by Nick Webb
Admiral Walker.
“Thank you.” He opened the door and entered.
Walker had been in muttered conversation with two other uniformed members of the fleet, but she looked up and smiled as he entered.
The smile transformed her. The years had not been easy on any of them; grey already streaked her dark hair, and there were lines around her eyes. Even the UV lamps they used to stay healthy couldn’t keep the tinge of grey out of her brown skin. When she smiled, he saw exhaustion in her eyes—along with the fleeting glimpse of the child she’d once been on Ganymede Station. He could see her now, hanging upside down in the zero-g, telling stories of ship battles and victories only she could see. Mind like a steel trap, a few people had murmured. An instinct for the fight. She might be the one to—
Best not to say it. No one ever said it, not back then. When he and Walker were young, the Rebellion had been hopes and dreams, two ships and a handful of soldiers with bars sewn on their standard-issue clothes. But Walker and the Rebellion—or, in some circles, “those crazy bastards”—had built a fleet from wrecks and scrap metal, making full use of humanity’s penchant for turning anything into a weapon, and Pike….
Pike still dreamed of Earth. He would have followed anyone who promised him skies and mountains again. In the meantime, he settled for life aboard a cargo hauler. It was cramped and the food wasn’t great, but it was better than dying in the hopelessness and squalor of the outer stations, which was really all he could afford. Mars was out of the question. Venus, a pipe-dream.
Plus, people got all weird when they found out he was from Earth. That he was a Native. Rychenkov was the only man who’d ever shrugged his shoulders. As long as Pike didn’t steal—or crash the ship—the captain didn’t give a damn.
“Pike.” Walker’s voice called him back. Her voice … and that smile.
“Walker.” He couldn’t keep from smiling back.
One of the soldiers looked sharply at him.
“Admiral Walker,” he corrected himself.
“No need for protocol. You’re not one of my soldiers.” She ignored the others’ looks and beckoned him to the table. “Come see.”
A star chart moved slowly through the revolution of the planets before breaking off with a burst of static and returning to the start. Pike’s eyes followed the progression of a single dot tracing its way out of Jupiter’s orbit, swinging wide to gravity sling around Mars, and—he swallowed—stopping at Earth.
“There’s a mission.” Walker’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “We need to retrieve something from Earth.”
Earth. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t quite remember how to speak.
“Pike.” She slid a printout across the desk. “This is what we’re going for.”
He didn’t care, but he picked it up. His eyes tracked over the words three times until he could make sense of them. “Why is it called the ‘Dawning?’”
“To be honest, we don’t know.” She folded her arms. “We just know the laboratory is somewhere near a mountain range. The ... Rockies?” One eyebrow rose at the name.
“Colorado,” Pike murmured.
“You know where it is? You could find them?”
“I grew up there. And ... they’re hard to miss.”
Walker grinned at that, and one of the other commanders cleared his throat loudly.
“We need your ... firsthand knowledge ... to make this mission a success.” There was the faint bitterness there that Pike had become familiar with over the years; those who had grown up in the stations never liked to talk about Earth, especially the ones who’d seen it. For some reason the people on Mars and Mercury and the Snowballs didn’t have that problem. But station-folk? You never talk Earth with a station-dweller. The man’s eyes swept over him coldly. “You will brief our mission specialist—”
“Pike will be the mission specialist.” Walker interrupted her commander calmly. She smiled at him, and then at Pike.
“Ma’am, with all due respect, he is not a member of the fleet.”
“I’m aware of that. However, he has firsthand knowledge of the terrain, he won’t require any medical enhancements to compensate for the gravity, he has been fully vetted, and he has ... experience with weapons.”
“He is not a member of the fleet.” The commander leaned across the table, whispering as if the rest of the room would not be able to hear them.
“I’m aware of that,” Walker repeated. There was an edge in her voice now. “Dismissed, Commander.” Her eyes swept around the room. “All of you are dismissed.”
They left, some more eagerly than others, and Pike studied the ceiling to avoid looking any of them in the eye. When they were gone, Walker sighed.
“Pike, you don’t have to do this. You can be mission specialist if—”
“I’ll do it.”
“You’re sure? If it’s where you grew up, the Rebellion cell you’ll be interacting with might be very close to where....” Her voice trailed off, and then strengthened. “To where your family died,” she said simply.
He swallowed. He hadn’t thought of that day in years, but he had thought of Earth. He had thought of the wind and the grass, the buzz of cicadas. He had thought of the breathless scramble up into the foothills on summer days.
“Technically my dad died on Johnson Station.” He tried to grin. She wasn’t buying it.
“Bill,” she began.
“I’ll do it,” he said again. “When do we leave?”
“Two days. We’re waiting for confirmation on the drop point. We’ll need to escort you in and provide cover for the landing.” She smiled wryly. “If only we already had the Dawning, right? We could make quick work of the whole alien Fugger fleet,” she added, using the semi-vulgar nickname one used for the Telestines in the presence of children, which, in space on the over-crowded stations, were ever-present. And since they hadn’t seen each other since they were children, it seemed appropriate.
