Starhold

by J. Alan Field

  “Oh, so sorry. Excuse me. Ah, there you are my Lord!” Deputy Governor Sheel regained his balance and crossed the courtyard to where his superior was seated. Sheel was a lanky, goateed man. He appeared to be older than Cheprin, but was actually younger in absolute years. Somewhere just shy of 110 True, Sheel was from one of the Lesser Noble families, hence his Treatments were of inferior quality. His beard was already sprinkled with gray and wrinkles were beginning to show up on his face and hands. It was still better than the natural aging of the Common Children, thought Cheprin. How horrible their lives must be…

  “Lord Governor,” Sheel began, then hesitated, distracted by seeing the last of the breakfast food being removed. “Um, my Lord, I’ve brought Doctor Acree to see you. I believe you stated that you wished to speak with him before his transport departed this morning.”

  As the other man advanced, Naar greeted Sheel. “Have you had breakfast yet, my Lord?”

  “Ah, Madam Naar, so nice of you. As a matter of fact—”

  “Breakfast is over,” declared Cheprin. “Sheel, do sit down, you’re making me nervous.”

  Sheel’s older companion gave a brief, formal bow to the Lord Governor. He was thin, dressed in somewhat unkempt civilian clothes, their shabbiness contrasted by the sharp official green tunic suits worn by Cheprin and Sheel. The man was in his early sixties, with a mane of thick, graying brown hair flowing from the back of his head and gathered into a ponytail. The front was a different story—a receding hairline which had gotten higher with age. Perspiring from the morning sun and a clear case of nerves, he looked like a person who just wanted to get this over.

  “Doctor Acree, I hope you have good news for me today,” the Lord Governor said as he glared at the scientist.

  “Yes, my Lord, very good news. Our testing of the new components here at the ground lab has been successful. With your blessings, my staff and I will leave this afternoon to complete the work. We will need the use of three transports to convey the personnel and equipment.”

  Cheprin continued to eye the man with a guarded look. “How long, Doctor? When will the Threshold be operational?”

  “I would say in forty-eight hours, my Lord, possibly thirty-six if we are lucky.” He bit his lip, quickly recanting. “No, better make it forty-eight just to be sure.”

  Cheprin took a deep breath. Acree seemed sure he had somehow earned the Lord Governor’s ire and was visibly relieved when he saw a broad grin spread across his superior’s face. “That is excellent news, simply excellent, Doctor. You have permission for the use of the transports. Sheel, handle that will you?”

  Sheel seemed to be daydreaming, perhaps thinking of the breakfast he’d missed out on. “Um? Oh, of course, my Lord Governor, it will be done. Doctor, if I may ask a question. How will our people on the other side know we are here?”

  Acree beamed, always happy to discuss his work. “The Threshold will project a gateway into our home star system—they can’t miss it. The Threshold will then hold the gateway open for as long as we need. We will simply send a message through and await a reply.”

  Naar moved close and placed her hand on Cheprin’s shoulder. “Oh, my Lord, may I accompany Doctor Acree off-world today? It would be an honor to represent you aboard the Threshold during the moment of its activation. May I?”

  “But, Naar, I need you here. There is so much work to do, even more now that we are on the verge of contacting the Emperor once again.”

  The woman repositioned herself ever so slightly, so that her left leg rubbed against his right. Cheprin smiled and gazed into her eyes. Sheel and Acree both appeared to be intensely uncomfortable.

  “I really, strongly believe,” pressed Naar “that you need an official of the colonial government on the Threshold when it is activated. It will send a signal to the workers that you understand and appreciate their work and sacrifices. I will return the day after the activation. I’m sure Doctor Acree can manage to send me back, can’t you, Doctor?”

  “It would be my pleasure, Madam Naar. You would be most welcome aboard the Threshold and will be our honored guest.” The older man would have said anything to expedite his departure.

  Cheprin was beginning to feel like he had lost control of the discussion and rose from his chair. “Perhaps it would be for the best. Yes, the government really should have a representative present. After all, re-establishing contact with the Emperor will be a momentous occasion. I’d go up myself, but my schedule for the upcoming week is quite impossible.”

