by Ron Collins
Nimchura smiled at that.
He has seen this shoreline before—on their test flights.
Though the craft would never make it that far, the old base was only a short hop away.
He took a deep breath, and tasted the coppery flavor of hope.
CHAPTER 21
Calisto Station Military Courthouse
Local Date: January 27, 2215
Local Time: 1630
Interstellar Command commenced an immediate inquiry into exactly what had happened and who was at fault.
Torrance sat in the back of the courtroom among several of Orion’s crew. Full attendance made the chamber feel small. The air seemed to be heavy and thick. The sound of the whole room felt muted.
Captain Douglas sat in an isolation box.
Commander Yuan and four other officers sat behind the captain.
The review panel arrived from a chamber behind the tribunal panel, each dressed in understated brown formals with their blue and silver medals flashing from flat shoulder pads.
Counsel for each defendant made perfunctory openings, and arguments began.
Torrance testified third, the ambassador fourth.
Military justice is not like civilian justice.
Yes, there are protocols. And, yes, there are enough arcane legal maneuvers and procedural details to be addressed that Torrance had a hard time keeping up and by the end of the day was tired and confused from making the effort.
But military justice does not stand on appeal. The answer is the answer. And in this case, the answer was succinct.
Captain Wallace Douglas was found guilty of mutiny, stripped of rank, dishonorably discharged, and sentenced to twenty years in the Lunar military correctional facility. Commander Yuan was also stripped of rank and dishonorably discharged. She would serve ten years. The others were stripped of rank and assessed charges against their performance records. For all essential purposes, their careers were finished.
It wasn’t enough, of course. Not by a far sight.
Only thirty years between the whole set of collaborators, some probably to be commuted at some later date by a faceless military leader under the cloak of time.
The whole thing was sickening, really.
Torrance wondered what deals Yuan and Douglas had tried to make, and what deals two of the other officers had been successful at making that kept them out of jail.
Not that it mattered.
Torrance had seen the game played twice now, how at these times the ends justify the means and facts didn’t matter as much as allegiances.
CHAPTER 22
Atropos, Eta Cassiopeia System
Local Date: Conejo 7, 9
Local Time: 1410
Deidra Francis stood in front of the empty chair at the head of the table. Even now, days after the disaster, she was unable to look at her father’s advisers without feeling rage.
She should have been stronger. She should have stood her ground. If she had made them listen, perhaps her father would still be alive. Instead she had gotten caught up in their assurances, gotten her head full of the idea that she was being promoted when really she was just being put aside in a way that served to keep her quiet.
But she had been right, goddamn it.
Everyone else had been wrong.
“They want to return your father’s body,” Gregor Anderson said. The rest of the command staff sat in the dark room.
“No negotiations,” she said to the gathering.
“The people will want him back.”
“Tell that to the mothers and fathers and children of those we lost on Einstein.”
“They say the destruction of Einstein was an accident,” Martin Scalese said.
“And they are so trustworthy.”
“The UG is offering—”
“I can’t believe you, Martin. There wasn’t a single survivor from Einstein. Not a single one. Orion left the area less than a quarter second before the blast would have ripped it to shreds. The perfection of this timing alone says that the operation had to be planned to a razor’s edge—add to it that the precision of the blast that hit Einstein could not have been a mistake. Now they offer their apologies, and you actually think it’s a good idea to listen to them?
“No.
“I don’t trust the UG. Not in any fashion. Nothing they say is true.
“This is how we will think now.”
The panel sat forward.
Deidra ran her hand through her hair as she gathered back her composure.
She glanced at her mother, who nodded with a thin-lipped expression of determination. Both had worked tirelessly trying to keep abreast of the situation, sleeping only in half-hour catnaps here and there, and always pushing the right buttons.
She looked at Gregor Anderson, who was sitting in his usual chair, but whose body seemed to be a shriveled shell now, covered by that wild beard of white that at one time had made him look wise, but now had faded to make him appear merely old.
“Your father would have—” Gregor said.
“My father is dead, and Einstein is gone. Both of these things are true because this panel didn’t have the spine to advise him appropriately.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s also true.” She hesitated, staring across the set of eyes that filled the room. “You all know it, too. You’re just not saying it.”
She motioned to her mother, seated near the doorway, who Deidra had convinced to come to the session despite both of their fatigue.
“I have conferenced with my mother for the past two days. It’s time for new leadership. I’m in charge now. And from now on we do it my way.”
“You’re not ready for this, Deidra,” Gregor said.
Yvonne spoke up.
“She was the only one in this room who would have made the right call, the only one in this room who saw through UG deception.”
“This is dangerous,” Gregor replied. “Casmir is dead only three days and you’re already wrenching his chair away.”
Deidra’s glare turned poisonous. “We need a leader now.”
