by Tom Shepherd
“That’s your plan—send my three children to confront a lawless tribe of barbarians?”
“The Suryadivan Sacred Protectorate is an ancient culture with complex legal—”
“Sacred my Spanish ass! They’re banditos, blaming God for their crimes.”
“They worship forty-six gods.”
“So, they’re heathens, too!” Bianca spoke perfect Terran Standard with only a hint of her native Español Nuevo. Her Terran diction was so perfecto most people never guessed the universal human tongue wasn’t her first language. Dark blonde hair gave her a European continental look not uncommon among natives of the Iberian Peninsula. As her intensity rose, Bianca’s accent shifted toward romance languages until she broke into a full snarl with Spanish trills.
“Not everybody in the galaxy is Catholic,” Noah said. “We have to do business within their laws.”
“You have 4.2 million employees. Why our children?”
“They aren’t children. J.B. is thirty-one, Tyler twenty-six.” He thumbed at the horizontally displayed Jump Gate, which dominated the deck like a ship in a bottle. “We have a problem, Bee. They have skills ideally suited for the situation. And I trust them.”
“Including Tyler?”
“Especially Tyler.”
She stepped inside his personal space, so near her lilac scent filled his nostrils. Noah felt his blood stir when they stood so close. She seethed with anger, yet he longed to throw his wife on the floor and turn her rage into screams of delight. But those days happen too infrequently.
“Fine. Send the boys,” she said. “You don’t get Rosalie.”
He sighed. “Darling, you are the one who doesn’t get Rosalie. You never did.”
“Do you have a death wish? I can make it look like an accident.”
He smirked. “Where is the coy young innocente I married thirty-three years ago? My little Gatita.”
“She jumped off the coño train after pushing out your third child.”
Really? She still shrieks her orgasms whenever we—Damnit, she’s getting to me again. Noah shook off the madness and stepped away, ostensibly to look closer at his Jump Gate.
“Sending a Family delegation to the Rim is a business decision,” he said. “Nothing more.”
Bianca grabbed his shoulder, turning Noah sharply to face her. “Here’s a business decision—let me take a battle group to wait beyond Suryadivan space in case anything happens to our Family delegation.” She rubbed her arms and shivered inside the yellow jumpsuit. “It is muy frío in here. Have you stiffed the Energy Consortium again? They run the government, you know.”
He ignored the dig at his politics. He wanted to embrace her, warm his frosty wife with his passion. Maybe later.
“You know I can’t spare that many ships from convoy duty. How many commercial vessels did pirates attack last quarter?”
“Seventeen,” Bianca admitted.
“Seventeen ships. The bastards wait at remote Jump Gates to attack traders as they cross the event horizon. They’ve all but shut down shipping along the Jayendra corridor.”
“Then one ship—a battle-carrier.”
“Stop it!” Noah grabbed her elbows. “Quit thinking like a mother and be an admiral. I already have two cruisers and the Battleship Columbia protecting the Alpha Site. Any more is provocative. We need to earn the Suryadivans’ willing cooperation. That’s why I’m sending the next generation of the Family to represent us.”
She pulled away. “But why Rosalie? She’s an anthropologist.”
“An exo-anthropologist with a minor in diplomacy. Those expensive bio-implants I paid for give her fluency in multiple Suryadivan dialects,” Noah said. “She’s proven herself by field work. And she earned her star pilot’s license.”
“Bah! She can barely fly a shuttle around the traffic pattern. You have legions of social scientists, linguists, and pilots. Why my only daughter?”
“She has…other skills to support a deep space legal mission.”
“Rosalie is a true innocente. You want to send her into danger, and all I think about is singing ‘Besame Mucho’ to my little girl.” Bianca wrapped her arms around her waist. “Barry kicks into gear with pressure, and Tyler could sell icebergs to the Devil. But Rosalie…?”
Noah studied his wife’s face and decided Bianca didn’t need all the details. She was already mad at him. “Rosalie is vital to the mission. She’ll be okay.”
His wife’s eyes glistened, but no tears escaped. “She still calls me Mommy.”
