by Alex Lamb
Silence hung over the meeting room as everyone digested the political reality they’d just been presented with.
‘Glad we’ve got that covered,’ said Yunus brightly. ‘In a nutshell, our job is to visit, understand and report back to New Panama. If our ships are split up for any reason, we are to rendezvous here.’ Another star map appeared. ‘This system has the survey name Nerroskovi. It’s just two light-years from Tiwanaku, which should make the process straightforward. Of course, if the location is needed, it’s likely that your ships will have engaged in evasive manoeuvres, so we’ve modelled expected rendezvous windows and included them in your flight plans.’
Mark watched Yunus scan the room, surveying the distracted gazes of the participants and trying to recapture some semblance of control over the proceedings.
‘As you’re all aware, despite the military speculation behind this mission, it will be carried out under the working assumption that aliens are responsible, not humans. And it’s important we make that possibility our focus and our number-one priority. And this presents us with a paradox,’ he added enthusiastically. ‘If the aliens are as malign as they appear, why have the Transcended not intervened in their development as they threatened to do with ours? Yet if they are not malign, why did they attack? I have my own theories, of course, but it would be wrong to bias you this early.’
Mark looked at the man and wondered where he was managing to get his zeal from. Hadn’t Sam Shah just made it horribly clear what they were really there to do?
‘And while this scenario will sound unlikely to most of you,’ Yunus went on, ‘there are some good reasons to believe that these aliens are, in fact, real. I have decided on a name for them, by the way – Photurians – on account of the synchronised warp flashes of their drone swarms and its similarity with that of fireflies.’
That’s nice, thought Mark. A good old-fashioned command decision to spare anyone else from having to think creatively. Not that it mattered.
‘For instance,’ said Yunus, ‘have a look at these follow-up scans taken since the tragic loss of that first contact. As soon as word of the event reached New Panama, drones were sent out to monitor the area from a safe distance. This is what they found.’
The bubble showed a dense weave of shifting drone traffic around the captured colony world. It looked aimless and hypnotic, like a school of sea creatures of some kind. The bubble zoomed in to show orbital stations being carefully disassembled and bundled up in knots of webbing by weird, definitely non-terrestrial-looking robots. Just watching them made Mark’s skin prickle. Whoever had laid on this show had done one hell of a job.
‘As you can see,’ said Yunus, ‘there is persistent, unusual activity at the site showing complex patterns of behaviour. Not what you’d expect to see if this were some kind of scam, but exactly what you might expect from intelligent life forms.’
Venetia Sharp chimed in, waving a narrow hand to catch his attention. ‘With respect, Professor, while fascinating, these patterns don’t necessarily indicate the intelligence I’m sure you’d love to see there. They look to me like the sort of activities hive insects might engage in, or drones designed to mimic them.’
Yunus’s lips pulled into a tight little smile. ‘And yet they communicated with us in English. Hardly the behaviour of insects.’
‘Hardly the behaviour of an alien species, either,’ she replied. ‘If anything makes the case for a hoax, it’s that message. If we examine the semantic content alone—’
Citra Chesterford shook her head and interrupted. ‘Our initial modelling survey looked for matches with both machines and hive species. That swarm pattern you’re seeing doesn’t match any known species or SAP variety.’
‘So what?’ said Venetia. ‘Designing a new drone-swarm dynamic would take what – a day? Less for a talented roboteer.’ She shot a quick, pale-eyed glance at Mark.
‘To that level of detail?’ said Citra. ‘I doubt it.’
Mark kept his mouth shut. Without a closer look, he wasn’t sure.
‘There’s also the matter of the warp-drive signatures, is there not?’ said Yunus. He gestured at Zoe Tamar. ‘They don’t resemble anything produced by either human or Fecund vessels, correct?’
‘They do not,’ said Zoe.
Yunus shot Venetia a smug glance. ‘Innovations in warp technology are an unlikely achievement for mere insects, wouldn’t you say? Or even for humans staging a hoax.’
