The mechanism which propelled her ship across the stars bore little similarity to the initial prototype. The ring which held open the warp bubble was now dynamically generated and consisted of exotic particles too small even en masse to be visible. The energy requirements were met in full by the He3 LEN fusion reactor thanks to the boost in negative mass provided as a byproduct of the impulse engine.
And while the first prototype had achieved a mere seventy times the speed of light, her drive was faster by a factor of thousands. Admittedly, it was a very high-end model.
The particles released by the bubble’s termination were funneled into micro-singularities so as to not destroy everything in a 0.2 AU vicinity. Still, space traffic in the Earth-Lunar-Mars conjunction was quite heavy, as the region housed greater than fifteen percent of the galactic population. Though volumes of research indicated it was perfectly safe, Alliance bureaucrats insisted on concern over the idea of billions of micro-singularities being created every day in such a congested sector—some notion about destabilizing the space-time manifold.
So superluminal drive operation by private spacecraft was forbidden inside the Main Asteroid Belt; military vessels and commercial transports naturally got a pass. And she wasted half a day on 0.1% of her trip.
Her natural instinct would normally be to work up a case of righteous indignation at the blatant capitulation to fear rather than science, but she just couldn’t muster the necessary outrage.
After all, she was home.
4
EARTH
VANCOUVER, EASC HEADQUARTERS
* * *
THE MEMBERS OF THE EARTH ALLIANCE Strategic Command Governing Board positioned themselves around the oval table. Five of them were present in the flesh, the four Regional Commanders via full-dimensional holo.
The table was a true antique, crafted for the Politburo Standing Committee headquarters in Zhongnanhai in the waning years of CCP rule. Constructed of natural Burmese Teak and lacquered in the ancient Chinese tradition, the finish now lay buried beneath multiple layers of AgInide secure conductive glass.
The table was, of course, impressively large—far larger than required for a mere nine occupants—but a more practical table would have been less grand and not befitting the importance of those who utilized it.
A late afternoon sun shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the penthouse conference room. Shielding filtered the sunlight to reduce the glare without marring the view of the Pacific, seeing as the room had been placed on the western-facing side of the building specifically for its magnificent view.
General Price Alamatto waited until the door had closed behind the departing aides before turning back to the gathered Board members. “As I was saying prior to the interruption, with a minor readjustment to the Sol System construction budget we will have the funds to assemble an additional six high-orbit arrays and deploy them to the Fionava and Deucali Provinces.”
Miriam Solovy leaned forward in her chair while keeping her shoulders firmly squared. It was an assertive posture she used often to persuasive effect. “And if we supply them to Fionava and Deucali, then New Cornwall and Messium will want them as well, and probably Karelia and Nyssus, too—all on account of a mythical threat from nonexistent aliens forever on the cusp of the frontier. And indulging them will wipe out the Sol System construction budget.”
She shook her head in a terse but firm motion. “No. If those funds are truly available, better for us to use them to reinforce Earth’s outer defense web with a redundant backup power grid and install the new longer-range emission signature sensors. Added redundancy will increase security and the sensors will give us significantly earlier warning should unwelcome visitors target Earth.”
General Liam O’Connell cocked an overly bushy eyebrow in her direction. “Careful Admiral, lest someone insinuate you were advocating an ‘Earth First’ agenda.”
O’Connell was the Southwestern Regional Commander, and seemed to believe overseeing the largest region in terms of kiloparsecs gave him the right to be an arrogant prick. He was incorrect, not that it stopped him.
She regarded him coolly. “I don’t particularly care what someone insinuates about me, General. I am doing no such thing, save for the irrefutable fact that both the knowledge and capabilities of the Earth Alliance are concentrated here on Earth, and we should recognize this and act accordingly.”
Alamatto cleared his throat from the head of the table. “You make a commendable and valid point, Admiral. Nevertheless, we must not appear to be Earth-centric in our decision-making. Earth has plenty enough resources on its own. We need to be cognizant of the reality that the colonies often lack our inherent means and require our protection.”
A strong Earth was a strong Alliance; she’d never understand why more people didn’t see this. She worked to protect the best interests of the entire Earth Alliance, colonies included.
Her glare was steel across the table. “Which protection we won’t be able to provide if our defense web goes down and we come under attack.”
O’Connell snorted from the safety of his holo. “Who do you think is going to attack Earth, Miriam? Seneca? They wouldn’t dare. Raiders from New Babel, or maybe some nutcases from Pandora? Be realistic. Earth is by far the most fortified, heavily defended world in settled space. No one is coming for Earth.”
Inwardly she sighed, though she was careful not to let it show. At this point the Board was in danger of becoming completely dominated by the Regional Commanders. Alamatto was too weak a leader to keep them in line and there wasn’t another faction to counterbalance them. The other three Earth-based members were too beholden to competing political benefactors to act in concert with her or Alamatto.
She was fighting a losing battle and she knew it. But so long as she held a position of any power, she would not fold. She dropped her chin and gazed slightly up and sideways at O’Connell, one eyebrow arched; the impression created was of a master disappointed in the ignorance of the student.
