Transterran Gambit

What am I worried about? They’re never gonna see me coming. A flask full of Centauri Brandy floated above the instrument panel. He’d found it in the base exchange at TOC McGuire. It was emblazoned with the symbol of Space Command on the front. He collected the flask and stowed it in the net bag between his legs. He’d have to wait until he got back to the ship to get a proper “welcome home” on. The top of the canopy was so close that removing his helmet was impossibility.

Jena’s picture floated free, dancing around his helmet in zero-g. She’d given him one picture to hang in the crew quarters, another to hang in the cockpit, this one classified- “eyes only,” a topless secret that she’d willingly shared. He smiled at her as she spun by. “Just wait until we get to Pax. You’re never going to want to leave. If heaven had a beach, this place would be it. The temperature never changes, most of the settlements are underwater. All you have to do is lay back and watch the solar collectors turn.”

An alert signal from the instrument panel disturbed his reverie. He swept the monocle around until he saw something bracketed in red… then several more brackets appeared. He lowered his hands to the controls and angled away from them. Hurricane touched the icon for the mission commander, Captain Groover.

“Trailblazer to Trailboss, I’m passing through a minefield, distance… two AU’s from target, over.” He said but expected no response. Ranger wouldn’t give her position away unless necessary. The torpedo-laden attack craft following behind him would not be as nimble. He set the responsive systems to “anti-collision” and allowed the fighter to carry him through the field.

"Tallyho!" Someone called out. "I got contact… eighty thousand kilometers; it looks like a system defense boat. She's turning toward us." Hurricane expanded the display to show what his sensors were picking up at maximum range and there it was, a contact tagged in red labeled "A-01."

"Trailboss to Trailblazer," Hurricane heard Groover say over the radio, calling for him by his mission designation. “Make best speed for target area. We need some eyes on, over.”

Hurricane programmed a new burn schedule into Thunderbird’s computer. Two extended firings on the way in, a gravity boost from the gas giant, Delta Pavonis-5, another firing on his way out, with enough fuel left over to find the Ranger. He tightened down his four point harness as the prime display flashed “00:20” twice in red and started counting down.

“Express Four to Trailboss, I have weapons lock, over.” Some A-26 pilot called. Ajax looked down at the plot and saw a spot moving away from the Torpedo-3 (Express) formation. The last fragment of the call was distorted by static. Skyfall was already in action, jamming the E-Con, waiting for the word to set off an EMP. The blast would disable the boat but alert the station.

“Trailboss to Express Four. Check your fire. Save it for the depot, over.”

Hurricane put his head back against the acceleration couch as the audio pre-firing alert started peeping. He felt the vibration of the fuel pumps just before the RUSH lit.

***

Sol-5/ Jupiter

“We acknowledge that our schedules have lapsed but we explained the circumstances to the last adjutant that Fleet sent. Admiral Hagan was made fully aware of everything happening and gave us fair latitude.”

The meeting room was on the rim of the Free Callisto administrative spindle so there was gravity. She wore her duty jacket over her light pressure suit to provide extra warmth. There was a single comfortable chair and a writing desk. Four screens were mounted on the bulkheads around the desk. The faces of the Free Callisto shipyard directors were on-screen when she came in.

“Admiral Hagan is no longer in command and his replacement points out that you were paid in full for the production cycle. This lapse in adherence to your delivery schedule is inexcusable. A formal complaint is already being drafted. We were supposed to have Tigerwolf and nine other ships ready for transfer to the United Space shipyards for final outfitting, yet we only have Tigerwolf. This, gentlemen, is a breach of the contract between my government and this company. You will deliver the complete production run within ninety days or the contract will be voided.”

The directors were in communication from the surface of Callisto. The face on the largest screen was the most senior. “We’ve lost entire crews to this plague. They refuse to leave their work shuttles. They cannot bear the thought of any kind of EVA… people who have done this a thousand times before. It’s madness.”

“Your problem, director, not my governments. You have our terms. If we don’t have our ships ready to go in ninety days, we will pull out every credit of funding that hasn’t already been used in construction and take what you’ve got to United Space. Your failure will be considered when we offer other contracts.”

“Then do something about the damned Serenity that’s been flooding Sol system!”

Jena paused. “Hire more motivated workers who don’t use it.”

“There aren’t any. The ones we found are the skeleton shifts working around the clock on Bellapheron,” The director said. “We’re paying retirees to come back but it’s not enough. United Space is having the same problem. Everyone is… and not just in Sol system.”

“I’m not here to have an economics discussion,” Jena hissed. “Your bid for our contract was accepted. Your responsibilities included provision of all necessary parts and labor. You’ve been paid in advance for your work and for the unforeseen expenses. I’m not here for a debate, or excuses, or anything else except the ships you agreed to build for us… and if you can’t do it, we will.”

