man all the ships. We’ve ten students following you this year on Adheek and fifteen scheduled for next year. If we prove our worth, credit will be flowing our way. Think of what you can bring to us.”
She raised her hands and her prepared 3-Ds appeared in the room with the latest reports from Earth, the ones they had received before leaving Adheek. He took the time to look at them, and she let him review them without comments. She knew them by heart, having spent her night on them. The yearly decrease in population was slowing now but still betrayed a massive drop compared to the previous century. They monitored every year Gaia’s day, the day where Earth used the planet for a full year. It had been pushed back to July and Earth now used in six month what should last a full year. Energy was rationed. Radioactive deserts forbade access to large parts of the planet. And the worst were the plagues that continued to erupt and scar the population. “The Federation has promised devices to reclaim radioactive lands. A first batch will fly with Charon back home. They aren’t enough. We need fusactors, nanoplants, gene engineering, and all sorts of technology boosts if we’re to survive.” Her voice turned desperate despite herself. “If we don’t break the drop in population, there’ll be no one left within a century on Earth.”
Brian remained stubborn. “But if I bring my ship back, we can hire a pilot to trade for us. We could bring all the medicine we need from Adheek or other worlds close by. And the Federation would still support us.”
“They would. You’re right.” Her voice was slow but hopeful. “This is why you’ve got a choice, dear boy. Now, you’ve got some time until Volpre. Use it well.” I’m sorry, Brian. I’m really sorry for you.
Brian
Two days out of Volpre, 2140 AD, July
Two days out from Volpre, Master Heikert summoned Brian, still gloomy, to his cabin. Brian had kept himself busy since his talk with Leandra, flying as often as he could, avoiding all the talk about their future destination. But, after the first joy of jumping again, he was now beginning to get bored by the constant repetition. The route was known by heart by the crew, every act a simple reflex. He had no choices, no freedom here, just the joy of crossing into hyperspace.
Brian knocked, and the door slid open to reveal a small cabin. A desk occupied its center with two chairs and clear space for large 3-Ds. Three of the walls were richly decorated with handwoven tapestries. A flowering tree, sustained by its own hydroponic plant, occupied the last wall. For people who remained in space for months or years in a metal contraption, every organic life was precious.
“How’s the trip so far? Compared to theoldcow with Captain Derantor?” The question was casual, noncommittal. Brian wasn’t used to small talk with his teacher and wondered what this meant. He thought for a moment about his life on the other ship, learning his trade during those unexpected adventures.
“Quiet, sir. I’m learning less but probably better. I received news from Captain Derantor. She wished me luck and prosperity.”
“Good on you. How do you feel?” The voice became serious. This is the reason why you asked me to come.
“Much better, thank you, sir.” This was true. After their final exams and their departure from Adheek, they had had two weeks of rest on the space station, working easy shift to support the crew. Then, life on the ships had allowed him further rest. Physically, he felt back in shape.
“I’m happy to hear that. Last year, I sent you on theoldcow to discover more of your skills. It worked fine but it pushed you to the edge of nanite usage.” The tiny robots took a little energy from the body to carry out their tasks, and if one used them too much or too fast, one could suffer terrible injuries or simply die. Brian, without any alternatives, had pushed his nanites way beyond the limits, and still felt himself on the verge of losing control.
“Doctor Nilse cleared both Sonter and me, sir, before departure. We have recovered our capacities with nanite,” Brian answered, hiding his own fears, and smiled. “There were other warnings, sir, and very harsh words on what we did with Sonter. He also explained how our use of nanites may be troubled for a few months, as a consequence.” Brian had been lucky he had had with him the son of the pilot guild master on Adheek. Otherwise, he suspected the doctor would have had even stronger words.
At that, Master Heikert replied sadly, “The Doctor cannot ever forgive himself when something happens to one of the students. Strange things happen in our job.”
Brian swallowed. When the nanites had run wild, his body had distorted into strange shapes out of his control. Even though he had lived that time in a virtual world, his body still remembered the pain.
Heikert was watching him, eyes locked on his. “I see you understand. You’ve got scars now, scars that will last. There are things you’ll never be able to do again now.” The final words were hammered slowly. “You have noticed how nervous our captain is before jumping. Once,
he was leading one of our warships when Fild went rogue. He had to jump from inside a star and he overused his nanites. Since then—thirty years—he hasn’t dared do more than simple jumps.” Brian had heard, mostly from Shanak, about the few warships from the Ancients that were recovered and how demanding it was to pilot one of them. He had never felt what his friend truly meant. Now, the images sprang to life. Brian had been severely burned during the invasion of Chicago by critters. They had fought days and night the insects with fire, and he had retained a strong fear of even the smallest flame since then. He shuddered, stepping back.
“I’ve heard you’ve got questions about your future on Alkath.” Heikert waved away Brian’s objection. “Ships are small, you know.”
Brian’s shoulders slumped. “Sir, I already had a tough time on Adheek, you know it well. You tell us it’s going to be worse on Alkath. I’m not sure I’m up to it. I’ve faced a lot last year.”
Heikert looked at him for an agonizingly long time before answering. “You talked with your ambassador?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “I had the same conversation once. For my own reasons, I didn’t want to go. I won’t offer any reassurance and pretty talk. I hated Alkath during all my time there, and still do now.” The harsh words and the buried memories behind them dismayed Brian. Heikert was reputed to have been one of the most brilliant scouts of the Federation, to have flown everywhere that was possible. “I can only offer you two insights.
“The first is that no pilots from the outlying worlds will judge you. None of your peers will comment on your decision. Even the most foolish of the core worlds pilots will support you.” Brian had known this from his work with Captain Derantor, but he had needed to hear it. This was a core rule of the Federation, enforced by its pilots. They guaranteed freedom of choice. His planet might not accept it, he might never be able to come back to where he had grown up, but he was free. If his family or friends got in trouble, the fearsome Federation Marines would be sent to extract them. Still, there would be consequences if he refused; he wasn’t entirely free.
