Wreaths of Empire

by Andrew M. Seddon

  “No,” Jade said. “Scan’s clear. Normal clutter on the electromagnetic spectrum. No ships registering. No abnormal levels of particle emissions.”

  She leaned back and exhaled. She felt limp.

  “Somebody could still be here,” Kuchera said. “A concealed base on a planetoid.”

  “Hmm. What are you getting on that turbulence, Neilson?”

  The pilot touched a control. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe what?” Jade was sharp.

  “I see it, but…” A smaller screen winked to life. “This, ma’am.”

  Jade studied the complicated display. “These are the Roessler-space shock waves that caused the turbulence? What’s their point of origin?”

  “There.” Neilson pointed at the red giant.

  “Markher 12?”

  Neilson nodded. “It’s exploded. Gone supernova.”

  Jade’s heart paused, then lurched back into rhythm. She gazed at the visual of the red giant. Markher 12 appeared innocent, an aging star fading into oblivion, not a star that had succumbed to a devastating explosion; an explosion releasing enough deadly radiation—cosmic, gamma and ultraviolet rays—to pose a threat to life on any planet unlucky enough to be within ten to fifteen light years.

  Kuchera was the first to break the stunned silence. “But it’s still there,” he protested, gesturing to the fat, glowing orb.

  Jade waved a hand at him. “We’re seeing Markher 12 as it was a year ago, Troy. The radiation and light from the supernova haven’t reached here yet. Roessler-spatial waves have passed this point already.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Kuchera flushed with embarrassment.

  “But it’s impossible,” Jade continued. “It can't have gone supernova.”

  “Why not?” Kuchera asked.

  “It’s not big enough. You need a star with a minimum of two solar masses to go supernova. Before it left the main sequence, Markher 12 was 1.7 solar masses. Far too small. It should just shrivel into a white dwarf.”

  Jade remembered the fusion sequence she’d learned in school. Hydrogen to helium to carbon to neon to oxygen to silicon and then to iron. And iron didn’t fuse. A star that hit iron in its core would implode, the collapse releasing enormous energy that tore the star apart.

  “But something happened,” Neilson said.

  Kuchera wiped the v of his hairline. “Good thing you decided to drop us out, Jade,” he said.

  “We’d never have known what hit us,” Neilson said. “Guess you were right, ma’am.”

  “Uh, shouldn’t we move a little further away?” Kuchera asked. “We don’t want to get caught in that.”

  “Can the computer extrapolate from the Roessler-spatial waves and tell us when the nova occurred?” Jade asked.

  Neilson inputted the request. After a brief wait, the computer created a projection.

  “About two months ago, ma’am.”

  “Two months,” Jade mused. “Loads of time before the realspace shock wave reaches us. Even allowing for a large margin of error.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Kuchera said. “But it’s a pity. Whatever was on any of those planetoids has been vaporized.”

  “Nothing to do but notify the Science Division,” Neilson commented. “There’s no chance of us finding anything here now."

  “So much for Trevarra,” Kuchera lamented. “She sold us the location of a new supernova.”

  “I guess so,” Jade said softly, a dull weight in her stomach. “Six hundred of Member Maricic’s money wasted. She will not be pleased.”

  “So we start all over,” Kuchera soothed. “All is not lost.”

  Jade slammed a fist on her armrest. “I was so sure we’d find something.”

  “Nothing is something,” Kuchera suggested.

  Jade glared.

  “Going too smoothly,” he said.

  Jade stared. “Say that again?”

  Kuchera repeated himself. “I said everything was going too smoothly. Why?”

  “What does it mean when something is too easy?”

  “Either you’ve been incredibly lucky or it’s a set-up.”

  “A set up,” Jade repeated. She rounded on her pilot. “Who’s your employer, Neilson?”

  Neilson gasped, her coarse features slack with shock. “Pardon me, ma’am?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Jade—” Kuchera began. “That’s not—”

  “Not now, Troy. Well, Neilson?”

  “You, ma’am.” Neilson switched her gaze from Jade to Kuchera. He said nothing. She looked back at Jade.

