Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection

by G. S. Jennsen

  “This. This is what’s wrong.” He didn’t think an aural was capable of displaying anger in its generation—but if it could, this one would’ve done so. He crossed the deck to her side to read the message she had projected.

  Ms. Solovy,

  Thank you for your report on possible anomalous activity in the Metis Nebula. As you are no doubt aware, all reports must be submitted via physical data disk in order to be officially accepted. Once we receive a physical copy from you, the Astronomical and Space Science Department will review the scientific findings and contact you should we need further information.

  However, as a courtesy to the EASC Director of Operations, I have briefly looked over the report. While startling and rather disturbing, according to Earth Alliance Assembly Regulation AAS 41767.239.0655k, any claims of alien discovery must be validated by an official envoy of the Earth Alliance government using approved protocols.

  After receipt of a physical copy of the report and analysis of its claims, if the Astronomical and Space Science Department finds them worthy of investigation, we will request authorization to assemble a survey team and deploy it to the Metis Nebula. Given the severity of the claims, we look forward to receiving the materials in a timely manner.

  Regards,

  — Dr. Aaron LaRose

  Director, Astronomical and Space Science Department

  Science Advisor to the Office of the Prime Minister

  “Well—”

  “This is why I hate politicians. This is why I hate bureaucrats. This is why I refuse to have anything to do with the government or the military or anything which remotely looks like it might be connected to the government. Stupid, bloated, overwrought bureaucracy has lost the capacity for even rudimentary independent thought. Ugh!” With a visceral groan she threw herself onto the couch and dropped her head into her hands.

  It took him a minute to get past his own stunned reaction and circle around to sit beside her. “Perhaps he didn’t actually review the report—I have to believe if he did his reaction would be a bit more alarmed.”

  “Oh, I’d believe he reviewed it.” Her voice was muffled against her hands. “But he’s a government lackey. What else is he expected to do? He has a checklist full of procedures and every fucking thing which crosses his fucking desk must be corralled through that fucking checklist. It’s the only thing which exists in his world—without it there would be chaos! And he’s probably got a fucking checklist for that, too….”

  She groaned into her hands. “I swear, I should just let them all die.”

  “Hey….” He reached over and gently pulled the closest hand away from her face, then lifted her chin so she was forced to look at him. “Possibly. But you won’t, because you’re a better person than they are.”

  “I’m really not. I can count on one hand the number of people in the universe I truly like or even particularly care about…well, maybe plus the other pinky if I have to add you.”

  “Do you?” It came out far more serious in tenor than he had intended.

  She shifted her attention away, but her mouth curved up in what closely resembled a smile. “I suppose.” He suspected it might have come out far more affectionate in tenor than she had intended.

  Then she sighed, and the moment passed. “I can already see how it will all play out. I’ll yell and scream and make an ass out of myself, and the bureaucrats will frown and hem and haw and suggest calm and caution, and I’ll end up flipping off the EASC Chairman or the Defense Minister or, hell, the Prime Minister himself. And getting kicked out of the building isn’t going to help the situation, but it’ll hardly matter at that point….”

  Abruptly her hands fell to her lap; she nodded sharply. “Okay. Pity-party over.” She leapt up and strode over to the data center.

  “I am responding to let Dr. LaRose know he will have his precious hardcopy by tomorrow evening. I am checking to make sure my mother is arranging me an audience with the EASC Board, because if anything is a matter for the military, this damn sure is.”

  She worried at her lower lip. “And I think I need to make the visuals of the scary tentacle ships bigger.”

  She eyed him over her fork piled high with pasta. He had managed to pull her away from the data long enough to sit down and eat something for dinner, though not until after he had whipped up the angel hair pasta with Campari tomatoes and spinach and the tempting aroma filled the cabin.

  “What.”

  He chuckled, a little chagrined at having been caught. Her ability to read him was approaching uncanny levels. “You do realize you’re bringing an enemy spy into Alliance military headquarters, right?”

