Renegade Patriot

by Oscar Andrews

  Neffy was a night owl, no matter what planet he was on or what time zone he was in. Others around him got the impression that he just didn’t sleep, which wasn’t entirely true, it was just irregular, and generally between the early hours of pre-dawn and the later hours of mid-morning.

  It never seemed to cause a problem though; he was always operational when he needed to be.

  He stretched out across the soft white sheets, kicking the duvet from his legs to let the air cool him down. Yellow sunlight streamed into his sleep quarters, hailing a new day. He snapped his fingers and the nanosensors in his fingertips activated his hologram dashboard. He’d left a number of documents open, ready to have at it this morning. But first he needed macca.

  Peeling himself from the bed, he rolled over and stood up – his toes sinking into the soft poly-fiber flooring. It was specially designed for its soft texture on bare feet, and its antimicrobial and acoustic properties. He loved the sensation of walking over it. It was always warm to the touch in cold weather and cool in hot weather. This morning it had a welcome cooling effect as he buried his toes into it, just to enjoy the contrast a moment longer.

  Macca.

  He padded through the open-plan living area and into the kitchen. Ignoring the flashing macca-replicator, he decided to make the beverage fresh, by hand. He knew the replicator had its advantages, but it never tasted exactly like the real thing. His friends at the Academy used to tease him about his archaic ways. For someone so tech-conscious, he had his quirks.

  Reaching into the cupboard, he pulled out a jar of macca, spooning a couple of heaps into a mug. The malty-colored powder was deceptive. It looked like it might be sweet, and smelled divine, but mixed with ionized-water it underwent a chemical reaction that made it one of the planet’s strongest legal stimulants.

  He was hooked, even though the research suggested that it had a short half-life in the system and was completely safe. He was aware of what it did to his brain chemistry for those few hours, though. He’d developed a high degree of meta-cognition during his unconventional childhood.

  He pulled some hot water from the tap, straight into the mug, then waited for the flash of pink in the liquid to subside – watching the swirling pattern as the water mixed in and took full effect. He inhaled the sweetness of the warm moisture coming off the drink and raised the mug to his lips.

  Oh, sweet nectar, he thought to himself, running through the list of things he was grateful for. That list began with his morning cup of macca.

  Beep beep. Beep beep.

  The gentle, but persistent sound of the holo interrupted his morning thought-processing. Slightly annoyed, but trying to stay positive, he turned to the center of the kitchen and flicked his two forefingers to display the holo-dashboard in the middle of the island.

  Trent.

  He felt a mix of emotions, everything from professional respect to affection to a deep sense of inadequacy. Trent had practically raised him, but that didn’t make him a real father…nor did he act like one, though he had a frustrating way of hinting at paternal affection every now and then. Neffy always felt like he had to prove something he could never prove, earn something he could never earn, and then Trent would acknowledge him. He checked to make sure his clothing was appropriate for a holocall with his commanding officer – which is all Trent actually was. He had no doubt that his hair needed attention, but it probably wasn’t bad enough to make him look sloppy. Or unprofessional.

  He took a breath, calming his nerves, and then flicked his finger across the hologram’s answer button.

  Trent’s 3D image materialized in front of him, as he leaned against the kitchen counter, and sipped macca from his mug.

  “Good morning,” Trent’s voice filled his kitchen. Neffy waved his finger in the direction on the holo transmission to decrease the volume slightly as Trent continued, “I see I’ve caught you awake at an early hour.”

  Trent was well aware of Neffy’s sleep patterns. If anything, he had probably timed the call to catch Neffy while he was still asleep just to see whether he would take the call or ignore it. Neffy wondered if Trent ever wished his protege had the self-discipline to get up earlier.

  “I’m up,” Neffy declared, moving the mug of macca into view as if to prove he had been awake long enough to dose himself. It was a losing game, trying to meet Trent’s ambiguous standards.

  Trent nodded, mockingly acknowledging his “achievement”.

  “You’ve caught a case,” he continued with just a tiny hint of disapproval, “Looks like we’re potentially days away from an inter-colony crisis. As yet we have very little intel as to what could have caused such a disturbance, but it seems as though the Drewdonians are in the process of launching an attack on New Atlantia.”

  Straight to business, then.

  “Drewdonia?” Neffy asked, not quite understanding what a relatively new civilization would be doing launching any kind of assault on a colony so well-established and well-resourced as Atlantia.

  “It’s one of those new Kepler colonies, right?” he asked.

  Trent nodded. “Yes. I honestly have no idea why they would have anything to take up with the New Atlantians. Their primary concerns at this point in their development should be food, water, and effective governance, not questionable military adventures. They still have their hands full with basic terraforming. Be that as it may, we’ve had reports that a Class D starship left their orbit a week ago, with a full crew and fully armed. It’s an older vessel, and fairly slow, but they’ll be in orbit in New Atlantia in 48 hours. Within holo-messaging range in 24.”