  Jade tapped a finger on the console. “Lieutenant, I was ambushed and nearly killed on Southern Cross. We almost transitioned into a supernova. This is no time for playing games or concealing anything you might know.”

  Neilson bristled. “I swear to you, I have no idea who was behind the ambush.”

  “Or how they knew where to find us.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Or that Markher 12 had gone supernova.”

  “No, ma’am.” Neilson returned Jade’s stare. “Do you think I’d have suggested transitioning into a supernova?” Her voice scaled upwards.

  She had a point, Jade thought, although fanaticism and suicide made common bed partners.

  “No other connections?”

  “No!”

  Finally, Jade nodded. “Very well, Neilson.”

  Neilson licked her lips. “If you’re looking for suspects, ma’am—” She broke off.

  “Yes?”

  Neilson cast a nervous glance towards Kuchera.

  Jade’s breath hissed in.

  Kuchera jumped into the momentary silence. “She’s right, Jade. To be fair, if you’re looking for suspects, you must consider me. I’ve had as much opportunity as anyone.”

  “That’s ridic—” She stopped in mid-sentence. Neilson and Kuchera exchanged a worried glance.

  “Oh my,” Jade murmured. Weakness surged over her. She put a hand to her chest and stared at the unwinking eye of the red giant. “Oh my.”

  “What is it?” Kuchera grasped her upper arm. “Tell me, Jade.”

  “What you were saying yesterday, Troy, about weapons. What if this isn’t a natural supernova at all?”

  Kuchera started. Neilson clapped her hands to her face.

  The orange-red orb of Markher 12 glowed innocently, revealing none of the awesome fires that had ripped the tortured star apart.

  Jade whispered, “What if that’s the weapon?”

  Kuchera worked his mouth fruitlessly, then recovered. “We have to let Command know!” he blurted. “If the target is Covenant’s star and the Third Fleet—”

  “We don’t know that,” Jade said.

  “What else could it be?”

  “Why haven’t the Gara’nesh used the weapon already, then?” Jade countered.

  “I don’t know.” Kuchera cast about. “Maybe it takes time to move it. Maybe it’s not operational. Maybe—”

  “All right, all right.” Jade shook her head. A dull throbbing had developed in her temples. “Take us out of here, Neilson. Transition when ready. Resume course for Covenant. Maximum speed.” She stood up. “I need to think.”

  Kuchera rose too.

  Jade shook her head slightly. She made a movement with her finger towards Neilson and towards his seat. Kuchera nodded and sat back down.

  “Katarina, is it?” he asked.

  “Karenina.”

  “Karenina. How about giving me some background about what it means to be a pilot for the local commander of Intelligence…”

  Jade made her exit.

  Kuchera joined Jade in the lounge a couple of hours later, when Starwind had reentered Roessler-space and Neilson had retired to her quarters, leaving the ship on automatic.

  “So,” he said, as he lowered himself into the papasan. “Have you reached any decisions? Are you going to call Maricic?”

  Jade ran her hands through her hair and tilted her neck so her head rested
on the back of the couch. Her headache had subsided, but she felt drained. “Yes, but not immediately.”

  “No? How can you not alert her?”

  “Because…because there’s something not right about this,” Jade replied.

  Kuchera grimaced. “Would you care to be more specific?”

  “I’d love to, but for the life of me I can’t come up with anything. Lots of suspicions, no hard evidence.”

  “Female intuition?”

  Jade grimaced. “Intuition, hunch, premonition, spiritual urging, whatever.”

  “I hate to be the voice of impending foreboding doom,” Kuchera said, “but if we return and find that Covenant is vaporized, or the Third Fleet has been annihilated…that’s an awesome responsibility.”

  Jade rose and paced across the lounge. “Don’t I know it. But look at the other side. If this is a natural phenomenon, and I call Maricic and the conference collapses, think how many people will die in that scenario. For no reason.”

  Kuchera remained seated. “Tough call.”

  “More than tough. I wish one of us knew enough about stellar evolution to hazard an informed guess if the supernova was natural or not.”