“What do you mean?”

Jena set her jaw and said, “I’m recommending to my superiors that the shipyard be taken under national control. We can fill your manpower shortages with military personnel, at least to some extent, which will get us the equipment we need faster.”

“You can’t. We object.”

“Sol system is under a special condition alert right now. We’ll do what we need to. Although I’m sure nationalization of your shipyard would only take place under the most extreme circumstances, the fact remains that you have ninety days to improve relations with us. Good day.” She turned on her heel. As the door to the conference room slide closed behind her, she heard one of them mutter a disparaging term that had disappeared into memories of Old Earth.

“Dyke.”

***

Sol-3/ Mars

Tali woke in a sweat but with a smile. She pulled the pillow out from under her head and pressed it to her face to stifle a happy shriek.

“You and your dreams,” Gabrielle sighed and pushed her over, draping an arm over Tali’s naked hips. “Everyone should have such things, yes?”

“I’m sorry, Gabrielle, I know I always wake you.”

“No better excuse for tia’freya.” Gabrielle said softly and planted a kiss on Tali’s neck. “Everyone likes tia’freya, yes?”

“Is that all you ever think about?” Tali murmured and moaned as Gabrielle found a ticklish spot. Tia’ freya was Martian for “morning love.”

“Not always,” Gabrielle said and planted another kiss. “Sometimes I think about all the ways I love my little Earth-girl and it makes me so happy.”

“And I love my Gabi,” She said and threw the covers off. She climbed out of their bed and found a t-shirt in a pile of clean laundry. “Did you check messages when you came home?”

Gabrielle groaned and waved a hand toward the vid-com. She pulled the covers up and turned on her side as Tali sat in front of the device and entered her personal password. There was a message from HQ CINC-SOL tagged as “Urgent.” She touched on the icon next to the message header and waited for it to open. Tali felt a tingle race down her spine as she read down the text.

“Baby, I’m going to Jupiter!” Tali said and sprang away from the com-station. She burrowed under the covers until she found Gabrielle. “They’re giving me a carrier.”

Gabrielle sighed and said, “You… always in such hurries to go places, yes? I hope you find whatever it is out there you want so badly.”

“Gabi, don’t be angry,” Tali said and wrapped her arms around her girlfriends unresisting form. “We knew this was going to happen. You said you were OK with it.”

“It never helps when the time comes.”

“Don’t make this hard for me, baby,” Tali fairly begged and squeezed tighter. “Please? You know I love you but this is what I’ve trained to do… this is what I have to do. It’s not like I can refuse to go.”

Gabrielle sighed and said, “I know you. You would not refuse even if you had the chance to. You have too much adventure inside you. To stay here with me would be slow death for you. That much we can agree on, yes?”

“We can still have fun,” Tali said. “I’ll come find you when I get back and we can catch up. It’ll be great.”

“You sailors with a girl in every port,” Gabrielle said as a small grin came over her face. She’d endured this kind of separation before and had no tears left. “If I’m not too old when you come back, come and find me.”

***

Sol-8/ Neptune

Leda sat at a desk in the makeshift “classroom” they’d set up next to the shuttle bay that the Xenos entered and exited the installation through. She was studying holoforms of alien symbols, listening to the mental voiceover provided by the attendant Xeno. So far she’d deciphered 86 of the symbols in the Xeno written code.

A raised bar with construction symbol- construction has approved. Two raised bars with construction symbol- construction has begun. Three raised bars with construction symbol- construction has been completed.

It stopped communicating to allow her time to absorb what had just been imparted. She checked the Krono she’d borrowed from Weston. It was late, much later than the Xeno usually stayed, Leda looked up to find it watching her, though without any obvious eyes it was difficult to tell, she felt like it was. The Xeno moved for the exit when she shut off the holoform projector.

“Wait,” Leda said and the thing stopped. “I want to ask you something.”

Ask.

“Why us?” She said. “I mean, there are so many stars out there, why did you bring us your gift? Why not another race more deserving than us? We can barely keep ourselves from each other’s throats. In terms of evolution, our civilization is nothing compared to yours.”

Our civ-il-i-za-tion has ris-en and fall-en many times. All for the bridge. All be-cause of the bridge. We have fall-en again. The bridge must con-tin-ue, even if we can-not rise again. You are ris-ing.

“Your people have been watching us?”

For a short time on-ly. At first we were not look-ing.

Leda opened her mouth to offer another question but stopped with the Xeno started moving again. The impression she got was that it had given her too much.

