The Gate

by Finn Gray

  “How far to the Stone Mountain base?” she asked.

  “Probably a couple of days. Due more to the terrain than the distance.” Trent gazed out into the jungle, as if she could see through the dense tangle of growth. “There’s no guarantee we’ll find anyone alive there.” She emphasized the word “anyone,” underscored it with a knowing glance.

  Cassidy felt a lump form in her throat. Marson had told them Rory was dead, but she wanted to see for herself. It was stupid for a few reasons, not the least of which was the fact he had fallen for that ginger milksop Jemma, who also happened to be a Memnon. Still, Rory had been her friend from the first day of training. She had to know.

  They moved along in near silence. Their boots on the soft earth made little sound. Only the whine of insects and the occasional rustle of the treetops, nudged by the scant breeze. Cassidy hoped, prayed even, that they would encounter some surviving Memnons. It had been days since the uprising began and she had been stuck inside a crashed transport, nursing a sprained ankle. Her world had been destroyed, her family surely dead, and her best friend probably lost, too. She needed an outlet for her rage.

  “You are stretched taut like piano wire,” Trent said. “And if you don’t get control of yourself, I’m going to take your weapons from you.”

  “Yes, Sergeant.” Cassidy knew Trent was correct. And, as much as she hated to admit it, the veteran would likely have little trouble disarming her if she so desired.

  Trying to get her mind off of things, Cassidy let slip the question that had been bothering her.

  “Why do you think the Memnons allowed you to leave the base?” Cassidy tensed. She genuinely did not believe Trent was a Memnon, but she wanted to understand.

  Trent halted, whirled around. Anger flared in her blue eyes and it was all Cassidy could do to hold her ground and return the glare in kind. And then the air seemed to go out of the sergeant. Her shoulders sagged and she closed her eyes.

  “I had a very brief, very intense fling with a general. He ended things abruptly and handed me my new orders in the same breath. Had me off the base within hours.”

  Cassidy blinked, unable to reply. Try as she might, she could not imagine Trent, who was built like a professional mayall player, engaged in a passionate love affair. She was hard as a rock.

  “I just figured he didn’t want to see my face anymore,” Trent said. “And obviously I never spoke of the base, and not only because it was classified. My service record was altered to say I’d been on leave for personal reasons, and that’s the story I stuck to.”

  Cassidy wasn’t the warm, fuzzy type, especially around other women, and she knew Trent wasn’t either, but she felt she had to say something.

  “It sounds to me like he really cared about you, so he got you the hells out of there before you got trapped there for the rest of your life.”

  Trent nodded but did not reply.

  “Is that why you don’t want to go to the base? You don’t want to know for sure that he’s dead?”

  Trent’s head jerked up and she fixed Cassidy with a puzzled frown.

  “That’s not it. I just don’t like facing the fact that he was a Memnon.” She turned and resumed walking.

  “How can you know that for sure?” Cassidy asked, quickening her pace.

  “He ran the whole damned show. How could he have risen so high if he wasn’t one of them?”

  The final piece fell into place for Cassidy. She knew how Trent’s story would be interpreted by the brass. They would think her a Memnon sleeper agent who had not rescued her squad members from the Memnons, but had deceived them into coming with her to the secret base operated by her lover.

  “Gods, Sergeant, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then don’t. One of the things I like about you is that you mostly keep your mouth shut.” She flashed a glance back over her shoulder. “Except when you’re ranting about how unfair society is to your class.”

  Cassidy was about to retort, but Trent suddenly said, “Get down!”

  That was the sort of order Cassidy had been conditioned to obey immediately. She hit the deck, and landed face-first in a mushy, foul-smelling fungi. She let out a low moan of disgust and wiped the gunk from her face. It was jaundiced yellow in color and reminded her of the time she had fed her baby nephew too many bananas. The stuff had come out both ends and it had been left to her, the sitter, to clean him up. A lump formed in her throat at the memory. Was anyone in her family still alive?