  Sheel halfway raised his hand for permission to speak. “My Lord, in my position as Deputy Governor, if it be your desire, I could make the trip with Doctor Acree.”

  “It most certainly is NOT my desire, Sheel. Naar will do the honors.”

  The Lord Governor’s aide left to pack for her trip into space, as did Dr. Acree. The noon sun was nearly upon them, so the remaining two men retreated into the comfort of Cheprin’s office.

  Lord Governor Cheprin’s office was cavernous. He’d had it built this way to be imposing, but Sheel saw it more as a reflection of Cheprin’s vanity, or more likely his insecurity. As he sat down at his desk, the Lord Governor spoke in a tone of reconciliation. “Sheel, I didn’t mean to be terse with you earlier, but obviously Naar had her heart set on the trip to the Threshold. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Of course, my Lord, I completely understand and please, think nothing of it.”

  “By the way, Sheel,” the Lord Governor said as he began to examine some files, “why are you still here?”

  Sheel walked around the desk to stand beside Cheprin and reached down to activate some controls. Several projected images floated in front of the two men.

  “Our cruiser Obedience has returned to spacedock, some four hours ago. Captain Jahak has filed his report on the sortie into Sarissan space. He had a very interesting engagement with a Union cruiser he lured into battle. I think you will want to examine the data in these files, my Lord.”

  “Yes,” responded Cheprin as he read and physically manipulated the data in midair with his hands, pushing and pulling bits of light as if they were solid objects. “This seems to be consistent with what we’ve discovered about the other nearby human faction. What were they called again?”

  “Gerrhans sir, of the Gerrhan Commonwealth.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” acknowledged Cheprin. He continued to scan the information for a moment longer. “All right, I’ll review this in more detail later this afternoon.”

  The Lord Governor deactivated the displays and looked pensive for a moment. “And still no sign of the Adversary?”

  “None, my Lord,” Sheel replied firmly.

  Cheprin rose and walked to a large window facing the garden, where he gazed out at his beloved flowers. “Obedience has done well, although I would have preferred that the Sarissan ship been destroyed. Our actions should stir these people up against each other, buying us the time we need. At the very least, these raids into nearby systems are providing us with valuable intelligence. Perhaps we should have started them earlier. No matter, once the Threshold has been activated, I will send a message home to Rhuzar informing them of our discovery. Then, our battle fleets will begin to pour through the Threshold and we will conquer this space in the name of the Emperor.” Cheprin seemed more to be performing a soliloquy from some great play rather than speaking to the Deputy Governor at this point.

  “Just think, Sheel. I am about to present the Emperor with a prize like no other in the long and storied history of our people. As a child, I could never have dreamed of making this kind of contribution to His glory. He will honor me, perhaps with a private audience. Of course, the important thing is that the might and power of His Eternal Majesty will be expanded because of what we do here.” He jogged himself, as if awakening from some delightful dream.

  “Pour me a glass of red wine, Sheel,” Cheprin ordered, “and one for yourself if you wish.”

  The lean Deputy Governor moved to the sideboard to
pour two glasses of wine. He found some private amusement in the way today’s events had lifted the Lord Governor’s usually sullen mood. Ordinarily, Sheel would be pouring only one drink, and not for himself.

  Accepting his libation, Cheprin eyed his reflection in the wineglass and was very pleased by what he saw. “By the way, Sheel, there’s something I want you to do for me. I need you to attend a meeting with the nanotech managers this afternoon.”

  5: Currents

  Planet Rusalka

  Hybrias system

  “Welcome to Port Bannatyne” read the massive sign as they stepped off the shuttle. The salty smell of the sea air hit them, which was to be expected on Rusalka. Over ninety-five percent of the planet was covered by water, so anywhere you went on this world the chances were good you weren’t far from the ocean. Port Bannatyne was Rusalka’s capital and largest city. Etta Sanchez and Frank Carr had completed the first part of their journey, which had begun four days ago in the office of Director Tolbert. Sanchez was fatigued from the trip. Who knew how Carr felt? He wasn’t talking much.