‘But there’s something very wrong with those drives,’ Zoe added. ‘They shouldn’t even work. The mere fact that they operate at all points to Transcended involvement.’
Yunus’s smile dropped away. ‘I don’t think there’s enough evidence to jump to that conclusion.’
‘Why not?’ said Zoe. ‘It’s just Occam’s razor. We know of one operational alien species in IPSO space, so why propose another?’
‘I consider it highly unlikely that a species at that level of development would bother engaging in petty warfare of this sort,’ said Yunus.
Venetia emitted a short, impatient laugh. ‘Yunus, dear, this is not one of your staged chat shows. We’re not engaging in idle speculation now. This is exocultural research in the raw, with a significant human price-tag attached. Leaping to convenient conclusions in this context is actually dangerous. So while I can’t agree with Zoe’s interpretation, I at least respect the fact that she might have a point.’
‘The only person here not displaying the proper respect,’ said Citra Chesterford, ‘is you, Doctor Sharp. Do I need to remind you that my husband is leading this mission?’
‘No, Citra,’ said Venetia, wryly. ‘Do I need to remind you that this is an IPSO project, not an Earther one? Outside the home system, we generally earn respect rather than assuming it will be automatically bestowed by class.’
Citra looked daggers at the smiling psychologist. Yunus’s gaze shuttled rapidly back and forth between the two women with growing anxiety.
‘There will, of course, be follow-up science talks for the diplomacy team on the Gulliver,’ he said quickly, ‘which is perhaps the best forum for such robust debate. I have no doubt that we’ll be able to derive a range of plausible scenarios before reaching Tiwanaku.’ Yunus pointed at the ceiling with evident relief. ‘In any case, the shuttle informs me that we have docked with the tethering arm for the Gulliver. I recommend that our teams proceed to their respective ships where we can continue our discussions.’
He gestured to the pod bay where the doors slid open, then led the way towards them.
Mark hesitated and looked around at all the high-profile people suddenly in his charge. Sam Shah had made the dangers alarmingly clear. The science was a sideshow. Treating Tiwanaku as anything other than a war zone would be crazy. And he’d be piloting the only ship with no guns. Keeping hold of his interface rights would be the least of his problems.
4.3: ANN
Ann waited in the shuttle with the others as they made their way towards the Ariel Two. Her difficult night had left her fuzzy. Two cups of stimmo hadn’t helped so she’d resorted to Fleet-issue fatigue-displacers. She’d pay for it later, of course, but it beat falling asleep in the briefing in front of Sam. Instead, her mind had whirred throughout the presentation, repeating every anxious, uncomfortable moment of her last meeting with the fixer.
Will Monet sat across from her, his expression serene but his body radiating a kind of knotted tension that she associated with combat troops before a drop. His eyes held something hungry and tragic in their gaze as he watched his ship approach on the central bubble. Far from the kindly superman she remembered from their first meeting years ago on the Ariel Two, this Will looked haunted and old.
His demeanour worried her. His actions would be her responsibility from the moment he stepped out of the meeting room. Everything that followed would depend upon how Will reacted to the scene the League had created. All at once, the
security leak that had been dominating her thoughts for the last eight hours felt utterly trivial. Her main problem hung right in front of her. This was the part of Sam’s plan that she needed to understand. As she stared at Will, suddenly all the psych reports and model profiles felt woefully inadequate.
‘I’m proud to be working with you, Captain Monet,’ she blurted. ‘You should know that my team and I will have your back throughout this mission.’
Will turned his hollow, searchlight eyes in her direction. ‘I’m delighted,’ he said, not sounding for a moment like he meant it. He paused, his head tilting, as if something had just occurred to him. ‘Would you mind if I had a word with you in private?’ he said.
Ann looked around at the other assembled crew. ‘What, now?’
Will nodded. ‘This shuttle has a privacy chamber, doesn’t it? They usually do.’
