The waters steamed, a fragrant aroma of lily, rose and hyacinth upon which a carpet of bubbles sparkled and burst; blue like an ocean, inviting and sensuous.
Georgia Maricic lowered her naked body into the pool, the bubbles rising to meet her. She allowed the water to close over her until it lapped at her chin. She inhaled deeply, savored the scents, and exhaled. The movement barely rippled the water. Slowly, luxuriously, she stretched out until the pink tips of her toes broke water at the far end of the pool. She wiggled them, and allowed every muscle to relax.
She smiled, and not merely at the pleasure of the bath, although that was a luxury she alone of all the humans on Covenant could enjoy. The negotiations were proceeding better than she’d expected. Gellner appeared to be keeping his temper in control—at least in public. She’d seen signs, though, that it might be edging towards the surface, and Iverson had confirmed that impression. Travers was willing to be stiff-backed when the need arose—not conciliatory at every step like she’d expected. Stalker and Koharski took back seats for the most part, although Maricic sensed they were ready to jump in if the need arose. Halaffi, for all her posing and posturing, was proving to have a willingness to confront the essentials, and not waste time on peripheral issues.
As long as Lafrey’s mission was successful…
Maricic sighed and closed her eyes.
Lafrey could return and prove the truth of the freelancer Watford’s investigation. In which case the negotiations would collapse and the Navy would have a major mission to undertake to neutralize the threat.
Or she could disprove the rumors, in which case the negotiations could proceed.
Or she could do neither, and fail to return—in which case another agent would be sent, and another, until at last one succeeded.
Maricic yawned, drowsy.
However it turned out, the situation was manageable.
If she had to bet on the outcome…
Maricic smiled again. She liked to have her bets covered.
She ran her hands over her body, rubbing in the oils from the water, enjoying the suppleness of her still-young skin, and the gentle curves of her shapely figure.
The intercom in her suite chimed.
“Answer,” she called.
“Communications, Member Maricic. There’s a message in your private code.”
“Priority?”
“No listing, Member.”
“Route it through.”
Maricic yawned again and ducked her head beneath the water, shaking her hair when she came up again. She emerged from the pool, dried herself, and slipped into a flowing silk robe, white, with scarlet dragons embroidered along the fringes.
The communication was in her incoming file. She ran it through the decoder and studied the result.
“Markher 12. How very interesting. I believe, Commander Lafrey, that you have not disappointed us.”
She blanked the file, and opened a communication link, bypassing CommCentral. The Roessler-wave pulse crossed a half-billion kilometers nearly instantaneously.
A man’s face appeared on the screen. “Remorseless. Lieutenant Williams.”
“This is Central Committee Member Maricic, Lieutenant. Get me Second Admiral Vespage.”
He snapped to attention. “Right away, Member.”
The lieutenant’s face faded, to be replaced by the middle-aged, patrician features of Miriam Vespage.
“Good evening, Admiral,” Maricic said.
“Member Maricic.” Vespage nodded a respectful greeting. “How may I be of assistance?”
“A certain…very delicate situation has arisen, Admiral. I hope otherwise, but I fear the negotiations may be in jeopardy.”
Vespage sucked in her breath. “Will they collapse?”
“Too early to tell. But be prepared. Put the Third Fleet on standby alert, ready to engage at a moment’s notice.”
Vespage seemed at a loss for words. She recovered quickly. “Of course, Member,” she said. “But fleet positioning is a touchy area. If the Gara’nesh detect increased activity—”
“I’m fully aware of that,” Maricic replied. “You’re not to act unless the situation warrants it, on direct order from me. Take precautions that your readiness is not made too obvious.”
Vespage nodded. “Yes, Member.”
“Who is the Third Fleet’s current second?”
“Second Admiral Kowalchuk.”
“Very good. You may alert him, but otherwise the situation is to remain confidential. Let the crews believe the maneuvers are merely routine.”
“Yes, Member.”
“Please initiate immediately.”
“Yes, Member. Vespage out.”
Satisfied with the arrangements, Maricic toyed with the idea of returning to the bath. But her skin still tingled with pleasant warmth, and there was other, more important business to be done.
For now, the situation with Jade Lafrey seemed to be under control.
She touched her commlink. “Iverson.” When the major answered, she said, “Report to me in my quarters,” and cut the link before he could respond.
NINE
Jade lay awake in bed, thinking, idly twirling her bracelet around her wrist. The soundproofed walls of her quarters eliminated even the quiet hum of Starwind’s drive, leaving her alone with her reflections.
Starwind bored effortlessly through the eerie non-world of Roessler-space, traversing in days distances which required centuries in realspace.
Perhaps not since Einstein revolutionized physics had anyone affected the course of human history as much as Hilda Roessler. Theories of parallel universes and alternate dimensions had abounded since the 20th Century, but it was Hilda Roessler a century later who originated the version which bore her name.
She should have received a Nobel Prize, but instead endured years of derision and died in obscurity. But her concept of a universe honeycombed by dimensional shortcuts caught the imagination of another young physicist—Wilfred Markher. His detection of transition waves in 2199 vindicated Hilda Roessler and paved the way for the Expansion.