  Neffy pulled up the map of the galaxy on a separate holo. He located Cygnus and turned the map 60 degrees down to bring its direction directly along his eye-line. He spread his fingers to zoom in and a dot labeled Kepler-186 appeared. Everyone on T3 had heard of this colony, and it had many trading relationships with other star systems. Not much was known about its social structures, as contact with the surface had been restricted until recently by the inhabitants themselves. One of the earlier worlds to be colonized after humankind had expanded to the stars some six centuries ago, and known to be a fairly advanced society if still somewhat basic by T3 standards. He wasn’t quite sure where to find Drewdonia, though.

  “What’s the Drewdonian star’s designation?” he asked Trent, placing his mug on the counter behind him, distantly aware that he hadn’t shaved in two days, and that the camera may have zoomed in on his face. He turned back to the screen, trying to focus on the job at hand, and hoping that the lens would readjust. He had no way of checking, though.

  Trent looked at his own holo report off-screen “Kepler-442.”

  “442…” Neffy repeated under his breath, as he initiated a search. The map froze, then jumped forward. 442 was in the next constellation over from T3: the Lyra constellation.

  Hmm, he mused to himself.

  “I’d like you to handle this one, Neffy,” Trent told him, “You need to find out what is going on and what the motives are behind the attack. Avert any potential conflict. We can’t have new colonies suddenly destroying themselves for no real reason. We invest too much in the colonization process, and these guys are first-generation for the most part. They should know better. If there is a problem with the settlement process, we need to know about that, too. Discreetly.”

  Neffy nodded, intrigued by the strange events and the new challenge. Just behind those initial thoughts lurked musings about how much he’d like to prove himself to Trent. If Neffy could wrap this one up quickly and easily, perhaps Trent would trust him enough to confide in him more, to act like their lifelong connection actually meant something.

  He pushed the thought out of his head. He knew he was probably just setting himself up for disappointment.

  Trent was still talking.

  “I don’t need to remind you that even a single conflict in one place sets an example of conflict in the collective unconscious, as well as infecting the Federation with behavior models th
at we’ve largely managed to eliminate. This is something we don’t want any other colonies modeling.”

  Neffy bookmarked the map on his holo render for easy reference later.

  Trent continued, “Your task is to land on New Atlantia and meet with their leader. See what you can find out about the nature of the conflict. At all costs you need to keep this from becoming a full-scale shooting war. Drewdonia doesn’t have the spare resources to have one of their ships and crew blown to pieces over something stupid.”

  “Got it,” Neffy confirmed, wondering if this conversation was going to be all business, or whether Trent was going to ask how he was. Either way, he’d follow his mentor’s lead.

  “You’ll be taking Ally, I assume?” Trent asked, his voice softening somewhat.

  Neffy nodded. “Of course. I’ll holo her in a moment.”

  “Good.”” Trent hesitated, as if he had something else to say, and then seemed to change his mind. “Stay safe out there, Neffy. You’re heading straight into a conflict environment. This isn’t a simulation. You fuck up, you get dead. Do you understand?”

  Neffy nodded again, wondering if the man’s concern was anything more than professional.

  “Keep me posted,” He nodded his goodbye, and Neffy responded with a wave.

  He smiled as the connection faded, leaving the blank holo dashboard hovering in mid-air. Neffy swept it away with a pointed finger, then remembered he had one more thing to do first and opened it up again.

  Ally. He needed to let Ally know they had a mission.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Neffy was in work mode now. Flying to the Federation carport, just outside Reykjavik, Iceland, he replayed the conversation he’d had with Trent just hours before.

  It was the first time in weeks that he’d headed out this way. He tried to give himself rest-weeks, but being a freelancer, and obsessed with his work, it wasn’t something that was easily regulated. The enforced rest of the last few weeks had probably done him some good.

  This route to the T3 Federation HQ was an anchor in his mind, though. An anchor to start thinking in the right way. Start risk-assessing. To start thinking about combinations and alternative scenarios of what might transpire once he made contact with the main actors in the conflict. Plays and counter-plays. That was what made him the best. The unrelenting analysis. The pivoting. The testing, measuring, and gathering of data.

  And he really was the best.

  This was what he had been trained for. Programmed for. Groomed for.

  He locked on to the carport with the onboard Navigation system. It gave a live view of the place from one of the viewer feeds. It looked a bit busy, but nothing that would slow their departure off-planet. He zoomed out, checking the acres of snowy land.

  This area had once been a port for aircraft, before the widespread use of personal flying vehicles. Neffy was frequently struck with awe by the layers of history all around him. Most planets just didn’t have that. Compared with T3, they were still brand new. Even the oldest colonies were only about 600 years old. Yet most folks here seemed oblivious, unaffected by the ghosts all around them. But then, how were they to know? The only reason he was aware was because Trent had sent him a history viewer for his tenth birthday. Neffy’s father had been a history buff, which was why he was named after an ancient queen: Nefertiti, back when T3 was known more poetically as Earth. The viewer allowed him to select the place he was standing and view images of it from different time periods, almost as if he was traveling back in time. It could keep him amused for hours.

  It was also likely the reason he graduated top of his class in his arch-anthropology degree.