  “Don’t move,” Trent said softly.

  “What is it?”

  “Look to my ten,” she pointed off to the left where the jungle thinned out. “There’s a ridge up there and I saw someone moving.”

  “Memnons?” she asked.

  Trent shrugged. “Who else? If they’re armed with rifles, they’ll have us at a major disadvantage.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  Trent pursed her lips. Her eyes went cloudy for a moment and then the turned a sharp gaze on Cassidy.

  “I say we follow them and see where they go. If they’re Memnons who survived the destruction of the base, odds are they’ll lead us somewhere interesting.”

  Cassidy nodded. “I like the way you think, Sergeant.”

  Chapter 6

  Battlecruiser Dragonfly

  Lina managed a tight smile as she looked around Dragonfly’s briefing room. The faces that looked back at her were expectant, some of them hopeful, even. That was a good sign.

  From the survivors among the fleet, she had managed to pull together a cohort of respected leaders hailing from every nation of Aquaria. Not all of them were public servants—most had never held an office of any kind. They were scientists, entrepreneurs, writers, as well as a few service veterans, public and military. What they had in common is they were people whom the public generally trusted. She had even made certain that as many of the Hyperians as possible also had strong ties to Thetis as well. That undercurrent was always there.

  She consulted her biowatch. One minute to go. She called up the list of invitees on the tablet and ran through the names. Of the nineteen who had accepted her invitation, eighteen were present. Only one of the representatives from Vatome, Lina’s own home nation, was missing.

  Whispers suddenly rippled through the room. Lina looked up to see her twin sister, Valeria, enter the room, flanked by a pair of marines. Val saw the look of surprise on Lina’s face and flashed a triumphant smile.

  “Welcome,” Lina said, keeping her tone steady.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Val said, taking the seat at the far end of the long conference table. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react to my presence, seeing how I wasn’t invited or even notified of this gathering.”

  Lina was determined not to let Val throw her off course.

  “I am surprised and pleased that you’re finally showing an interest in serving the public. I have no doubt you will learn a great deal.”

  Trevon Lincoln, a popular satirist and frequent guest on political talk shows, smirked and turned his head.

  The dig bounced off of Val, who smiled sweetly and said, “Professor Chen decided that he is too infirm to fulfill his duties, so he asked me to serve in his place. Now that I’m here, you may begin.”

  Lina wanted to punch her. She was trying to establish a framework for the creation of a new government, yet Val was treating those assembled to a stereotypical exchange between the “Empire Twins,” a cynical moniker that had followed them all their lives.

  Don’t let her ruffle your feathers.

  “Thank you all for coming on such short notice and in the wake of such traumatic events. We are all in shock and pain, and I realize that it’s no small thing to ask you to set that grief aside in order to be here today.”

  “Are we planning a counterattack?” Hiroko Matsui was nearing ninety years of age. Her hair was snow white and thinning, her body frail, but the retired Naval officer still had the gravitas to command a room.

  “That’
s not why we are here today,” Lina said.

  “Of course not,” Matsui said. “I only wondered if we have a plan yet.”

  “Not that I can divulge.”

  Down at the end of the table, Val leaned over and whispered something in the ear of the man seated next to her—a handsome man with short, brown hair and a neatly-trimmed beard. Victor Lloris was the popular ex-governor of one of the Thetan provinces. After Val finished whispering, Lloris nodded, then spoke up.

  “It concerns me that there are only two Thetans on this panel.”

  “No one is here as an official representative of any nation,” Lina said.

  “But Thetis has a greater population than Norwind and Echota combined, yet they each have as many representatives as we do.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think any nation can make definitive claims about the size of its population. Not anymore.” The room fell silent. “The Memnons have turned our home planets into a nuclear wasteland. Those who survived the uprising probably don’t have long to live.”

  “Harsh,” Val whispered, just loud enough for Lina to hear her.