  “Astrophysics was never my strong suit.”

  “Nor mine.”

  Kuchera spoke softly. “Is the incident on Southern Cross still bothering you?”

  “Yes,” Jade replied before wondering why Kuchera brought it up. Sometimes the mental connections he made baffled her.

  She wandered to the far side of the room and filled a glass with bitterfruit juice. “Let me run this by you. I think you’re right. This feels like a set-up. I’m not sure I can explain it, but…”

  She leaned against the wall to sip her drink. “Lieutenant Fromberg—with me the last person to see Nate Watford alive—dies in a shuttle crash. Politicals try to kill me on Southern Cross. Nate’s file courtesy of Trevarra leads us to a supernova. What does that spell to you?”

  “A plot on our side?” Kuchera guessed.

  “Exactly. Regardless of what the Gara’nesh are doing, the Politicals are up to something else.”

  “Such as what?”

  “Trying to disrupt the negotiations.”

  Kuchera ran a finger along his lips. “Prolong the war. Keep the military industrial complex happy. Keep the technology companies busy. The kind of nonsense that would make sense to a Political.”

  “Yes. The Politicals were afraid we’d find out that there wasn’t anything behind Nate’s file. Hence the attempt to kill Trevarra and me. She was the only other one who knew about Markher 12.” Jade shook her head. “If there really had been something at Markher 12—a concealed weapons lab, for example—would the owners have made it so easy to find?”

  “Probably not. But aren’t you guessing?”

  “Did you catch Lieutenant Maynard’s last words?” Jade continued. “I thought he was saying ‘I’ve’, as in ‘I have’. What if he was trying to say ‘Iverson’?”

  “Maybe. Why the suggestions about the weapon?”

  “Well, then the purpose of this plot is to give the Navy a reason to launch a preemptive strike and destroy a whole Gara’nesh fleet. Two dozen ships at one go.”

  “Objection,” Kuchera said. “If the purpose is to destroy the Gara’nesh fleet, then why not just do it? Why bother with this farce?”

  “I suppose,” Jade replied, “that those in command may be reluctant to attack without provocation. Turning on an enemy during negotiations is underhanded even if you suspect the enemy of engaging in covert activity. I don’t think Admiral Vespage would be eager to obey such an order. Those higher up would be sure to reap bad publicity. But if they can attack for cause, then they don’t have to worry about professional or political backlash.”

  “Makes sense,” Kuchera said grudgingly. “But there’s a flaw in your argument. There is something at Markher 12.”

  “That’s what I don’t understand. Why direct us to an exploded star?”

  Kuchera shrugged. “Maybe the Politicals didn’t know, either.”

  “Rather than blurting out what may be a lot of aimless drivel,” Jade said, “I want to return to Covenant and determine the situation in person.”

  “Logical.”

  “And I sent out a copy of our recordings of that supernova to an astrophysicist on Windward. Maybe he can enlighten us.”

  Kuchera fondled his moustache again. “Let’s just hope we get back to Covenant before something happens.”

  “Amen to that.”

  The door to Karenina Neilson’s quarters slid open.

  Jade looked over and stiffened.

  Neilson stood framed in the doorway. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said. “I really am.”

  Her voice trembled, but not her right hand, the one securely gripping a laser pistol.

  ELEVEN

  Chief of Naval Operations Fleet Admiral Lewis Gellner stepped out of the lifter onto the lowest level of Sector D, a level not listed on the official blueprints of the Covenant negotiation complex filed at Naval Command Archives on Earth. Since he had monitored the complex’s construction personally, it had been easy to make sure the official blueprints contained only the details he wanted them to.

  Workers who didn’t realize the significance of what they built, and supervisors and architects who responded either to bribes or threats saw to that. Most of the engineering crews who had constructed this section thought they were building a routine component of the negotiating complex. Frequent crew turnover had helped ensure that nobody knew too much.

  A few who had learned more than they should found themselves no longer in a position to talk.

  His booted feet rapped a regular rhythm as short, precise steps carried Gellner briskly along the brightly lit corridor, colored the same dull tan as every other corridor.