The untangling of Roessler-spatial geometry came in the early years of the 23rd century followed decades later by the technology needed to traverse Roessler-space. And the face of human civilization changed forever.
Confined to one solar system, humanity’s future in the late 2100's had seemed bleak. Battered by wars, pollution, a changing climate, and an assortment of natural disasters—and despite the best efforts of various governments, groups, and the Church—the Earth, once humanity’s Garden of Eden home, was becoming increasingly untenable. The terraforming of Mars proceeded at snail’s pace, and none of Sol’s other children were suitable for more than small colonies.
Locked into a dead-end, humanity stared extinction in the face.
“Good riddance,” declared those who considered humanity an unlamentable evolutionary failure whose time had run its course.
“We deserve it,” said others who saw the threatened destruction as God’s judgment upon Earth. “Watch and wait,” said some who looked for God to intervene to save erring humans from their folly.
The most optimistic or desperate floated a multitude of plans to save the Earth and humanity. Would they have succeeded? Markher’s work rendered the question moot.
Because now, stars which had once seemed impossibly distant, reachable only by automated probes or proposed generation ships traveling for several lifetimes, suddenly became next door neighbors, in some cases literally only a few days or weeks away. A surprising number of easily accessible stars were found to have planets suitable for human occupation. The reprieve was embraced. The Expansion was underway!
Freed from Earth, which had become a prison, and with the resources of the galaxy at its disposal, humankind fled to the stars.
Now humanity occupied a multitude of worlds, scattered haphazardly in space. Some, like First, the closest to Earth (Tau Ceti a mere twelve light years from Sol), or Greatmount, circling De
lta Pavonis, flourished and supported dense populations and industry. Those on the fringes maintained a tenuous hold on civilization. Others, colonized by bands of adventurous explorers or refugees during the Expansion and then forgotten, awaited rediscovery.
Still other worlds lay empty, colonization attempts having failed, the human presence faltering until it disappeared. In time, new colonists would try again.
And concurrently, the one-world government that had emerged from the chaos had evolved into the repressive organism of the Hegemony.
Sometimes, Jade wondered if the discovery of a practical means of interstellar travel had really been such a blessing. Not only had the first starfarers, seeking a new life, taken along their equipment, supplies, their husbands and wives and children and pets, the accumulated treasures of human culture, they had also taken along every evil of which humanity was capable.
“A shining empire of the stars!” had been the rallying cry, calling multitudes to the glamour and the hardships of a new frontier.
The empire was a reality. But the shine had disappeared at the first contact with the Gara’nesh. Humanity discovered, to its consternation, that it was not the only intelligent species in the universe, and not the most advanced. A few differences existed, but taken as whole, the aliens were humanity’s equal.
Gara’nesh: Welcomed by some, feared by others, the cause of untold religious upheavals. Unpleasant bedtime stories to scare small children. Demons from hell. Competitors in the struggle for existence. Potential friends. Hostile enemies. Partners. Evolutionary throw-backs.
As many viewpoints existed as there were people to hold them, despite the fact that due to Political Bureau censorship, very few people had even the slightest inkling what the aliens were like, and even fewer cared.
One thing was certain. The early relations between humanity and its alien neighbors had deteriorated rapidly. Which side shouldered the blame, or what comprised the precipitating incident were questions impossible to answer, unless one chose to believe the official histories written by the Political and Ideological Bureau, which, of course, fingered the Gara’nesh.
But a protracted war of attrition had erupted, which neither side seemed capable of terminating.
Until now.
Jade threw back the lavender covers of her oversized bed, letting the cooler air invade the snug hollow her body had made. She pulled on her blue and white uniform and went in search of Kuchera.
She found him in the lounge, absorbed in study at a computer monitor. Neilson sat at a table across the room, finishing her breakfast with slow, methodical movements.
“Everything all right, Neilson?” Jade asked.
Neilson swallowed and nodded. “Running smoothly, ma’am.”
“ETA?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
“Good.” Jade helped herself to a fruit assortment and joined Kuchera. “What’s my favorite writer composing today? More never-to-be-published notes? Another thrilling chapter in the life of Charles Stalker? An epic?”
“I,” Kuchera said, waving an airy hand, “am engaged in speculation.”
“Speculation?” Jade bit into an apple and sucked the sweet juice before it could drip. “Will Stalker approve of you creating an imaginary life for him?”
Kuchera gave her a superior look down the length of his nose. “In the interests of proving my value to this enterprise I have set my mind to imagining what sort of weapon we could be up against.”
Jade was conscious of Neilson’s sudden interest. She beckoned. “Join us, Lieutenant.” She took another bite of apple.
Neilson stowed her dishes and sat down on Kuchera’s other side.
“What a position to find myself in,” Kuchera said, affecting a beatific smile. “Surrounded by women. Sought after for my brains instead of my overwhelming physical attractiveness—”
Jade cut him off. “Take us into realms of imagination, Troy.”