“Trust me, Bee.”
“I don’t.” Without another word, she disappeared into the nearest turbo-lift, leaving him alone with his dark Jump Gate.
He strolled toward the left flank of the colossal device, suddenly aware of the crisp air. Cool temperatures in the hangar kept workers moving while reducing the chance of airborne pests defeating the bio-filters. He wanted time to think, let the cold clear his mind. But less than a minute later, his two sons emerged from an adjacent lift.
Tyler spoke first. “Damn it’s frigid. What’s the crisis, Dad? Energy Consortium cut your power ration again?”
Noah pointed up at the mammoth ring of exotic alloys, titanium steel, and state-of-the art circuitry that dominated the sprawling bay. “Designed for deep space. Cold is good.”
“Not for me.” Tyler rubbed his arms.
“Look at the thing,” Noah said. “No matter how many times I see an assembled Gate, I’m always amazed at this alien technology. It’s large enough to fit our biggest vessels, but if something larger approaches, the device auto-expands without losing function or increasing mass. After a century of reverse-engineering and studying the ancient design, my engineers still don’t understand how our working duplicates can do that, or several other equally perplexing operations.”
“Never seen one of these so close up,” Tyler said. “Well, I almost kissed Mr. Space Donut last weekend, but that wasn’t my fault, and the Rek Kett—”
“Your mother sent me a memo.”
“Mom tends to exaggerate. Did she mention the snake?”
“Shut up and listen.”
“Yes, sir,” J.B. said. Tyler did not respond.
Noah strolled along the prone Gate and leisurely observed the outfacing surface on his way around the dark metal circle. His sons mimicked the inspection tour.
“Your great-grandfather supervised a ten-year study of the ancient Gates and built the first new set by reverse-engineering. Starting with a jump point near Suter’s world, he planted the Gates at strategic locations throughout the Orion and Perseus Arms of the galaxy.”
“I know the history.” Tyler said. “The family patriarch single-handedly opened a new era of travel and communication, like the Autobahns did for Europe and Interstate Highways for North America back in the twentieth century. Blah-blah-hurrah.”
“It cost him his life.”
“I know, Dad.”
Noah folded his arms. “May I continue?”
“Look, I’m sorry about the attitude, but—”
“Work on it.” He took a moment to regain his thoughts. “The first T.N. Matthews envisioned a conduit for instantaneous travel across the Void to Andromeda. Operating from the basic design, he built a Supergate with special modifications for the increased distance and organized a mission to ferry the portal across the 2.5 million light-years between galaxies.”
“I don’t get his optimism,” Tyler said. “If he didn’t completely understand how the Gates work, how did he improve on them?”
“The science is beyond me. But our best engineers exhaustively studied his design and advised him the scaled-up replica would probably reach Andromeda.”
“Probably?” J.B. said.
Noah shrugged. “That’s why they call it venture capitalism.”
“You’re a riverboat gambler, Dad.” Tyler looked up at the edge of the round Gate. “Hanging here in your superhero cave, it makes me wonder if the ancient aliens had magic mirrors.”
“It was a lif
e-work for my grandfather, but he never lived to see it launched.”
“What really happened to great-grandpa?” Tyler said.
“Murdered during a robbery at Corporate HQ.” Noah took a breath. It’s hard to talk about this, but they need to hear it. “Never caught the killer."
“And that’s all we know, to this day?” Tyler said,
“Some crimes are never solved.” Noah continued his narration. “When I was a child, your grandfather, Tyler Noah Junior, worked out the final details with the governments involved. In 3053 he dispatched Admiral Yulia Markov with a fleet of ships—heavy construction vessels, force protection security, science and exploration vessels—to ferry the Andromeda Gate to its destination. They went to maximum FTL and entered the Void in cryogenic suspension. We assume Task Force Omega arrived last year, as scheduled.”
“Amazing accomplishment.” J.B.’s voice quivered. “Andromeda in fifty years.”
“If they arrived, reanimated, and got to work on schedule,” Noah said, “Jump Gate Omega should be in place. They’re a galaxy away, waiting for the designated moment to send the first signal across the Void to the Alpha Gate on the edge of the Milky Way.”
