Confluence Point

by Mark G Brewer

  Lebedev tracked the chasing ADFs on his personal screen, a cold feeling of dread down his spine. He didn't need the pilot to point out they would be caught, and soon; the superior performance of the pursuers was beyond question.

  How can the RDB be so far ahead of anything we have developed so far and yet they are already so far advanced again? This is intolerable, and they have armed them!

  "I have Prime Minister Sokolov on line sir." The anxious pilot looked around at the General, disturbed to see that Lebedev was sweating profusely, his nerves apparent.

  "I asked for President Popov!"

  "I know sir, the PM insisted."

  The familiar chilling voice crackled through Lebedev's helmet, oozing rebuke. "I am right here General, be very careful what you say, and Popov is with me." Sokolov's monotone delivery was unmistakable and as always, coldly threatening.

  Lebedev didn't bother arguing. "Sirs, with respect, we have the shuttle drive but we are being pursued. Their ADFs are much faster and I fear we have little time. I fear we may not make it back but we still have men on the Step. They will secure it for Russia."

  Sokolov scowled, his disgust evident even before replying. "You fool, Lebedev, we watched with the world as your men were swept into space. The Step is lost to us and no one has missed your shameful defeat, it is better that you do not return."

  Listening with despair, the pilot exchanged resigned looks with his navigator before hauling back on the joystick, pulling them away from the companion RDB and commencing evasive maneuvers. One eye on the screen, the other on his instruments he watched with growing horror as the small dot on screen tracked their every move, drawing closer by the second. He threw the craft into a final vertical dive in a futile attempt to outrun them only to watch spellbound as the chasing craft impossibly accelerated. No, no, no . . .

  In the background he could hear Lebedev praying and the voice of Sokolov still yelling curses, and then all was drowned out by the navigator’s screams.

  Feeling sick to the stomach Regan watched as the engagement neared its inevitable conclusion. Suddenly the two bombers veered apart, trying some desperate maneuver to escape. The ADFs were relentless, tracking with such accuracy there was no escape and when the Russians made a final desperate and suicidal dive even that option achieved no relief.

  The three watchers on Hillary observed the Russian craft appear to grow impossibly quickly as the ADFs accelerated. The picture only blacked when they drilled into the bombers with devastating effect.

  Nothing would survive the fall through atmosphere.

  "Hilary?"

  "Yes Regan."

  "Could you get me President Johnston please?"

  She felt sick to her stomach at what she was about to do, but people had died and she'd made a promise.

  You prick Mitch . . . this all comes down to you.

  * * *

  Mitchell Davies, thirty two years old, CEO and owner of Ezas, already a billionaire several times over and with such a promising future. By anyone's measure an unqualified success; except in Regan's eyes and that made him bitter to the core.

  A morning arrival of men in dark suits at the company office in San Francisco was not unusual. Neither was them coming to meet with Mitchell Davies. That they took him with them in handcuffs when they left was extremely so.

  * * *

  This is a game changer . . . I can learn, and change.

  Regan reviewed all aspects of the attack, considering what alternative options for defense had been available and what the consequences of failure might have been; they didn't bear thinking about. The element of surprise her displacer defense had offered was gone, as she had always known it would in time.

  I was naive; of course our enemies would just watch and learn. It couldn't work forever. Is it really true, that the only real defense against human kind's nature is the threat of the ultimate deterrent? It made her sick to even acknowledge the possibility; it was a course she never wanted to contemplate.

  Nevertheless, sitting back hoping that nations would do the right thing also seemed naive as did ideologically refusing to allow weapons on station. Without Ham's intervention Hillary Station would have been ridiculously vulnerable and those outvoting her had been proved sadly right.

  It's time for change, now, not later. If we're not going to use military force then we'll trade on our strengths. We've got something everyone wants, we'll use that to force positive change, whether they like it or not.

  With only a cyber presence on station she fumed with frustration at not being able to sit down and organize with the team . . . or . . . maybe it's time to come out of the closet.

  [Ham . . . Hilary?]

  [Yo!]

  [It's time for a meeting, with the guys.]

  * * *

  Kevin, Mary and Kutch sat chatting in the spacious Stein Compound office. The summons from Hilary had intrigued them, an important meeting she said, and they knew such gatherings were always interesting, never a bore. Even allowing for their high expectations the first person to speak was a huge surprise, and the familiar voice shocked them all.

  "Hi guys." Regan's warm, happy tone filled the room causing them to sit up, startled.

  "Regan . . . is that you?" Kevin spoke first.

  "Yup, it's me Kev, how are you?"

  "We're all great." He looked at the others, eyes questioning. "When did you get back?"

  "That's the thing," She paused for effect, "I never left."

  "Where are you babe?" Mary asked.

  "I'm right here Mary, but before I tell you more I need you to agree everything about me being here stays between us, ok?"

  The three looked at each other with quizzical looks, confused.

  "I mean it guys, what I'm going to reveal to you is so far out there you could drop it in conversation without even meaning to. I trust you absolutely so that's not it; I just need you to say it and you'll understand why when I tell you."