  Two days earlier, Sanchez and Carr had met in Sarissa orbit on the Arisugawa Starport as planned and then boarded a commercial starliner. The OMI had seen fit to send its two operatives off on one of the most important missions ever in economy class. The passenger ship was filled to capacity. Sanchez and Carr were seated in the middle of a row with people on either side of them. To Carr’s left was an obese man who sat down and fell asleep almost instantly. Carr commented on how lucky he was not to have to engage in conversation, but Sanchez took this as a hint aimed at her. Frank’s luck soon changed however when the man began to snore loudly. To the right of Sanchez was a jittery middle-aged woman named Heather who had never been in space before. The woman was alternatingly nervous, then excited, then ill, then back to nervous. Sanchez didn’t know whether to feel sorrier for Heather or herself.

  Traveling the seventeen light-years to the Hybrias system would have taken nearly six weeks via hyperspace, but most passenger ships moved through the linked hypergate network. Gated travel between the stars was instantaneous. The starliner would pass into the gigantic man-made structure at Artemis and then a few seconds later they would exit from another hypergate located in the Sequoya system. Due to the extraordinary expense of constructing and maintaining even a single hypergate, the Artemis star system had only two: one connected to Sequoya and the other linked to the Zavijava system. In fact, there were only ten Gates in the entirety of Union space and no system had more than two. To travel long distances, one had to jump from system to system using the Gates or take the longer hyperspace voyage.

  To travel to Rusalka, Sanchez and Carr gated from Artemis to Sequoya where they changed ships, then travelled from Sequoya to the Bonaventure system. The two stayed overnight at a hotel on the Tezrina Starport, then grabbed another starliner bound for Hybrias the next morning. Most of the travel time was spent waiting as ships queued up for their turn to pass through each Gate. Military ships had first priority and with the current heightened political tensions, there was a lot of military movement. A few superfrieghters were also in the queues, but only the richest multi-world corporations chose to pay the hefty Gate fees. Most merchant ships used their hyperdrives to plod among the stars.

  They arrived at Rusalka Station on the second morning of their journey and secured seats on a planetside bound shuttle. Once on the surface, at the spaceport located outside the city of Port Bannatyne, the two purchased tickets for the tramway into town. Sanchez was less than enthused to find it would take another thirty minutes to reach the hotel, because that was thirty more minutes stuck in a vehicle with Frank Carr. He had hardly spoken during the entire trip, and when he did, his comments seemed mostly designed to stifle further conversation. He became particularly testy when she tried to ask personal questions, about family and such. The Quijanan wasn’t fond of passive-aggressive types in general, let alone getting that attitude from someone with whom she was going to spend the next several months.

  Port Bannatyne was a metropolitan area of about a half-million residents located along the western coast of the planet’s only continent. As they rode along the shore heading toward downtown, Sanchez observed that the water had a distinctively greenish hue compared to the seas on Sarissa, or her native world Quijano. It was caused by the abundance of phytoplankton in Rusalka’s Great Ocean. Although the local business community liked to tout Rusalka as a tourist world—“Great Adventures on the Great Ocean!”—the planet struggled to attract mainstream vacationers. Maybe the green ocean had something to do with that.

  Rusalka was the most distant Union world from Sarissa and a sparsely populated planet as well. There simply wasn’t very much land for people to live on. Well over half the world’s people lived in the Port Bannatyne area. Even in this distant place, it was evident that nerves were frayed because of the attacks on Sarissan and Gerrhan outposts. Netscreens in the tramcars flashed news regarding the mysterious incidents. People on the tramway were talking about troop movements and rumors of the impending arrival of Sixth Fleet to reinforce Fifth Fleet, which was headquartered in this system. Carr actually broke his silence long enough to mutter, “There’s a new development,” toward Sanchez when he heard that piece of chatter.

  Upon reaching the hotel, Sanchez grabbed a shower and put on her service blue space force uniform. Although they had traveled here in civvies, she and Carr were reporting to the local SUSF ground base after they grabbed a meal and she felt it was good form to observe protocol.