  She rolled her eyes in mild amusement. “You won’t be recognized, will you?”

  “I highly doubt it. No more than two dozen people in the galaxy are aware of what I do for a living—and I’m fairly certain none of them are on Earth. My official record shows me as an assembly manager for Terrestrial Avionics, as you discovered, but even it’s a very old image.”

  “You’ve got fake identities, right? Can you use one of them? Samuel maybe?”

  “Samuel isn’t one, but yeah, absolutely. I can—”

  “It isn’t? Why did you use it with me, then?”

  “It’s just somebody I knew and was the first name to pop in my head.”

  “Hmm.” She frowned. “Can we say you’re a scout for a corp and we bumped into each other while investigating the Nebula?”

  “I happen to have a ready-made identity for such an occasion. I can be Cameron Roark, minerals scout for Advent Materials out of Romane.”

  “How many fake identities do you have?”

  “More than two, fewer than ten….” At her widening eyes he shrugged. “What? I’m a versatile chameleon.”

  Her expression darkened as she busied herself twirling more pasta around her fork. When she spoke, her voice had lowered noticeably in tenor and volume. “So we’re once again back to the fact that I wouldn’t know if you were lying to me.”

  He exhaled through pursed lips. “Normally I’d say no, you wouldn’t…but you appear to have my number, don’t you?”

  She regarded him with such intensity he felt stripped, bare. “Do I?”

  Still, he struggled past the instinct to mask himself behind a façade and forced himself to meet her gaze honestly. “A minute ago, I wasn’t entirely truthful as to where the name ‘Samuel’ came from—and you knew it, didn’t you?” Her mouth merely twitched in response, which was response enough.

  “The truth is he wasn’t just somebody I knew. He was the person who recruited me into SpecOps. He was my mentor and my friend for seventeen years, and he was murdered four months ago by anti-synthetic terrorists. The funny thing is, he wasn’t even especially pro-synthetic. He was simply doing his job. I didn’t mention it because…well, because I’m not ready to talk about it.”

  “I’m sorry, Caleb.”

  “So am I…but that’s a tale for another day. Alex, I’m not lying to you—about anything. And if I try you catch me, so I may as well not try. But I can’t prove it, I can only say it. And you can take it for…whatever you think it’s worth.”

  It seemed as if her eyes were searching his very soul for traces of deception, and he wondered why he had ever thought he could lie to her. He straightened up in the chair. “Which is why we need to discuss something.”

  Her gaze didn’t budge or falter. “Okay.”

  “You’re right, I do need a false identity to get inside EASC, because there’s no way they’re going to let a Senecan intelligence agent walk in the front door. But I have an idea, one which stands a chance of bringing an early end to this war and uniting us against the alien threat. And I’d like your help.”

  “Good news. Richard’s available to meet us tomorrow as well.”

  He stowed the last of the dishes and raised an eyebrow at her over his shoulder. She had responded enthusiastically to the plan, jumping at the prospect of being able to diffuse the ‘stupid khrenovuyu wa
r.’ She had proceeded to strategize and improve upon the plan and now had increased its odds of success considerably by bringing to the table someone who might actually possess the information he needed.

  She continued to surprise him in the most unexpected ways, and he had been an idiot to think he should—or even could—do it without her.

  “So, Naval Intelligence Liaison to Strategic Command, huh? Sure he won’t shoot me on sight?”

  “It’ll be fine. He’s a teddy bear.”

  “Alex, no one in intelligence is a teddy bear.” The man was a necessary and arguably welcome player—but he would be an adversary, at least to start.

  “Well he is.” She turned to him when he joined her at the data center. “Listen. I’ve known him my entire life, and he is one of the few genuinely good people I’ve ever met.”

  “Okay. My life is in your hands, but okay.”

  “Whatever. Besides, he’ll have no reason to doubt you because you’ll be with me. I’ll be talking about alien superdreadnoughts, and you’ll simply be….”

  “Alex’s boy-toy?”

  She laughed. “Um….”