Yvonne broke in.
“You, of all people, know this is true, Gregor. And the council has been clear for some time that Deidra is this person. She’s been part of every major decision we’ve made for years.”
“And I’ve been studying Universe Three since I was six years old. I understand who we are. I understand our movement. My father is gone. My brothers are older, but we all know they couldn’t handle this job even if they wanted it. If I’m not ready, then we’re done.” Deidra stood firm, holding the gazes of every person in the room as the morning breeze accented the moment.
“Beyond all that,” she finally said in a low, firm voice, “I am the one who was right about UG’s plans. I am the only one in this room who understood exactly who they are.”
“She’s right,” Gregor Anderson said.
Deidra took advantage of the support to stride to the front of the stage and face her audience.
“We still have Icarus,” she said. “And a new Star Drive will be coming off the assembly line in another month. I’ve spent much of the last day with Dr. Catazara and our technical staff. They’re working on a wormhole breakthrough they don’t think the UG has managed, at least not yet. It will take time to implement, but this war is far from over, my friends—and make no mistake that it is war. From now on we’re not going to be content to sit here in the Eta Cass system. From now on we will take the thrust of the attack to them.”
The council members shifted in their seats.
Deidra Francis clenched her jaw, understanding suddenly that this council was going to agree to give her power not because they agreed, but because they didn’t know what else to do. A wave of disgust hit her so deeply she could barely breathe. Cowards, every one of them. She would replace them. One at a time. Person by person.
Universe Three had just changed.
That much Deidra Francis could guarantee.
The United Government had asked for a fight, and now it was going to find out just how long and just how hard Universe Three could oblige.
CHAPTER 23
Calisto Station Military Courthouse
Local Date: January 27, 2215
Local Time: 1800
“Can I have a word with you, Commander?”
Torrance had been leaving the hearing.
He looked up to see Admiral Umaro at his side and three of her staff lackeys hanging around in the background. Pages and legal aides crisscrossed the Justice Center’s lobby. Lawyers and their assistants scurried around the building like sand crabs on a dry beach, talking, taking meetings, prying, and making deals. Officers strode through the hallways with brisk strides that spoke of their importance. Reporters stood in tight alcoves, hard-linked directly into their networks’ reporting web.
Military police stood at attention as Ambassador Reyes came to join them.
“What do you want?” Torrance said to them both.
“Perhaps we can find a conference room,” Ambassador Reyes replied.
“A place to chat would be excellent,” Umaro replied, gazing around the milling public in the distance.
“Fat chance of finding a quiet place here,” Torrance said.
Reyes nodded to one of his staff.
A few minutes later, the three had a small room.
The walls felt close by and were painted an off-yellow. Four padded chairs sat around an oval table made of varnished wood. A freshly vacuumed carpet absorbed their footsteps.
Reyes and Umaro took seats around the table, but Torrance just leaned against a wall.
It was very quiet.
“What’s wrong?” Torrance finally said.
“I wanted to talk about your future, Torrance,” Umaro said.
“Yes?” Torrance glanced at the ambassador, but Reyes betrayed no emotion.
“You present me with an interesting problem. On one hand, you’re a hero. You’ve saved Everguard, and your action on Orion resulted in the preservation of thousands of lives on Atropos.”
“Not everyone sees that as a good thing,” Torrance said.
“I understand that.” Umaro nodded. “So on the other hand, you’re now associated with Universe Three in unpleasant ways.”
“What do you mean ‘associated with’?”
“Just what I said. You were responsible for destroying Einstein, and despite what the court just said, some people here see your act as traitorous. I’m also sure that some in Atropos City won’t believe your action actually saved U3 lives. People will associate your name and image to these events, but the stories they tell will be colored by their political perspective. Positively or negatively.”
“I wasn’t trying to destroy a spacecraft.”
“Public perception could care less about that, Torrance,” the ambassador said. “But, you already know that.”
“So, what are you telling me?”
Umaro leaned on the edge of the table. “We want you to consider moving away from active military.”
“You mean decommission?”
He didn’t like where this was going. A line of sweat built at his armpits and a warning tingle grew at the back of his neck. He stood up off the wall a bit, and went to lean on a tall chair back.
“No. Not decommission. But I think you might benefit from moving away from spacecraft operations.”
“I like ops.”
“I know,” Umaro said. “And I know you’re no conspirator, but to lead from inside Interstellar Command you will need every person you deal with to be certain of your loyalties. There are questions now. People are whispering, and the military is not without its conspiracy theorists. This aura is going to follow you now whether you want it to or not.”
The truth in Umaro’s words made him angry.
“Not to mention,” the ambassador added, “the fact that some people are not going to be happy that the massive drain we just hit Alpha Centauri A with when Einstein disintegrated might well limit our ability to run Excelsior missions for a while.”