Ann knew that it did, in the opposite direction from the pod bay.
‘You and I are captaining the two armed vessels on this mission,’ said Will. ‘It makes sense for us to confer before we start.’
Ann quickly considered her options. Disappearing for a private chat at the last moment would look downright odd to the rest of the mission team. But when had Will Monet been anything other than odd? It was too good a chance to pass up. Even thirty seconds of private conversation might give her crucial insights into how he’d react under pressure.
‘Okay,’ she said with a half-smile. ‘Great idea. It should have been in the mission plan already – we need to understand each other.’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ said Will and pushed off towards the chamber.
Ann followed, acutely conscious of all the eyes on her back.
The chamber was a compact cylindrical space lined with the same opalescent padding as the main cabin. Will shut the door behind them.
‘What can I do for you, Captain Ambassador?’ said Ann.
For the first time in years, she stood face to face with the most powerful human being who’d ever lived. He smiled awkwardly at her, looking more like a lost little boy than a political titan. She felt an unexpected surge of guilt at her desire to understand him. After all, what else could she do now but lie to him?
‘What do you think of this mission, Captain?’ said Will.
‘How do you mean, sir?’
‘Do you believe in our mission goals? Do you think there are aliens out there? Or do you think this whole thing is a cynical set-up to try to force someone’s political agenda?’
Ann recalled that Will could see in the infrared and read emotions via skin temperature. She wished she’d thought to activate her subdermal augs before stepping into the shuttle. If she blushed in front of him now, it’d be blindingly obvious.
‘The latter, sir. I think the likelihood that aliens are behind this is extremely slim.’
‘Me, too,’ he said, nodding. ‘I have a favour to ask.’ He met her eyes suddenly and didn’t blink. ‘I know you’re here to provide extra military support and that your presence is the senate’s best idea for ensuring everyone’s safety. But I’m going to ask you to focus on the Gulliver out there – to keep them safe, and to ignore me and the Ariel Two. Nelson and I can take care of ourselves. Our ship is old and it’s seen battle before. The Gulliver, on the other hand, is defenceless. It’s going to need you. Badly. Can I rely on you to do that?’
Ann struggled internally while his gaze drilled into her. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Though the mission plan inevitably limits what I can do.’
Will waved her comment away. ‘The mission plan will mean nothing from the moment we hit that system. What I’m asking for is personal and outside the plan. It would mean you being ready to act the moment that ship is in trouble, not just because you think it’s time to invoke a backup. Can I count on you? If I can’t, just say. I won’t hold it against you.’
Ann held her breath. No! she suddenly wanted to yell. You can’t count on anyone. Nothing will ever be the same again.
‘I’m sorry, Captain,’ said Will, peering at her. ‘Am I making you uncomfortable?’
Ann exhaled and started to feel stupid. Will had taken her aside to lean on her, of course, and now she was leaking information without even opening her mouth. She cursed the sloppy reasoning that had brought her here. She needed to regain some control of the dialogue before he noticed exactly how embarrassed and regretful he was making her feel.
His request was really about Mark. That was his vulnerability. Maybe she could use it.
‘Of course I can help,’ she said. ‘If you explain why.’ She watched him with as flat an expression as she could muster.
‘I’m sorry?’ said Will.
‘I mean, if you want me to go outside the mission profile, you must have a reason, and I’m guessing it’s a personal one. If you can tell me what that is, I’ll consider your request.’
She blinked at him and waited.
Will regarded her with surprise. Apparently he’d expected her to simply accede to his demand. Of course he had. He must have encountered little else from Fleet officers for decades.
‘There’s someone on that ship whose life you want to protect,’ Ann ventured. ‘That’s clear. My guess is either Mark Ruiz or Ash Corrigan. Perhaps both. They were both participants in your Omega Academy, were they not?’
When hidden anger lit in Will’s eyes, she knew she’d gone too far. She wanted him off-balance, not cornered.