  Kevin looked disappointed. "Come on Regan, of course we agree, we're all gutted that Mitch broke our trust but we would never betray you."

  "Kev, it's not that, I do trust you, but for people in our game this is so juicy it drips sweetness. It will be so hard not to wink at the truth later on."

  Kevin looked the others. "Was I right? Are these secret meetings not always interesting?"

  "Regan," Kutch spoke for all of them, "You can take it as a given, no matter how juicy this is not a drip will escape."

  "Ok . . . it's not that I came back, the truth is I never left," and with that she materialized in front of them, smiling and leaning back on Kevin's desk. "When I left for Gliese I also stayed here, in the system with Hilary and Ham."

  For a while no one spoke, Mary's hand was clutched over her mouth, she didn't know what to think.

  Kutch was neutral, still looking cautious, disbelieving. The claim to him seemed almost outrageous.

  It was Kevin who spoke first. "Oh bugger me . . . did we even come out of the same womb?"

  Regan laughed.

  Kutch couldn't hold back. "Regan, you've got to be having us on - how is that even possible?"

  "Kutch, I don't fully understand it either and I can understand you being skeptical, I would have been too, but my friend - it's true. That's all I can tell you for now. There's a story behind it and it's been a process, it's not something that just happened in an instant, but look, the bottom line is I've made the jump, I'm really there away on that ship and I'm really here, this version of me anyway."

  "This isn't just Ham pulling a prank?" Kevin asked.

  "No," and the beautiful man appeared, "I wouldn't do that, not about something like this."

  "Shit Regan," Kevin stood there for a while, like the others still incredulous, trying to work out whether this was for real or not. "Bear with us babe, it's going to take some time to process this - and if you've been here why didn't you just tell us earlier?"

  "Good question . . ." She walked around the desk and sat down in Kevin's c
hair, much to everyone's amazement. "I didn't say anything earlier because this is such a big deal, and I really wanted to hide in the system here. But that Russian attack, along with Mitch's betrayal, it really made me think. I don't want to sit on the sidelines anymore and I want to make some changes, big changes, huuuge changes." and she gestured widely in emphasis. "I obviously can't do it myself at the moment as there are things only you guys can do, so I needed to talk with you and put some things in motion . . . and here I am."

  Understandably they weren't ready for business. They had questions, all coming in a rush and she let them. How did this happen and when? How does it feel? In what form does she exist, how is she distinct from Ham and Hilary in there?

  Her answers were understandably vague. They were questions she'd asked herself, without being able to find answers. Where do individual thoughts reside? What are thoughts, memories and dreams? All thoughts, concepts and ideas buzzing around in our heads, are they each distinct or are they all part of the same thing. And if they're distinct from each other where do they each reside, staying distinct, or do they overlap? And if it's possible for all that fluid thinking to be going on in the biological computer that is our brain, why would it not be possible for the same fluid thinking to find a home in a computer system?

  Eventually, brains hurting, they needed a break. Kevin, always the responsible leader, brought things back to the job in hand.

  "Ok babe . . . we're not going to work this out today, if ever, so what do you want us to do?"

  "Kevin, I've had a complete change of heart since the Russian attack, it's changed everything for me. I've been hoping everyone would see the light and be prepared to work together in space but it seems like its part of our DNA to fight to be top dog. Well, maybe I've just been too idealistic. Why fight human nature? I've decided when it comes to space we're going to be top dog and simply share the spoils.

  That Russian attack in one foul blow shot down any hope of the International Space Coalition developing shuttles on their own and that will put back any hope of them reaching out into the solar system unless we help.

  I'm proposing we take over all space fleet development by leasing ships and space on Hillary to our partners. STEIN will take the lead in space, not just by example but in practice. We'll be the over arching power while we support our customer's aims and objectives, provided they don't override the rights of others in the process. The choice they have is either to agree and make the jump into space with us or they don't and remain grounded until they can develop the tech themselves."

  "So you're saying no more shuttles or tech that they can copy. If they want ships we supply them."

  "And the crews," Regan replied. "We don't give anyone ships anymore. They lease our ships and crews to do the jobs they want and provided we agree we will support them."

  "Regan," Kevin interrupted, "Have we got the available space on Hillary and on the flight decks for that kind of commitment?"

  "Not now, but we will have space Kev; Hilary has plans for a much bigger Orbital and with the Coran support we'll ramp up the building program. Hillary Station will become a small planet and we'll establish new shipyards, decks and city space in the planned extra rings."

  "What about Hillary Step?" Mary asked.

  "I want to move it out to orbit Saturn. It will provide a staging post for the outer system and become the mining base of the people of Cora. The Step will remain ours and Cora will lease space there, paid for in minerals or whatever else they can trade."

  "I can tell there's more to this babe, you seem to have thought of everything."

  "Not everything Kev, more decisions will need to be made as we go along but when they do they won't be made by committee any more, I'll tell you that.

  Kev, I want you to take this to the International Coalition. This attack has been the catalyst for my decision and if they're unhappy with it they can take it up with the Russians. I have no doubts this is a more productive way to go."