  “How many times have you visited Strategic Command wearing a random man on your arm?”

  Her brow furrowed in a farce of deep thought. “Almost nev…once, maybe twice…three times at most. Definitely.”

  His jaw dropped open in mock indignation. “Then I shall be Alex’s boy-toy. Now that I will enjoy.”

  She grinned playfully at him, and he found himself yet again drawn into her eyes. They reflected the light from the visuals above the table, transforming her irises to an incredible luminous platinum. Mirth danced in them like fireworks against a star-soaked sky.

  Seconds passed before she tore her gaze away and focused back on the data. After a moment she flipped the position of two of the images, frowned, and flipped them again.

  “The second way was better.”

  She didn’t question his opinion and immediately flipped them back while chewing on her lower lip. “It’s not as though the fate of the galaxy rests on the order of a couple of visuals. I only hope it’s enough. Maybe when decorated by some high theatrics on my part….”

  He grasped her shoulder and shifted her to face him. “I have no doubt you’ll make them listen. You have a way of refusing to accept any alternative to getting what you want, and everyone else will find they’ve no choice but to fall in line.”

  A corner of his mouth curled up. “I mean, you got me here.”

  Her voice dropped to a murmur. “I did, didn’t I?”

  They were already standing so close. His hand, still resting on her shoulder, drifted up and slowly, carefully tucked her hair behind her ear…then lingered along the curve of her jaw. She didn’t pull away, and the ticking by of endless seconds faded to insignificance.

  The pad of his thumb drew softly over the hollow beneath her extraordinary cheekbone. With a breath she began turning into his hand, as if to place a kiss on his wrist—

  —when a chime pealed through the cabin.

  Her eyes were a little wide as she stepped back, but he couldn’t be certain if he heard regret or relief in her voice. “And that would be the Gould Belt monitoring system…with the tightened security I’m guessing I need to check in.”

  He somehow managed to wait until she moved toward the cockpit before dragging a hand roughly over his mouth to stifle a groan, followed by a curse or two. He sucked a deep breath into his oddly constricted chest. Jesus.

  She spent several minutes in the cockpit. He leaned against the wall, ankles and arms crossed loosely in a stellar imitation of casual relaxation, and waited.

  When she finally returned to the table she was grimacing a bit and managed to avoid his gaze while not looking like she was avoiding it. “Security’s even tighter than I expected—we’ll need to check in half a dozen times before we get to Earth, but I set up the next few to be automated so I can get some sleep. Which….”

  She glanced at the Metis report a final time, then shut it and the other data on the table down. “I should do. Busy day tomorrow, so I’m going to call it a night.”

  He didn’t bother to hide anything in his eyes or his expression. His voice was soft but its tone unmistakable. “Are you sure?”

  She huffed a breath that came out a ragged laugh and at last met his gaze, irises swirling liquid silver filled with unknowable thoughts. She almost smiled.

  “Not in the slightest…” a retreat toward the stairwell “…which is why I really should.”

  He bit his lower lip, blinked and forced a smile. “Understood. Good night, Alex.”

  Her eyes closed for a moment. She nodded, seemingly to herself, and started down the stairs. “Good night, Caleb.”

  Alex lay on the bed, still dressed, the bed still made, and stared at the ceiling.

  What was she doing?

  She ached to leap off the bed, vault up the stairs and claim the kiss stolen from her by the alarm. And whatever followed.

  She wouldn’t have stopped him; she had been moving into him, welcoming the embrace and its consequences.

  She had no particular problem with casual sex. Though she’d never give Ken a run for her money, she had engaged in it from time to time. And given all the stress and tumult of the last week, god knows she could use some about now….

  So why not follow through now? Why not leap off the bed, vault up the stairs and give in to the undeniable attraction and sexual tension which had been building for days—hell, since about five seconds after they met?

  Because she was afraid.

  It wasn’t easy for someone like her, to admit even to herself she was afraid. Unless it was of an army of massive alien ships—and that hadn’t been easy to admit.

  But she was afraid.