  The corridor terminated at a door marked . The door opened at his command.

  Gellner didn’t break stride until he reached the center of the room. He halted and looked around. The room was square, ten meters on a side, and packed with equipment. Monitor screens covered one wall. About half of the screens were blank, while a glowing profusion of graphics—some scrolling, others static—illuminated the remainder. Two unoccupied seats were situated in front of a control station.

  “Lahuna!” Gellner called. He swiveled his thin neck so that his wattle wobbled. He tapped a foot.

  A stocky man appeared from an accessway behind a computer console, wiping sweat off his hands onto his uniform. He wore a one-piece gold-colored jumpsuit bearing a Technical Support logo on the breast. Three stripes proclaimed lieutenant commander’s rank. He towered above the short Gellner.

  “Here, Admiral.”

  “Report.”

  “Almost ready, Admiral.” Lahuna pointed to the ranks of monitors. “As you can see, the main set-up is on line—”

  “Almost?” Gellner interrupted. “What’s the hold-up?”

  Lahuna gestured. “The calibrations. Trying to hit something that small from long range. I have to allow for stellar drift, the time factor, and a very long trajectory even in Roessler-space. Simply being in the vicinity isn’t good enough—”

  Gellner screwed up his eyes. “All right.”

  “The calibration has to be exact; the slightest deviation and it will misfire—”

  “I said all right!”

  “The co-ordinates you gave me are in—”

  “I know where they are, Lahuna!” Gellner laid a hand on one of the consoles, and took a pair of deep breaths. He was late for a neuralstim fix. After a moment he asked, calmer, “How long?”

  “A day or two. Once it’s set, the calibration can be ongoing, so firing can occur anytime.”

  “All right.” Gellner turned. “There’s no real rush, I suppose. Just the waiting makes me edgy. That and hoping nobody stumbles down here.”

  “Chances are they wouldn’t know what to make of it if they d
id.”

  Gellner sniffed. “Be ready.”

  “Yes, Admiral. Please give me as much advance notice as possible. There’s a warm-up period.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  Lahuna made a shuttle-like sweep with his hand towards the ceiling. “Uh, how will I—?”

  Gellner scowled. “Don’t worry, Lahuna. You’ll get off. Just make sure everything goes according to plan. You might even be a hero. Unofficially, of course.”

  Lahuna grinned. His head bobbed. “It’ll work, Admiral.”

  Lewis Gellner spun on his heel and exited.

  He whistled to himself as he strode back along the corridor. “Have you got a surprise coming, Halaffi. One big surprise.”

  “Neilson,” Jade said, shaking her head. “So you are the one.”

  “It’s—it’s not what you think, ma’am.” The pilot kept her weapon trained on Jade, its blunt nose steady.

  Standard naval issue LW-240, Jade noticed, not that it mattered. Not as powerful as her Linar, but perfectly adequate. Perfectly lethal.

  “What is it, then?” Keeping her gaze on Neilson, Jade watched Kuchera out of the corner of her eye, and hoped he’d understand. Stay still. Don’t try anything stupid.

  “It’s—I overheard you and Lieutenant Kuchera talking—”

  “Eavesdropping, were you?” Jade demanded.

  Neilson blushed. “I had to!” she exclaimed.

  “Who made you, Lieutenant?” Jade asked, her voice quiet but firm.

  Neilson squeezed her lips together. “I can’t say.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Kuchera asked. He had leaned back in the papasan, hands behind his neck, ankles crossed. An awkward position from which to move quickly. Jade flicked him an appreciative glance.

  Good, Troy. Keep her talking.

  “It’s apparent you’re not going to alert Covenant of the danger,” Neilson accused, directing her words to Jade.

  “That’s not strictly accurate,” Jade replied. “I’m going to discuss the situation in person with the appropriate people.”

  Neilson made a circular motion with her free hand. “By then it could be too late.”

  “If you heard us talking,” Jade said, “then you know my reasons.”

  Neilson shook her head. “They’re not good enough. I’m truly sorry, ma’am. The negotiators have to know immediately.”