  “You’re right. It is harsh, and it’s the truth. We are now living in a new world and I need all of you to help mold it.” A hushed, reflective silence fell across those assembled. Lina seized the moment. “There is a strong possibility that we will be living on these ships for a very long time. The shock of the Memnon attack will soon wear off and we’re going to have a wealth of challenges to face as people simply attempt to go on with their everyday lives.”

  Around the table, heads began to nod.

  Lina started to relax. Even among this hand-picked group, she had feared they wouldn’t take her seriously.

  “She’s right,” Val said. “People need permanent living arrangements that make sense. They need daily routines. The children need to continue their education. Those and countless other things.”

  Perhaps Lina ought to have been grateful for the support, but she knew what her sister was up to. Val had recognized that Lina’s words had resonated with the assembly. Val needed to score a few points of her own. Lina wasn’t the only young woman in this room who was tired of not being taken seriously because of her relative youth. She wished she knew what Val was up to.

  “Many people are stuck on vessels that are designed for short-term travel,” Lincoln said. “Admittedly, I’m one of them. I’m fine for now, but it does need to be addressed. People are already growing impatient.”

  “And what about law enforcement?” asked Lloris. “The large ships, the ones who are packed to the gills with whatever refugees they could save, are having problems.”

  “Those are exactly the sorts of things that need to be addressed with all due haste. In short, we need to get a civilian government up and functioning before the military fills the void entirely.”

  Matsui raised her head and Lina tensed.

  “She is correct,” Matsui said. “There are some things the armed forces are neither equipped nor intended to do.”

  Some nodded, others frowned. Most simply met her gaze with blank stares.

  “How do you propose we begin?” Lincoln asked.

  “I suggest that this body serves as an interim senate so that we may immediately begin addressing the problems that we’ve touched on as well as the many others that are going to arise. The secondary purpose will be to create a framework for government and schedule elections.”

  “We should announce the election dates right away,” Lincoln said. “We don’t want civilians to think we’re seizing power.”

  “Agreed.” Lina said.

  “Are you proposing yourself as head of government?” Lloris asked.

  Before Lina could reply, Matsui spoke up. “In a time of crisis, the appearance of stability is critical. Having an empress on the throne and a senate in place will have a calming effect.”

  Lina suddenly realized she had been holding her breath. Matsui held a great deal of sway, and her conservatism was a two-edged sword. This time, she had swung it Lina’s way.

  “Isn’t she already the empress?” asked Edward Leaphorn, a popular Echotan who’d served a single term in the senate years ago, then resigned to return to the field of medicine, where his real passion lay. “As the eldest, didn’t the crown automatically pass to her?”

  “There was a problem with my swearing-in.” Lina resisted the urge to look at Val, who had been the one to make an issue of that technicality. “It’s required that a member of the senate bear witness. And there are no surviving senators in the fleet.”

  Heart racing, she waited for someone to speak.

  “If that’s what’s stopping us from getting down to some real work, I say we take care of it right now.” Matsui stood. Though her body was frail, she could still dominate a room through sheer force of personality. “Sister Mikhor over there is a priestess.” She nodded at the woman seated across the table from her. “We can call bear witness. That is, if we are in agreement that we are, indeed, the interim senate?” She looked around, met every person’s gaze. One by one they nodded their assent, even Val.

  Lloris stood, a much less impressive sight. “Acknowledging the gravity of this situation and the critical nature of our current situation, I reluctantly …”

  “For the gods’ sakes, Lloris, no one is recording this for posterity,” Matsui said. “Motion to form an interim senate for a term not to exceed half a cycle.”

  “Seconded,” Val said quickly. Trying to score another point.

  “All in favor?” Lloris said.

  The vote was unanimous.

  Matsui gave a single nod of approval and sat down. “Now, let’s get on with the swearing in.”