He gave her a mock frown and became serious. “To start with,” he began, “I based my speculations on existing technology. We’ve all read stories where the hero invents a prototronic ray gun capable of blasting through the villain’s shields just in the nick of time, or encounters some new type of radiation that nobody’s ever heard of before that just happens to turn his captain into a blood-sucking monster or his ship to jelly, or something equally inane.”
“There may be new developments that none of us is aware of,” Jade said. “After all, we aren’t scientists, and weapons programs are shrouded in secrecy.”
“True, but if none of us have heard about them, we can’t pretend either to know what we’re looking for, or defend against them.”
“Logical.”
“On the other hand, any new weapon has to be experimental enough or dangerous enough that its development requires use of a planetary system of no value and far enough from civilization that it’s unlikely to be visited.”
Jade nibbled her apple down to the core and moved on to a pear. “Also logical.”
“I’ve eliminated biological weapons as too primitive, too hard to disseminate, and too likely to damage a planet’s biosphere.” Kuchera looked around. “Agreed?”
“I doubt the Gara’nesh care about the ecology of our planets,” Neilson said, “since they can’t use them without extensive planet-forming.”
“To my understanding, Gara’nesh culture possesses an ingrained respect for the natural world,” Jade countered. “Much more than ours has exhibited in the past. But war changes things. Still, I agree with the other objections.”
“Point accepted?” Kuchera asked.
“Yes,” Jade said.
Kuchera continued, “Computer weapons are equally likely to be unsuccessful. We utilize a variety of different systems, the Gara’nesh use an entirely unrelated quantum bubble matrix, and shutting down every computer across a multitude of worlds on every ship and base and outpost, while it might be possible, I think it is unlikely.”
“OK.”
“Possibility number one: The Gara’nesh have found a way around von Lassen’s limit.”
“That’s a basic physical principle,” Neilson countered. “A Roessler-space containment field will not function adequately in the presence of a sufficiently strong gravitational field.”
“Yes, but—” Kuchera began.
“Even so,” Jade supplied, “all it means is that defenses would have to moved in closer. Not an insuperable problem, and certainly no cause for alarm.”
Kuchera held up a hand. “I bow to your superior knowledge. Cross it off. The second possibility: They’ve developed a graser.”
“Gamma ray laser,” Neilson mused. “That could be a war-breaker.”
“The power requirements are incredible,” Jade said. “That’s why we’ve never designed a practical one. Plus the problems of maneuvering such a device into range.”
“But it’s a possibility,” Kuchera insisted. “Even the threat of it might be enough to force the Hegemony into submission.”
“Keep it on the list.”
“Three. A further use of Roessler-spatial theory. To whit, a Roessler-spatial bomb.”
Jade twined a strand of hair around her finger. “There have been rumors and theories about those for years.”
“I’ve written about some of them.”
Neilson added, “As far as I’m aware, nobody knows what such a device would do. Would it be like entering Roessler-space without a containment field, or would it involve a massive release of energy? I’ve heard speculation either way.”
“Imagine ships—or even whole worlds—simply disappearing, or blowing up without warning,” Jade shivered.
“The problems,” Neilson said, “have been the same. The power requirements, for starters. And von Lassen’s limit means you can’t suddenly drop a bomb out of Roessler-space into the middle of a planet.”
“But if it’s a bomb, where you don’t care as much about structural integrity as you would a ship with people on board, maybe it’s
possible,” Jade said.
“It would have to be pretty massive.”
“An assumption,” Jade said. “Likely, but we have no way of knowing.”
Kuchera’s head had been rapidly turning between the two women. “Do I take it that’s a possibility?” he said.
“Definitely,” Jade replied. “A very scary one.”
“That’s as far as I got.”
“Not bad for an amateur,” Jade commended.
Kuchera beamed.
“I discovered something interesting,” Neilson volunteered.
Jade raised an eyebrow at the pilot and signaled for her to proceed.
“What I discovered is that while Markher 12 may seem to be in the middle of nowhere, it’s actually within easy striking range of both Ashton’s Star and Alpha Australis IV.”
“Taking out Windward Naval Command would cripple our ability to wage war on the frontier,” Jade said. “And Weston’s World—I’d rather not imagine that.”
“It could mean the Hegemony would have to sue for peace under very unfavorable conditions,” Neilson said.
“In that case,” Jade concluded, “it gives us more of a reason to succeed, doesn’t it?”
She looked at Kuchera. The writer seemed to have entered a world of his own. It wasn’t hard to guess the reason. Kuchera was a native of Windward, born under the blue blaze of Ashton’s Star. His whole family—parents, grandparents, cousins—lived there.
She could tell from his expression that the situation had taken on an entirely new meaning for him.
War did that. It had an unfortunate way of becoming all too personal.
Parsecs distant from where Starwind pursued her course from Sander’s Star to Markher 12, the negotiations on Covenant had ceased for the day. The two warring parties had retired to their own halves of the center.
In the human D sector restaurant, First Admiral Cylena Koharski sipped cautiously from a cup of tea. She blew gently on the surface of the liquid and then added another dollop of milk.
Wreaths of Empire Page 20