  In the hotel restaurant, she was pleasantly surprised that the menu included some traditional Quijano dishes, no doubt because of the tourist trade. Hunger sneaking up on her, she ordered majao, while Carr got the broiled red thunni and a salad. Thunni was a type of native tuna-like fish, or so the server assured him. After an Old Oakfield and his salad, Carr seemed to be in a better mood.

  “Food good, is it?” he asked, teasing Sanchez as she quickly devoured her lunch.

  “Sorry for being a pig, but I was hungrier than I thought. To answer your question—yes, it is good. This isn’t real charque, I’m pretty sure it’s something soy, but still not bad. Besides Carr, after today we won’t be eating for over three standard weeks, so you’d better dig in.” They had come seventeen light-years from Sarissa, but there would be no hypergate transit from here to Earth. The next eleven light-years would take almost four weeks. During that time, they would go into hypersleep and let the ship’s computer pilot the vessel.

  “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to eat when we get to Earth,” Carr remarked. “Drop me planetside and you can grab a nice big lunch onboard the ship while I scout around. I figure if you put me down about ten klicks outside the settlement that would be about right.”

  Sanchez knew this argument was inevitable so she spoke up. “I’m coming with you,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “Like hell you are. You’re the pilot.”

  “And this ship will gather tons of intel without even setting down.”

  Carr swallowed a bite of his fish. “I know, I’ve read the specs on the ship, but there’s no substitute for eyeballs on the ground.”

  “So,” she countered, “two pairs of eyeballs will be better than one. We can put down, unload, and then set the ship on ground camo mode. It will stay hidden until we get back to it. No problem.”

  Carr finished his fish and asked the server for the check. “Let me think about it.”

  Sanchez sensed he was just putting her off, but even that was a minor victory, so she decided to take it and change the subject. “By the way, I wanted to ask you what you thought about all the talk on the tramway coming into town. You really think Sixth Fleet is headed this way?”

  “Maybe. Gossip runs wild when people are edgy. Did you notice the Vespera docked at Rusalka Station when we pulled in? The task force is beginning to pull together. Let’s just hope none of this Earth stuff leaks out to the general public.”

  Both of them
sat quietly while waiting for the check. The enormity of what lay before them was unfolding in their minds as the minutes ticked closer to the mission. A trip to Earth and a possible first contact situation. The very real possibility of war, perhaps with more than one enemy. Four days ago, life seemed so much simpler.

  The check came, but Sanchez postponed payment by deciding to have coffee and dessert.

  “Sure you won’t join me?” she asked as she ordered a pinecherry tart. “After all, the Director’s paying.”

  Carr decided to have some dessert after all—another Old Oakfield. As Sanchez dug into her pastry, she remembered something.

  “Oh, I’ve been meaning to tell you. After you left Bismarck’s the other day, I was confronted by an SSB inspector.”

  “Let me guess,” Carr asked as he crunched down on some ice from his drink. “Little old lady, tad on the heavy side? Looked like a refugee from a knitting circle?”

  “That’s the one, Inspector Humphrey. Tried to bribe me into telling her secrets. I reported it to Director Tolbert when I got back to Yancey House. She was very interested in you, Carr. I really think if you play your cards right, you could get lucky.”

  Carr downed the rest of his drink in one strong gulp. “First, it’s Mumphrey, not Humphrey. Second, I didn’t think geeks like you had a sense of humor, Sanchez. Now, make me happy and tell me she didn’t get a glimpse of those briefing tablets.”

  “The what?” Sanchez wavered for a tick, carefully thinking back on her encounter with the SSB matron. “No. No, I’m sure she didn’t. I grabbed them up as soon as she sat down.”

  Carr gave her a long look and then a tight-lipped smile. “Good. Let’s go see about our ride.”

  Sanchez swallowed the last of her dessert. Gods, he thinks I’m an idiot.

  * * * *

  The SUSF base sent a groundcar around to collect them at the hotel. It was only late-afternoon local time, but with all the travel and the time changes, Carr felt like he could sleep for a week. It was one of those rare times when he was going to get his wish—times four. Frank had dressed in civilian clothes for the space force base visit. He had been in the OMI for more years than he’d been in the regular army and didn’t feel as comfortable wearing the uniform as he used to.