“Too bad Grandpa isn’t here to see if all that work was worthwhile,” Tyler said.
“My father was a visionary. It finally killed him.”
“He was trying to negotiate peace between—what two star nations?” J.B. said.
“Doesn’t matter. He got caught in the crossfire when one side ambushed the peace talks.” Noah sighed. “The Family has seen its share of tragedy.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” J.B. said.
Tyler brought the conversation back to the cold vault with its giant, floating ring. “So, how long will it take to get this Gate to the targeted location at our end?”
“You’re looking at the original prototype. The actual trans-galactic Gates are silver, not black, and already in place. Jump Gate Alpha will be ready when Omega goes green.”
Tyler chuckled. “Except the natives are getting restless at the Rim.”
“This isn’t funny, Tyler.” Noah clenched a fist, then let it go limp. He had never struck his children. Too late to start now. “The work of a century hangs in the balance. Not to mention the trillions of galactic credits the Family has spent to fund the project all these years.”
“Dad, I’ve never understood why this project is such a big deal to you,” Tyler said. “None of my uncles are aboard your wagon train to Andromeda. Uncle Charlie calls it a nutty idea.”
Noah smirked. “Charlie is a vagabond scoundrel who thinks hard work is a waste of good party time.”
“But Uncle Dennis said—”
“My brothers are wrong,” Noah snapped. “We need to expand. It’s the next logical step.”
Tyler looked up at the Gate. “There are over 200 billion stars in the Milky Way, most with planetary systems. Humans have explored—what?—eight percent of galactic space in the seven FTL centuries since Aurelio Lupetti in the Victoria. Why Andromeda now?”
“That’s actually a good question.” Noah felt some of his anger dissipate. He thought for a moment. “The short answer is that humanity lives by exploration. Without new frontiers, we stagnate.”
“Proverbs 29:18,” J.B. said. “Where there is no vision, the people perish.”
Tyler grumbled. “Yeah, but—”
“You still don’t get it?” Noah stabbed a finger at his youngest son. “If the Bible doesn’t inspire you, think about this. You have Lakota Sioux in your ancestry. When the first scouts walked onto the Great Plains and discovered a million galloping bison, what do you think they said?”
Tyler shrugged. “Run for your life?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Tyler!”
J.B. reached into the orange tote and retrieved his note pad. “So, what is our actual assignment?”
“No way.” Tyler faced his brother. “We’re not buying into his suicide run to the Rim. You know what kind of shit goes down out there. No wonder Mom wants to blast her way to Suryadivan Prime.”
“Mother is a bit trigger-happy.” J.B.’s face suddenly tightened. “Uh—that was not meant to go beyond this conversation.”
Noah nodded. “Let me finish briefing you. Then you can decide whether to join the legal expedition I’m mounting.”
“What legal expedition?” Tyler said.
“Litigation thinks we’ve got a good case for judicial relief from the Suryadivan contract default.” Noah pecked at the datacom. He wanted to cite precedents if Tyler suddenly turned into a lawyer again.
“So, send in your litigators.” Tyler crossed his arms.
“You both know contract law. You’re getting good performance reviews from your team leaders. Tyler, they tell me you’re an attack-dog in court.”
Tyler shook his head. “Specify, Dad. What do you want us to do?”
Well, well. A sniff of curiosity from the Wolf. “I want you to go to the Suryadivan homeworld, demand the right of legal reciprocity to practice in their courts, and sue those amphibious bastards for everything they’ve got. Force them to restore our easement.”
“Just a legal expedition? No saber-rattling required.”
“You have my word.”
“I want to talk with you alone.” He turned to his brother. “J.B., do you mind?”
“Well, actually, I would rather hear what’s happening.” He rubbed his forehead, pinching above the nose. “But if you think—”
“Thanks, Bro. I’ll brief you.” Tyler patted his shoulder. “Catch the lift. We’ll meet for lunch at the Mandarin.”
“Okay. I guess.”