‘My guess is Corrigan,’ she said breezily. ‘He’s the public face of what’s left of your programme. You can’t afford to lose him.’
Will relaxed. ‘You guessed right. He’s a good kid. And it’s not just what he represents. He doesn’t deserve the risks.’
‘I tell you what,’ said Ann. ‘How about a trade? You may not remember this, but I was a very junior officer aboard the Ariel Two years ago when you took that last trip back to visit the Transcended.’
Will’s eyebrows went up. She saw vagueness enter his eyes as he rifled his digital memories for the record and felt momentarily hurt. He didn’t remember. Why would he?
‘So you were,’ he said, surprised.
‘I saw what that mission did to you,’ said Ann. Her throat tightened. It wasn’t a happy memory. ‘I remember your disappointment. Your confusion. We all felt it. That was the mission when I decided to devote my career to helping maintain the kind of balance you espouse. All my work at the Far Frontier came out of that choice. But you shut yourself off on that return flight. You didn’t talk to anyone. It was awful for everyone on board, and it made explaining the details of our failure to the senate review board incredibly difficult. It took me months to escape debriefing and get a new post. So I’m asking you not to shut me out this time. Instead, I’d like you to talk with me so that if the worst happens, the rest of us will be properly equipped to handle it. I want to know how you’re thinking when the time comes for us to act. If you agree, I’ll contact you on tight-beam to make that possible.’
Sam wouldn’t like the idea, but Sam didn’t have to know.
Will appraised her anew. ‘I thought your ship was supposed to run silent from the moment we leave port. Aren’t we required to avoid contact?’
Ann shrugged. ‘If we’re going to abandon the mission plan, we might as well do it properly. What do you say?’
Will stared at her in confusion for a minute and then slowly broke into a grin. The idea that they’d made some pact to break the mission guidelines appeared to amuse him greatly.
‘Done,’ he said, with a laugh. ‘You have a deal.’
Ann almost laughed with him. Amazingly, her ridiculous gambit had worked. The shuttle chose that moment to interrupt.
‘Docking with the Ariel Two achieved.’
‘I wasn’t sure about the senate’s push for a third ship, you know,’ said Will as he made for the door. ‘It looked like mindless overkill to m
e. But you’re making me glad you’re here.’
As he pushed back into the main cabin, she allowed herself to breathe. She’d established her bond and managed to get through the meeting without risking the League, and all in the two and a half minutes it had taken for them to reach the next ship. Were it not for the knot of confused guilt writhing around inside her, she’d have felt proud.
As it was, she felt painfully conflicted instead. Will Monet, for all his flaws, was not a bad man. He was just desperately lonely, as only someone with no peers could be. What they were going to do to him, however, was terrible. Her promise to protect the Gulliver was hollow. She’d be watching and monitoring Will’s ship every second of the mission until they could coax him as far as Snakepit, where the shooting would start. Ann would never have been able to bluster through without total confidence that Sam and Ash would cover that base on her behalf.
Jaco Brinsen watched her approach, a look of hungry curiosity on his square, clean-cut features. However, he kept his mouth shut as the Ariel Two team slid across to their docking pod and bid them farewell.
Conversation in the shuttle remained almost comically muted after that. The League conspirators who’d been picked to man the Chiyome avoided each other’s gazes until they reached the sanctuary of their own docking pod. Now, at last, they could speak without fear of leaking information to the rest of the Fleet.
‘What did you say in there?’ said Jaco with a knowing smile. ‘Will went in looking like death and came out with a huge grin on his face. Nothing naughty, I hope.’
‘I established a connection, that’s all,’ said Ann, knowing she sounded cryptic. ‘I attempted to maximise the amount of tactical information we have about our target so as to increase the likelihood of mission success.’
‘Hah!’ said Jaco, obviously disappointed that she didn’t volunteer more. ‘It was impressive, in any case. They told me you have ice-water in your veins but I didn’t believe it until now. You’ve got him figured out, I’d say. Wrapped around your finger, even.’