“And the Telestines?” He raised his eyebrows. “What about their orbital defenses? This won’t be a cakewalk. I’ve made cargo runs for the Fuggers before, and I’ve run stuff under their noses. Let’s just say that they don’t take kindly to human ships over Earth. They kinda have laws about it....”
“We’re ready for them.”
“You say you are. But are you prepared for the consequences?”
Her gaze was almost cold. “We will lose ships. And people. But this is our chance, Pike. Our chance to change ... well, everything.”
His lips twitched, but his eyes were already fixed back on the mission map. He traced the ship’s progress to Earth and hoped his death-grip on the table wasn’t too obvious.
He was going home. After twenty-four years, he was finally going home.
Chapter Three
Jupiter, Ganymede’s L4 Lagrange point
Command Center, New Beginnings Station
“We need to draw the Telestines’ attention to let our fleet get to Earth before they can mobilize a defense.” Walker raised her hand to point at several glowing dots on the screens in the war room. One of the screens flickered madly, and she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything beyond weary acceptance. Something was always breaking down here. The Rebellion needed mechanics—and plumbers, welders, and construction workers.
She reminded herself, again, not to wish for what she couldn’t have.
If this plan worked, she would have more than she had ever dreamed.
“The scout ships are going ahead.” She nodded at two blue dots entering the asteroid belt, then tapped several red dots. “These locations likely have sensor arrays. If we knock out this one, and create a diversion—more on that in a moment—we should be able to get the task-force through without being seen. Commander King, do you have a progress report?”
King winced and shook her head. “Nothing yet, but it’ll take them a while to cross the asteroid belt. Everything we’ve mapped so far on this trip aligns with what we’ve heard from the transport
ships, and we’ve been able to avoid a few sensor arrays we might not have spotted.”
Walker nodded in satisfaction. Ten years back, the rest of the Rebellion leadership at Jupiter and Mars had told Walker not to bother seeking out agents within the other colonies. Those with enough fire to be loyal would always find their way to the cause, General Essa had said. No unnecessary risks were to be taken. The rest had agreed with him.
The rest, save those in this room today. Lieutenant Commander Scott Larsen had grown up with her on Johnson Station. Commander Delaney, already cast aside by General Essa as too old, had remembered the old militaries of Earth—and his dreams of the planet he had seen with his own eyes stoked Walker’s resolve. Commander King, young and overlooked, had backed Walker time and again in increasingly bitter disputes.
There had been others, of course—men and women whose resolve could not hold, who were not willing to give everything to the Rebellion. Men and women who did not seem to care that humanity lay shattered and chained and starving, scattered throughout the solar system.
They were gone now.
She should be happy. The Rebellion was what she had made it. Every success, however, had only been a thorn in her side. Guns, ships, uniforms, even air brought to them through a wildly inhospitable environment—none of these were victories she should have to win.
She closed her eyes and tried to drive all of that from her mind. They were close to their target now, but that was no excuse for nostalgia. She should focus on the mission.
“Admiral!” Commander Larsen’s raised voice interrupted her brief reverie. “That blip from earlier? I’ve resolved it. It’s Telestine, all right. A small task-force. Four ships.”
Her spine stiffened again. “Course?”
He paused, working out the trajectories and numbers. “Not aiming directly at us,” he looked up, with a note of fear in his eyes. “But … close enough.”
She sprang into action. “Red alert. Larsen, if they were to adjust course and come here, what’s the ETA?”
“At their speed? Five minutes, tops.”
Not enough time. Dammit.
She pressed the button on the command station that would link her into every Exile Fleet ship docked at New Beginnings. “All ships, depart immediately. Don’t wait for your captains or crew members if they’re on station. Leave now. Commander Larsen will feed you a course. Keep the station in between you and the incoming Telestine fleet at all times, and then swing around Jupiter. Aim for the north magnetic pole. That should shield you from their sensors. Go!”
She glanced around at the captains and leaders of her fleet assembled in the command center. There was no time for them to get to their ships. The crews were on their own. The Telestines had caught them with their pants down.
Never again, she resolved to herself.
Minutes later, Larsen confirmed. “Ships are away, Admiral.”
“Our shuttles are humming and waiting for us, if we need to bug out,” said King.
Walker nodded. Not yet—there was still the chance this Telestine task-force was just on a routine patrol, and not on a pre-emptive strike mission. “Hold here. For now. Larsen, track that task-force with every passive sensor we’ve got. No radar. We don’t want to tip our hand and blow our cover. We’re supposed to be an abandoned station, after all.”
The minutes passed, and a deadly silence had descended over the command center. The assembled fleet officers, powerless to do anything other than wait, stood and watched Walker and her crew monitor the incoming threat.
“Any course change, Larsen?”
He shook his head. “Not yet, ma’am.”
Another five minutes. The tension in the room was palpable. Walker felt she could cut it with a knife. But the stakes were high—as high as they’d ever been. They were on the cusp of launching the most important mission ever undertaken. If the Telestines wanted to cause the most damage, to nip the Rebellion in the bud, now was the time. If this was a pre-emptive strike, how the hell did they know?
Larsen looked up, the color beginning to drain from his face. “Ma’am? They’ve changed course.”