  Regan started to pace, it was her usual thinking process and the group quickly fell into the habit of tracking her as she walked. It had only taken a few minutes and they seemed totally adjusted to her new presence in the room. The confident assertive approach was pure Regan and it was easy to just accept it. At the same time intuitively they knew she was truly with them.

  She continued, "I honestly think that if we sell this right they'll be happy anyway. It'll save them an absolute fortune in dollars better put into looking after things at home. Plus it's a much smarter way for everyone to reach into space even if it's a private company in charge. They can choose to retain their independence if they want and that's fine with me. But make it clear to them that they will get a lot further by coming under STEIN."

  "Are you looking to take over or something Regan?" Mary asked.

  She looked thoughtful, pondering the question before answering. "Put it like this, if we're going to make progress, in space at least, some form of benign dictatorship might be the only way to achieve it. Frankly I've had enough of imperialistic aims in space; they just stand in the way of progress. If they won't work together off their own initiative, then let's force the issue and win them over in the process."

  "What are our roles in all of this?" Kutch asked.

  Smiling at him she couldn't hold back a laugh. "Someone had to be the eye candy for this meeting. No, seriously, the other change in my thinking Kutch, is I don't want us to be vulnerable without weapons ever again. I hate it, I truly do, but Rod’s right, we need to arm the DFs more effectively and I'd like to do it in a smart way. I've got ideas for some weapon systems but something tells me, Kutch, that you and I working together with Ham will come up things even more effective."

  She turned back to Kevin.

  "Kev, this is a takeover of the Space Coalition and it needs someone like you to head it up, do the negotiations, pull in the team you need and make it happen. Be a ball breaker out there and I'll back you all the way. We've got all the good tech, so what are they gonna do? As for STEIN Corp, hand it over to Mary, she'll keep making the money and you know it."

  He looked at her with an expression she had seen many times before. It was resigned and inspired all in one.

  "I don't know how you do it sis, I really don't. Well, I guess we've got some planning to do."

  * * *

  Chapter Three

  The Mother Lode appeared, accompanied by the small fleet, flashing through interstellar space and reorienting in tandem, turning slowly onto the new line for the second surge to warp. There would be no break, no opportunity to pause and enjoy the view yet Beria still enjoyed the moment having imposed her presence on the Control room much to the Commander’s annoyance.

  Tyron resisted the temptation to even turn and acknowledge her, instead steeling himself to focus on the screen as he barked redundant commands to those around him. His thoughts churned relentlessly, leave . . . leave you bitch, you're not welcome!

  Communication with the fleet confirmed all vessels were performing faultlessly. Having emerged almost simultaneously in formation, the Mother Lode and the Ascendant still flanked the two older warships just as they had when they jumped. He took arrogant pride in the fact, despite such precision being entirely attributable to the ship’s systems. He settled back in the command chair musing childishly, the most powerful force to leave Cora in generations and I am entrusted with command . . . not her!

  "Prepare to jump."

  "Yes Commander, we are on line, ready to jump on your call."

  In that final second before going to warp the Ascendant squirted a message at light speed to the two centre ships, new orders accompanied by condensed files. The packages successfully delivered, all four warships built their waves in concert and made their leap.

  As the starscape disappeared from screen Beria, with a theatrical swirl, swept from control, a nonchalant curl of her finger confirming Mistek's fate. Reluctantly he followed, a gnawing in his gut and the nauseating sense he could smell her e
xcitement. He knew this was the way it would be, as the nearer she got to the goal, the more her demands on him would grow. He was trapped, the plaything on which she would work out her anger and dissipate the frustrations of unrealized revenge. He unconsciously groaned with the thoughts.

  Entering her rooms ahead of the guards he failed to see the blow that felled him, one of the two dropping him with a club to the head. Mistek fell to his knees only to be dragged up again and slammed against the wall. Struggling briefly in panic he realized resistance was futile, both arms pinned and a blade held to his throat. Beria ignored the commotion and it was over swiftly, the distressed Mistek held dangling there.

  Turning slowly toward him she stepped close to the terrified man and smiled grimly. "Mistek, you disappoint me."

  "How Mistress, I seek only to serve?" It was clearly uncomfortable for him to speak, his arms being pinned high, forcing him to reach for the deck with his toes.

  "Your recent displays of petulance have become tiresome Mistek, you will not humiliate me again in front of the crew."

  "Mistress, I mean no offense, if I have conveyed anything other than devotion . . ."

  She ignored him and interrupted. "I had thought you were something more than a servant Mistek, was I wrong?"

  "Mistress, this has always been my desire . . . you are my desire and it is my honor to serve." He spoke desperately, pleading.

  "Good . . . good Mistek, then perhaps we understand each other." She stepped away, seeming to light up with the exercise of power.

  "Suit!" She turned and walked to the bunk as the guards dropped him to the floor and tore off the garment, shredding it in the process. Sitting on the bed she looked down at him as he rolled to his knees massaging his arms. She nodded at the guards who left the room to resume position either side of the door.