His father caught J.B.’s arm. “Are you taking your medications, Son?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He released his grip. “Tyler will be right up. You have planning to do.”
“Yes, sir.”
Noah watched his older son slink away to the designated exit. “You shouldn’t treat the Bear so dismissively.”
“J.B. usually likes it when I take command.” He licked his lips. “Okay, Dad. Let me make this clear. I categorically reject this assignment.”
“What do you want, Ty?” He waited in the cool air of the hangar deck while his younger son considered a reply.
“Give me my trust fund while I’m young enough to enjoy it.”
Noah laughed, not humorously. “Forget it. You’re not getting the fatted calf, either.”
“Then I’ll settle for command of a starship.”
“Starship command is military leadership,” Noah countered. “You don’t qualify.”
“I did the required two years at Navy Prep before law school.”
“Math, science, and starship components. Theory, not practice.”
“That’s unfair. They taught us tactical weapons, interstellar navigation and helmsman duties. Starship operations from the cargo hold to the bridge. And you signed me up for advanced courses in weapons and combat tactics.”
“You have zero combat experience.”
“Aunt Violet runs a dojo to train senior commanders. I’ll learn.”
“Violet thinks you’re crazy. Besides, it’s too dangerous.”
“Looking out for me. Very paternal.”
“Not just you, smartass.” Tyler’s words cut Noah like a knife of ice, but he refused to show it. This was a business negotiation. “It’s too dangerous to send out a crew with an untrained, reckless commander who thinks he’s an ace because he blundered into a few tight spots and escaped by dumb luck.”
“Start me with a small ship. Corvette class.”
“You’re not starship captain material. You’re an attorney with decent potential,” Noah said. “Summa Cum Laude from the University of Missouri, not some diploma mill like Harvard or Yale.”
“You have a zoo full of Missouri Tigers on the prowl, licking at the scraps you drop.”
His father studied Tyler as if seeing him for the first time. “Why did you study law in the first pla
ce? Truthfully, no wisecracks.”
“Truthfully? Because of Uncle Dennis and Patrick Henry.” Tyler sat on the cold floor, legs crossed like a meditator. “I’ve always loved starflight. But growing up, Uncle Dennis encouraged J.B. and me to become lawyers, like him.”
Noah frowned. “Dennis works for the government, lecturing diplomats on interstellar law. No money in that.”
“Exactly. At first it didn’t sound like fun. Then I read Patrick Henry’s words, ‘Give me liberty, or give me death.’ Something clicked. Study law. Keep people free. But all I do at Corporate HQ is quash patent challenges and write contracts. May as well work for the limp-dick Terran Commonwealth with Uncle Dennis. I want to be out there, not stuck here in Kansas City.”
“One minute, you’re singing about the law. Next, it’s flying starships. What really is your dream, Tyler?”
“Can’t a man have two dreams?”
“No.”
Tyler snorted. “Well, that’s just rude.”
“Life is rude. I’m offering you a chance to make history.” Whenever he beheld his lanky younger son, Noah saw Bianca’s dark eyes and his great-grandmother’s golden hair. Half the time he wanted to smack him, half the time embrace him. He played it safe and did neither.
Tyler twirled his index finger like a whirligig. “Why me?”
“I need someone I can trust. I need the Family. I need you, Son.”
Tyler’s shoulders slumped. “Twenty-six years, you’ve never needed my help, and now you ask? Where were you the rest of my life?”
Noah stiffened like a boxer dazed by a left hook. “Do you expect me to apologize for the hard choices I’ve made?”
Tyler shook his head. “You never apologize.”
Noah harpooned him with a glare. “Dozens of stakeholders have built new merchant fleets to trade with Andromeda civilizations. If we can’t get the Alpha-Omega link online, look for widespread economic collapse. Corporations and star nations default on debts. Nasty, profit-motivated war will follow.”
“You’re seriously playing the doomsday card?”
Noah struggled to hold back tears. “I’ve dreamed about Andromeda all my life. The Family has worked over a century for this dream. You can make it happen.”
“J.B. and me. To the Rim. To secure the easement for Alpha Site.”