Chapter Four
Jupiter, Ganymede’s L4 Lagrange point
Command Center, New Beginnings Station
Walker sprang into action. “Everyone to the shuttles. Now.”
The command center erupted in a flurry of motion. This was the moment they’re drilled and trained for, but it wasn’t going down as any had planned. They’d trained for battle, not immediate retreat. If this was an invasion, it meant they had a leak. A plant. Someone who’d betrayed them.
The command center was half empty when Larsen called out again. “Admiral! Their course change….” He stared at his console, poring over the numbers.
“Yes?” Her hand had been poised over the comm button, ready to send out a pre-recorded message to her contact on Venus. The one who’d given her the critical information about the Dawning. The one who’d helped her stand up and fund the new operations on Mercury. The pre-recorded message said simply, “We’ve been discovered, and we’re evacuating. Go to ground. Cease all comm traffic. We’ll resurface and regroup where we discussed earlier.”
“They changed course, but … their new course is not toward us.” He looked up, relieved. “Looks like they’re aiming to pass by Io. With about a hundred thousand kilometers to spare.”
She relaxed, though not completely. “Stand down alert. Cancel shuttle launches. Recall the fleet when the Telestine task-force has passed.” She breathed deeply, not realizing how long she’d been holding her breath. “Looks like Pike gets his chance after all.” She looked around at everyone composing themselves after the near-miss. “People, if this mission succeeds, if we obtain the Dawning, it’s the beginning of the end for the Telestines. And the first step in our final victory.”
“I still don’t think Mr. Pike was the best choice for this.” Commander Jack Delaney settled back in his chair and studied Walker, his old, wrinkled forehead growing deep furrows. He had been with her from the start, but lately, it seemed that nothing she planned was acceptable to him.
“Pike knows Earth,” Walker said simply.
“So do I.” The words came through gritted teeth. Delaney had been eight years old when the invasion came; he had survived the first exodus, and the filth and despair of the earliest settlements. No matter how he tried to mask it, Walker caught the bitterness in his tone when he asked why the younger generation fought for a planet they had never seen.
She never answered him when he asked. It would be too risky. For all his bluster, Delaney had a quick mind and a legendary skill for strategy. Anything Walker said might betray her. She could not risk him discovering her true intentions and motivations, which she would never admit to another living soul, until it was all over, humanity safe.
“Pike was born and raised in the Rockies,” she said patiently now. “He knows where the Telestines have bases—”
“Where they had bases twenty years ago.”
“—and he can survive without supplies,” Walker continued. She did not bother to raise her voice. “He was trained to use guns since he could hold one. We just have to get him onto the surface.”
She stared Delaney down until he swallowed and looked away. He could see the look in her eyes. He knew she wasn’t going to entrust this mission to a man past seventy, his hair white.
A man who’d never held a gun until fifteen years ago.
For a moment, she felt a stab of pity. But not everyone was made to be a soldier. And dreaming of glory in battle was not worth more than victory.
“Any other questions?” Walker swept her eyes over the group.
There was a hasty murmur, some heads shaking, and for a moment—just one—she felt a wave of regret. She understood why so few questioned her, after all: her rise to power had been as careful as it was ruthless. She started with the cargo haulers, against General Essa’s express wishes. Walker knew what too much knowledge could do to a p
erson, and the transports that carried goods between the stations and the colonies had seen it all, from the palatial estates above Venus down to the worst of the stations surrounding Jupiter. They were the ones stopped for the petty indignities of ship inspections by both human and Telestine bureaucrats alike. They passed Earth time and again, a forbidden home, and they looked down at the blues and greens and knew it was forever lost to them.
It hadn’t taken much for them to start turning over their data on the obstacles within the asteroid belt, or the patrol schedules of the Telestine ships around Earth, or the questions that betrayed just where the Telestines were watching for threats. When missions were suggested, it was Walker who knew which systems to avoid and which to target. It was Walker who could predict the defensive capabilities of the satellites in orbit around Earth. Her power within the Rebellion grew as she anticipated Essa’s mistakes.
When Essa fell, at last, it was Walker who courted the youngest among the cargo fleet. Their parents, long since accustomed to passing the Rebellion intelligence, accepted the trade: send their children to the Rebellion and they received the promise of Earth in return. The new recruits brought with them contacts within the manufacturing sector—linked, however distantly, to the mines and shipyards on Mercury. When the Rebellion’s ranks swelled and its fortunes rose, the officers knew who had brought them so far.
It was Walker who stepped into Essa’s shoes, and Walker who now commanded the Exile Fleet. King and Delaney questioned her, but rarely—and the others never did.
“Good. King, keep us apprised of the scouting information. The rest of you ... it’s time to make a ruckus. We want the Telestines distracted so they aren’t watching our ships come in.” She hit a button, and three separate systems came up. “The first diversion: we have maintenance problems on these stations necessitating food aid and some parts.” She tapped at several dots, stations tentatively aligned with the Rebellion but without any Fleet resources aboard. “These issues fall within the parameters of the Technological Easement, and with any luck, Tel’rabim will handle the food side of things.”