  “I don’t think it should be done in secret,” Val said. “This is in important symbolic event. We need to let the people be a part of it. Let them see that we refuse to be broken.”

  “So, a broadcast?” Lincoln asked.

  “Yes.” Now it was Val’s turn to stand. “I know my reputation—I’m a socializer and a party girl. A spoiled Empire Twin.” No one cracked a smile. “Think of me what you will, but if there is one thing I understand it’s the value of the public nets and how they can be used to shape opinions, motivate them to action, or to calm the masses. It’s also essential for a free press, which is something else we need.”

  “An imperial coronation ceremony has always been a once-in-a-lifetime event for most Aquarians. They should be able to see it where possible, or at least listen to it live,” Lloris said.

  Heat prickled the back of Lina’s neck. She understood Val’s game now. Val could not seize the throne, but if she controlled the flow of information to the civilians in the fleet, she would be a powerful woman indeed. Lina thought fast. How to keep it out of Val’s hands?

  “Mister Lincoln, you have broadcast experience. Would you be willing to take on the task of setting up the public nets and organizing a press corps?” Lina asked.

  “I’d be honored to serve, Highness, but I fear it’s too great a task for me alone.” Lincoln turned and looked in Val’s direction. “Perhaps Her Highness would be amenable to heading it up jointly?”

  Lina saw a flash of triumph in Val’s eyes. Gods, had she orchestrated this whole thing? It was so painfully obvious that Lloris was under her spell. But had she predicted Lina’s choice of Lincoln and already sunk her fangs into him, too? If so, the bitch had worked fast. Lina could not think of anything she could do to stop it now.

  “I’d be honored,” Val said. “But please, if everyone could just address me as Senator Navarre? I actually think I like that title better.” She laughed and the others joined in. Already she was beginning to win them over.

  Isn’t that the story of my life? Lina thought. I do all the work, take everything seriously, but people love her better. They just can’t help it.

  Chapter 7

  Battlecruiser Kestrel

  Tom Marson lay on a top bunk, gazing up at the ceiling and listening to the chatter of his squadm
ates. It was funny. Less than two days ago he had saved their asses, but they did not seem to like him any better now than they had before. All they seemed to care about was Rory Waring. Hells, they had loved him before. Now that he was a martyr, they’d probably elevate him to god status.

  “How long are they going to keep us down here?” Sid Crane said for what must have been the twentieth time. Crane’s mood was as dark as his complexion. He and Waring had been close, and the loss of his friend pained him.

  “Yeah, they’ve interrogated us, I’m sure they’ve checked our records. What’s the delay?” Samira Monk said.

  Eric “Snowman” Jones, a pale, blond giant from Norwind, cleared his throat. “We know what the problem is. Since we arrived with the people from Stone Mountain base, we’re now under suspicion.” He flashed a glance in Marson’s direction.

  Marson gritted his teeth. And there it was. When it all came down to it, it was his fault. None of them had said that aloud, of course. Snowman had even said he would have done the same thing, but something in his tone made Marson doubt it.

  “At least we got to shower and change into clean skivvies,” Monk said. “Snowman was beginning to stink.”

  Marson could not disagree. They hadn’t had a chance to bathe since the uprising had begun. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Scrubbing away several days of grime and donning one of the clean jumpsuits provided by their hosts had briefly cheered him up, but the gloom had returned quickly.

  “They kept throwing in questions about that damned base, trying to catch me off guard. Like I was going to let something slip,” Sid complained. “I told them, Marson’s the only one of us who has been there.”

  “Same here,” Monk said.

  Marson’s anger flared. He hopped down from his bunk, landing with a hard thud. “I seem to recall being ordered to go to that base and return with help. I followed orders and I almost died doing it.”

  “No, Rory was the one who died,” Crane said, looking down at the floor.

  Once again, the only thing they cared about was Waring. “Ungrateful bastards, every one of you. What about Peyton? She saved our asses, too, and not one of you has asked how she’s doing.”