Torrance gave an involuntary grimace.
The Einstein explosion had made a momentary rift in the wormhole connection that had fueled the ship, pulling a pure flow of fusion material into open space and adding to the drain on Alpha Centauri A. Scientists were studying the star in hopes of determining what, if any damage had been done to the link.
“I didn’t mean to destroy Einstein.”
“And yet, you did destroy her. You were there when Universe Three attacked Everguard. Now you just happen to be there to toggle the targeting parameters in such a way as to destroy an Excelsior class starship.”
“I didn’t do that on purpose,” Torrance said, clenching the back of the chair harder. “Besides, Einstein wasn’t even our ship anymore.”
“We planned to get her back, though.”
Torrance looked at Admiral Umaro.
“I would never do anything to harm the Alpha Centauri A system. Actually, I was hoping to convince you to authorize a mission back there.”
“Why would I do that?”
“It might be wise to measure the star’s stability,” he said too briskly.
Umaro gazed at Torrance with amusement that reminded him that she was fully aware of the root of his fascination with the place.
Torrance hesitated, then sighed.
“You know I’ve always thought we would find life on Eden, Admiral.” The words were strange on his tongue this time. After all these years, to say them out loud seemed almost impossible. But there they were, out in the open.
Umaro’s only reaction was to draw her lips together.
Damned anticlimactic.
“You’ve read Romanov’s reports,” Torrance said. “You know we had to delay the launch of the wormhole pods to deal with stray energy interference patterns. I believe those signals came from Eden.”
“We already know the interference came from Eden.”
“But they were cohesive signals.”
“If that was true, Romanov would have written it.”
Torrance’s face grew flushed with heat. There was danger here—say too much and he could put disobeying a commanding officer on his record, say too little and Umaro would smell a cover-up.
“No one was sure what was going on, and Captain Romanov based his decisions on all our evidence against possible life on the planet. But I’ve studied the files. There is a good argument that his original interpretation could be wrong.”
“I see,” Umaro said, sitting back with a perplexed expression. She gazed at the ambassador.
“Actually,” Reyes said. “This twist makes my proposal even more appropriate.”
Torrance looked at the ambassador. “Your proposal?”
Reyes gave an over-wide grin Torrance immediately labeled as “grandfatherly.”
“What the admiral hasn’t told you, yet, is that I was impressed with your mindset. While the military and its culture may well find it hard to decide to trust you…given a little time on the back burner to let things cool down a little, your background makes for a good image to the public, and a good image is half my job. Your ability to develop creative solutions can make for excellent agreements. I’ve requested you be transferred, not retired or decommissioned.”
“Excuse me?” Torrance replied.
The ambassador smiled. “I just heard you say you have an interest in alien life-forms and interstellar communities. I’m always trying to maintain a strong relationship to the scientific world, and always trying to get a better grip on how relations grow among peoples who are separated by interstellar distances. In addition, as we move forward with our explorations—which we will, of course, as a species, we are on a collision course with interstellar exploration, the only variable is time. Anyway, as I was saying, I want you to act as my primary interface with the scientific community. As we move into the future, who is to say what alien life-forms we might find.” Reyes leaned forward across his c
rossed hands. “Who is to say what wonders you might be involved in?”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I think you would say yes.”
Torrance rubbed his forehead, thinking about the data. The image of Thomas Kitchell standing in the doorway of a distant office and telling Torrance he was dedicating his studies to the signals from Eden flashed through his mind.
Reyes kept speaking.
“You could be hobnobbing inside the world of scientists and extraterrestrial studies,” the ambassador said with an edge to his voice that was almost excitement. “It would give you a platform to discuss your ideas in environments where they wouldn’t be so controversial. And if you actually found a data-driven answer that would either support or reject your theory, you would know who to speak with about it.”
“I don’t know.”
“It does seem perfect,” the admiral said.
“What would it do to my career?”
“Nothing,” Umaro said. “I would concur on the ambassador’s request, and it would almost certainly be approved quickly. Actually, I think we could manage to promote you to captain with associated pay and benefits before we let you transfer. Quietly, of course. Given the situation, I don’t think I’ll have any problems setting that up.”
The ambassador’s eyes gleamed with open excitement.
It would be a chance to study the Eden files in ways he hadn’t been able to before, and with that chance would come the ability to actually influence what happened around Alpha Centauri A.
“It’s certainly interesting.”
“Do I take that as a yes?” the ambassador said.
Torrance cleared his throat and took a deep breath.
“I would like to stay with Lieutenant Harthing while she goes through her convalescence.”
The ambassador nodded. “That would be fine. You can go through your orientation while your friend mends.”
Torrance chewed his lip.
“All right,” he said. “You’ve got a deal.”