“If I could predict the nature of the adversary, rest assured we would already be meeting the threat. You believe we’ve thought of everything. But the real danger is, as it has been since the dawn of history, the enemy we cannot predict. This is what I seek always to defend against.”
Alamatto placed both palms on the table and pressed into it in an attempt to reassert control over the meeting. “You both raise valid concerns which we must weigh alongside other considerations.”
He paused to grace the table with a smooth smile; the poised, confident yet nonthreatening countenance ranked as one of his strongest assets.
“In my view the defense web is sufficiently strong for the time being, but mine is not the only opinion which matters. Are there any further observations, or shall we vote on the initiative?”
DEUCALI
EARTH ALLIANCE SW REGIONAL MILITARY HEADQUARTERS
* * *
General Liam O’Connell barreled down the hall from the QEC room toward his office. His nods to the junior officers he passed, when they occurred at all, were curt. The base headquarters bustled with activity even on this most typical of days; nevertheless, the crowd unfailingly parted to let his tall, burly form pass unhindered.
The Board meeting had gone well he thought. Personally he wasn’t all that worked up over the need for additional high-orbit defense arrays, but as a power play he must admit it was a shrewd maneuver.
Fionava seemed to be genuinely concerned by potential dangers from the frontiers of space beyond its borders. This world wasn’t subject to those concerns to so great an extent, but he was more than happy to join their cause if it meant greater resources and increased influence would come his way.
Deucali was one of the largest ‘Second Wave’ colonies, and its population continued to grow. With each passing year it exercised greater control over the smaller settlements in the Province. The colony’s star was on the ascension, no question about it. Without slowing he barked an order at a passing
Lieutenant regarding the unfinished upgrades to the QEC room.
Alamatto was a weak-willed pussy. His entire career had been based on nothing more than the military establishment’s respect for his father—but were he alive, the elder Alamatto would be mortified by his excuse for a son. Solovy could be a royal pain in the ass, but she was little more than a pencil pusher; if she had ever seen live combat it had been back in the Bronze Age. As for the remainder of the Board, they weren’t worth wasting energy over.
At a crossway he abruptly stopped and pivoted to face the young man traversing the opposite hall. “Corporal, did your babysitter teach you to tuck your shirt in like that? Sharpen those creases before I lay eyes on you again, son.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
He had turned and moved on before the Corporal managed to stutter out the reply.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. The Northeastern Regional Commander, Rychen, was an obstacle waiting to happen. He oversaw the region closest to Senecan space, which alone made him a significant player. Granted, he also had won numerous medals in the Crux War, was respected by his peers and by all accounts was a shining beacon of honor and integrity. The man was without a doubt dangerous. But for the moment their interests were aligned, so Liam played nice.
He waved off a couple of officers trying to vie for his attention, strode into his office and closed the door behind him. In an earlier time it would have slammed, but doors didn’t do such things anymore. A shame, really.
After a quick sip of water he shifted his focus to the series of flashing files on his desk overlay. He evaluated, assigned and dispatched them with brutal efficiency, pausing only to scowl at the status update on the construction of the new sim training complex. He personally preferred old-school live fire exercises—sim training produced weak-willed soldiers like Alamatto—but the decision came straight from the politicians. No actual action required, he sent it on its way.
His scowl vanished at the next item; in the privacy of his office, it morphed into a smug smile. The Annual Founding Day Parade was next week. The entire 1st Deucali Brigade would be out in their dress blues, proudly showing what it meant to be an Earth Alliance Marine. It never failed to bring a tear to his eye to march through the streets at the head of his men. Though the Public Relations Staff Commander was responsible for the preparations, he had taken an active oversight role. He scheduled a meeting for 0700 the next morning to review the state of readiness.
The voice of his secretary interrupted his train of thought. “Sir, Commander Bradlen has arrived for your meeting.”
With a grimace he closed the various screens and straightened his jacket. “Send him in.”
An upstart lad, Bradlen had risen quickly in the ranks due to an overabundance of competence. He returned the salute of the young Commander. “At ease.”
“Yes, sir.” Bradlen sat down across the desk and opened a series of screens between them. “I’ve uploaded the latest supply reports and inventories as well as the shipment schedule for the next three months.”
He paused while O’Connell accessed the files. “As you can see, we’ll receive a new shipment of test drones next week, along with the new ware for the existing high-orbit defense array. I heard a rumor we were getting another array soon, sir. Any chance it’s true?”
Liam smiled thinly, the curl of his lips not otherwise impacting his expression. “I’m afraid that’s classified for now.”
“My mistake. Um, about the ware for the array…Earth says it’s ready for deployment, but I assume you’ll want it tested thoroughly first, sir?”
“You assume correctly, Commander.”
“Understood. I’ll arrange for it to be routed through Configuration/Testing before Implementation Services gets their hands on it.” He cleared his throat and seemed to hesitate in uncertainty.
“Spit it out, son, I don’t have all day here.”