  She was afraid it wouldn’t be casual at all. She was afraid if she fell into the ocean of those devastating blue eyes, she might drown. His easygoing demeanor belied an intensity simmering just beneath the surface, one constantly threatening to overwhelm her even from afar.

  She was afraid if she allowed him in, if she opened up, if she shed the multiple layers of emotional armor in which she wrapped herself, she risked losing the very control over herself and her life she so treasured. Control she had cultivated for years, decades.

  And when he inevitably left, she was afraid she would have lost her way.

  38

  METIS NEBULA

  INNER BANDS

  * * *

  MAJOR DONEL FERGUSSON STOOD at the wide viewport of the SFS Aegea and gazed out at nothing.

  It wasn’t actually nothing, of course. It was nebular gas and dust and particles. It glowed the color of lemonade with dashes of periwinkle.

  It was a tactical nightmare. There were no distinguishing features, no points of reference and no shadowy recesses in which to hide.

  In addition to the Aegea, the 2nd GOI Platoon consisted of four electronic warfare and two reconnaissance vessels. All the ships were well-equipped both offensively and defensively, but the majority of the firepower was concentrated in the Aegea. It also sported a suite of VI-driven probes and wideband passive sensors.

  And though every ship possessed the finest in multilayer dampeners, the Aegea provided further protection in the form of an adaptive field. Dynamically generated and powered by a dedicated LEN reactor, it extended out in a five kilometer radius from the hull and blended all emissions within it into the surrounding cosmic radiation. ‘The Bubble,’ as the team referred to it, encompassed the entirety of the Platoon during normal impulse travel. In the absence of shadowy recesses in which to hide, it would have to suffice.

  “Rather beautiful, wouldn’t you say?”

  He glanced over at Lieutenant Udine, who had joined him at the viewport. “Just looks like gas and dust to me.”

  The young man laughed. “My mother’s a cosmologist. She’d faint on the spot if she heard you say that. I guess a bit of her perspective wore off on me.”

  “I d
idn’t know we let dreamers into the special forces these days.”

  “Only on the sly.”

  “Well, I won’t spill your secret, but you might want to keep it to yourself. Some of these soldiers may be inclined to break your spine if they catch you waxing poetic.”

  “I welcome them to try, sir.”

  “Ha! Good to hear.” His gaze drifted around the bridge. The Aegea was thinly staffed, and everyone on board doubled as a commando, sniper, EMT or half a dozen other roles along with running the frigate. “Scans?”

  “Expected EM signatures continue steady from the core region of the Nebula, sir. No deviations and no additional readings.”

  He activated the platoon-wide comm. “Re-engage sLume drives on my mark, destination 0.4 AU out from the portal, heading 22.4° NE. This will be our final superluminal traversal before reaching the target zone. Ready state on arrival. Two…one…mark.”

  The gas clouds blurred and faded, though it hardly looked any different to him. As they had already been deep in the Metis interior, the journey took minutes.

  The ‘scenery’ which snapped back into focus shone considerably brighter than before and had organized itself into pillars of thick, nearly solid cloud formations.

  “Status report.”

  “EM signatures match those provided, sir. TLF signal originating N 297.41° W, distance 0.39 AU. No anomalies detected.”

  “Recon 1, Recon 2: fan and approach TLF origin, full stealth. Slow and easy, boys.”

  Acknowledged.

  He waited. Civilians imagined special forces missions were all gunfire and explosions—but whether in an urban incursion or deep space, eighty percent of any mission involved waiting.

  Somewhere beyond the towering golden clouds sat an army of alien vessels. Once located, the team would take measurements and visuals from maximum safe distance. They would send a drone back out of the nebula to report contact. Then they would remain here, hidden in The Bubble, ready to track the alien force if or when it departed.

  Unless the aliens were already gone, a far worse scenario. If they had departed the portal they could now be, quite literally, anywhere—in which case in order to track them, the team would first have to find them. Hopefully before the aliens massacred a world or did whatever it was they were planning to do.