  Clicking the car into auto mode, he trusted it to negotiate the snow-covered glaciers just feet above the land, over to the carport where he’d meet Ally. He’d plot a flight plan off-world once they were both on board. It would take nearly an hour to get to a latitude where they could bounce out of orbit easily. This way meant he had a few minutes before he would have company. He clicked on the holo.

  “Call Mom,” he commanded.

  The holo materialized a blank screen with the word Connecting.

  A few moments later, his mother’s face appeared on the holo screen in front of him.

  “Hi Mom,” Neffy said.

  She smiled in her strangely formal way, “Nefertiti, darling. It’s been too long.”

  “I’m heading off-world for a bit, but I wanted to call before I left.” Neffy found it difficult to talk to his mother. Diane Klingerman suspected that he deliberately called when he only had a few moments, giving him a legitimate reason to keep the call brief.

  Neffy was trying to make an effort, but he could hear the coldness in his own voice.

  “It’s good to hear from you, Neffy. How have you been?” His mother’s voice always held some hint of guilt and unmet expectations. Neffy noticed the irony in the role-reversal. No doubt his mom had been reminiscing about when he was a baby. She did that, now that she was retired and didn't have her work to keep her constantly occupied.

  “I’m fine,” Neffy answered, “Just busy. Seems there is a lot going on with all these new colonies the Federation is rolling out.” He couldn’t say too much – there were about twenty colony systems in total, so any detail could give away too much about where he was going. His security clearance was almost as high as you could get even as an Independent. He was just bad at remembering what was classified and what was common knowledge, so he opted for the easy option of barely talking about anything, particularly when it came to topics on which he might have some inside knowledge.

  His mother would have understood that. She had been a test pilot for the Federation, and would have worked on many of the space vehicles that were still in use around the galaxy today. Heck, she had probably helped develop the one he was sitting in right now.

  “Yes. You always seem to be busy,” his mother responded, clearly angling for more contact.

  Neffy changed the topic. “Anyway, I’ve got to pick up Ally in a moment. Just thought I’d check in.”

  His mother frowned. “I never see you…”

  “You can see me now, Mom,” Neffy exclaimed, a little irritated, as he glared at the image of his mother in front of him. He sometimes forgot the holo was simply that – a hologram. The images were so realistic it was almost like being in the room with the person you were talking to – even if they were a little translucent, “I’m leaving now. I have to be out of orbit in just a minute here.”

  It was true, at least. He was on a deadline, and if there was a risk of a shooting war then lives were at stake. He’d become so accustomed to the high stakes in his time working with the Peace Task Force that it often felt like just another day. Either he was used to it, or the Academy had rewired any anxiety he might have otherwise experienced.

  “Why don’t you pop over when you get back then? I’ll make a vegetable lasagna. That was always your favorite, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Klingerman was guessing, since she hadn’t actually eaten with her son in years.

  Diane knew from the contacts she still had with the Federation that Neffy’s work kept him bouncing around the galaxy, but that he was stationed mostly on T3 – between the Icelandic branch, the Academy in Vienna, and the research labs in Thailand. But since her retirement as a Squad Leader it was increasingly difficult to get intel on his whereabouts. More and more she was told that the operations Neffy was involved in were need-to-know.

  He was serving the Federation, at least. That was something.

  “Yeah, maybe when I get back,” Neffy said, a little breezily. He knew he was lying, and he could tell from his own tone of voice that it wasn’t even a believable lie. She would probably interpret it as sarcastic. That wasn’t his intention, but the discomfort of the whole conversation was bringing out the worst in him.

  He wasn’t trying to be cruel, but the pain of what she had done to him was not going to be healed by a vegetable lasagna. Having dinner with her would only remind him of things he did
n’t want to think about. She had left him at that lab, knowing the doctors intended to subject him to years of strange experiments.

  She’s lucky to get a holocall. That’s as far as I can stretch, Neffy told himself. His therapist supported that decision. Although it was Federation policy to push for full reconciliation, something had told Dr. Pickman that this was just beyond the realm of possibility in Neffy’s case.

  His mother was not going to be discouraged so easily. “Neffy, I’m serious. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  “I’ve got to go, Mom. I’ll contact you when I get back.” He didn’t wait for a response. He clicked off the holo with a twitch of his index finger.

  +++

  Carport, Reykjavik, T3

  Ally was waiting in the carport, her eyes scanning the horizon from left to right for any sign of Neffy’s car. She genuinely missed him, despite everything weighing on her mind. Her holo buzzed, distracting her. She glanced down and checked it quickly.

  UNKNOWN: I need not remind you of what will happen if you break any of the rules.

  Ally paused, contemplating her answer. A group of new agents stood a few meters away, chattering and laughing. Cars were docking and taking off, all around the front of the building, the bright sunlight glinting off their shiny metal surfaces. Everything seemed so normal, but as Ally stood there messaging back and forth on the e-DNA device through her holoscreen, everything was far from normal. Her world had looked so different a matter of weeks ago, and now, faced with a terrible task, and an even worse decision, she was beside herself with worry.

  Neffy would be there any second, which only heightened her anxiety. She needed this conversation to be concluded before she got into the car, or else Neffy would start asking questions. She keyed in a response quickly.