“Right. Sir, I feel I should draw your attention to a discrepancy in the inventories for our VI short-range missiles. There’s a report on it in the files. The discrepancy occurred in the middle of the transition to the new inventory system, so it’s probably just a glitch, but….”
Liam snorted in clear disgust. “Goddamn warenuts. Every time they push out something ‘better’ it only makes things worse.”
“I…yes, sir. I can have Support run some diagnostics, see if they can find the problem—”
Liam shook his head in a manner which brooked no dissent. “Won’t be necessary. I will take great pleasure in informing Logistics Command they need to fix their crocked ware.”
“Of course, sir. If there’s nothing else?”
He had begun pulling up other reports; his head jerked in the direction of the door. “Dismissed.”
Once Bradlen departed, he dropped the illusion of activity. He sat silently as an epoch passed…then reopened the Inventory Discrepancy Report. Seconds ticked by while he simply stared at it, as though the authority of his glare might melt it away.
He didn’t know why he was hesitating. The decision had already been made; the deed already done. In many ways the decision had been made twenty-four years ago when he stood over his mother’s grave and made a vow, even if it had taken until two months ago for the opportunity for him to fulfill his vow to finally knock on his door.
He had expected the discrepancy to be discovered. In this hyper-cyberized, always-connected world they lived in, it would have been impossible to hide it—so he hadn’t tried. Instead he’d made sure the materials vanished during the hectic, confused inventory system transition, thereby providing a ready explanation for their ‘absence.’
Deucali Military HQ housed tens of thousands of armaments. Anyone who noticed a couple of dozen missiles unaccounted for would merely nod in agreement at how annoying the ‘damn ware bugs’ were and move on with their lives.
He swallowed hard, annoyed at the sudden dryness in his throat. No reason to become all emotional about it now. He had already sold his soul for a chance at vengeance, and there was no getting it back.
He deleted the report from the system.
5
SENECA
CAVARE
* * *
CALEB IDLY TOED THE PILOT’S CHAIR side to side while he stepped through the preflight checklist a final time, mentally verifying every component which was checked off deserved to be. He had one remaining item to acquire, but it wouldn’t be on any official checklist.
Satisfied the systems were a go, the food stores stocked, the engines prepped and the weapons in working order, he killed the power and headed down the ramp. At the bottom he turned to give her one last glance-over.
He had to give Division credit; they didn’t skimp on ships and hardware. One step removed from a fighter, the scout ship wasn’t luxurious or roomy but she was lean and fast. The weapons tubes tucked into the lower hull so as not to increase drag. The custom EM sensors had been mounted beneath the nose the day before.
Yeah, she would do.
He slung his pack over his shoulder and headed out to the government spaceport’s surface parking. Yet when he reached his bike, he hesitated.
Traffic whizzed along airlanes overhead in the evening sky and beside him on the streets. Rush hour appeared well underway, which meant he was going to have a bitch of a time getting across the city to Mom’s house—which in turn meant he’d be late for his meeting.
The devil on his shoulder whispered in alluring, dulcet tones that he should skip the visit home and head straight for the bar. She was fine. And it wasn’t like he’d be standing her up. Unless he showed up at the front door, she’d never know he’d passed through Cavare.
But she was alone. With Isabela on Krysk for the year doing a visiting professorship, she wasn’t able to check on their mother nearly as often as usual. Mom might have had an accident, or forgotten to shop for groceries, or….
But Isabela went by a few days ago.
And won’t be back again for a month.
He groaned alou
d as a guilty conscience shoved the devil aside and reasserted its dominance. “Shit.”
More than a little disgusted with himself, he swung a leg over the bike, revved the engine and floored it out of the parking lot. He swerved into a service alley. The least he could do was take a damn shortcut.
“Oh, Caleb darling, it’s so nice of you to visit.”
Yes, that’s exactly what he was. Nice. He hugged her, trying not to stifle within the desperate embrace. “Hi, Mom. I don’t have long, but I wanted to stop by and make sure you were okay.”
“Yes, I’m just….” She ambled into the kitchen, wisps of dull brown hair falling out of a messy bun and to her shoulders. She pushed half-finished sketches off the table to the floor and gestured for him to sit. He complied, then watched her as she searched in the cabinets for tea to brew.
He remembered when she had been a vibrant, smart, funny woman. For the entirety of his childhood that woman had been his mother. Now she was merely…pathetic. He knew this—he’d known this for a long time—but coming face-to-face with the stark reality still sent him for a loop. Old memories never die.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’m good. Come sit with me for a few minutes.”
She paused in the middle of the room, her unfocused gaze wandering across the kitchen. It was as if she had completely forgotten where she was. Seconds ticked by. Finally she jerked, a fleeting, erratic jolt of movement before her bearing returned to its former listless, empty state. She gingerly sat down opposite him. “How’s work, dear? Is the plant doing well?”
“Absolutely. We’re rolling out a new line of six-person skycars, geared toward families. In fact, I’m headed off to Elathan tomorrow to oversee the ramp-up of the production line.” After years of practice, the lies rolled off his tongue more easily than truth.
Starshine: Aurora Rising Book One Page 5