There were several groups of officials and consultants waiting for her when she emerged, bleary-eyed, to deliver the completed days’ work, two complete deciphered symbols. The TerraCom delegation was made up of five people and were, in her estimation, the most overbearing. She hated speaking to them because they made her feel like someone collaborating with an enemy. Only the presence of the group from TIL, handpicked by Artemis Cutter himself, softened the hard edge she felt in dealing with the rest.

“Have you noticed a specific trend in what they’re teaching you?” The Outworld Alliance group asked when she indicated her readiness for their questions.

“They seem to be really pushing the symbols they use in construction,” Leda said and accepted a fortified water ration from the TIL crew. “That tells me that they’re serious about helping us build one of their bridges. They want to teach us how to read their plans.”

“Have they told you when to expect more of them to arrive?” The TerraCom group asked, undoubtedly prompted by the two military officers standing among them.

“No. The only say that they expect more,” Leda said and rubbed her temples. “Keep in mind that they’ve been persecuted enough to seek shelter from us. What happens when these other forces arrive can only be speculated at.”

“What kind of weapons do they have?” SOLCorp asked.

“I don’t know,” Leda said and let her hands drop. “It hasn’t been discussed.”

“Prudence demands that you take it up with them next time you’re together,” TerraCom added in. “The security of Sol system is in jeopardy because of them and you’re wasting valuable time learning how to build Tonka-toys.”

“I’d hardly call the starbridge a toy,” Leda said as exhaustion rolled over her in waves. She was tired of being the only link between two species, tired of TerraCom’s criticisms, tired of doubt, tired of fear. “This has the potential to revolutionize interstellar travel as we know it. This has the potential to take us places we would need a dozen lifetimes to reach on our own and you ask me about weapons,” Her narrowed eyes fixed the TerraCom group. She was seething. “How dare you?”

“The survival of our entire race is at stake!” The leader of the TerraCom group, an NCCF Colonel, shouted back. “You need to reassess your priorities. If you don’t get us the information we need then we’ll be forced to take measures.”

“Like hell you will,” Merrill Weston shouted from the SOLCorp group. “This sure as hell isn’t your installation. You have no authority to make these kinds of demands here,” The station commander gave Leda a reverent nod. “This lady has done more for us in the past two weeks than every war we’ve ever fought against each other. Do you think this is easy? Do you?”

Leda slipped out, unnoticed, as the small compartment erupted in angry squabbling, each group trying to press its case by sheer volume. Orders from Artemis Cutter had been very clear. TIL had sent her. TIL believed in her. TIL was to get the plans for the bridge as soon as she could translate them. No exceptions.

***

Delta Pavonis

Sunlight shone through the canopy, or tried to… radiation filters installed in the glass reacted to the rising intensity by turning the canopy opaque. Hurricane kept the nose of the spacecraft pointed at what his data-monocle was showing as Festung 21. He could just make out the shape of the depot on long range video but none of their targets yet. He’d be within range soon.

“Trailboss to Trailblazer,” Groover called for him. “Stay sharp. The system defense boat we left behind us got the warning out. Anticipate fighters and active defenses around the depot, over.”

“Just great,” Hurricane muttered without triggering his XHF transmitter. “Some milk run,” He looked toward Jena’s smiling face secured to the instrument panel as he activated the sensor package installed in his weapon bays. “Did you hear that, honey-jugs? We get to play with some Dassaults and some surface guns today. This just keeps getting better.” The advanced sensors immediately detected frenzied radio traffic emitting from the station and the thermal characteristics of fighter-sized engines at full thrust. He oriented his own transmitter toward the 200-ship strike force following behind him and started a data-feed flowing. An alert tone sounded in his helmet as the LCD monocle in front of his right eye dropped lines of data in angry red. He’d just been localized by a Type-27 LONG SHOT radar. Festung 21 had his position.

He brought up the navigation system again and checked to see that his course toward the gas giant Delta Pavonis-3 remained error free. Once he entered orbit around it, however briefly, he would be shielded from the Festung 21 defenses and from the sensors of searching fighters until the gravity assist from the planet catapulted back toward the outer solar system and the waiting USS Ranger. His fuel level, even with additional tanks, would allow for minimal levels of maneuvering. Most had to be saved for the trip home.

The depot was in scanning range when he flipped back to the sensor feed. Festung 21 was there, as was the SOLCorp platform closer deeper in-system. He could make out the storage, habitation, and administration facilities floating around the station as well as transfer shuttles moving between each. Conspicuously absent were any of the prime targets he’d studied so hard to recognize. Visigoth, Vandal, and Helmut Mannheimer were either out of position or missing entirely. The only warships he could make out were blocks of old Jericho-class destroyers, launched before the Neo-Colonial War, tied up together in orbit of the depot.

He triggered his XHF transmitter and said, “Trailblazer to Trailboss, the fleet is gone. I repeat, the fleet is gone.”

A warning tone peeped through his helmet again as the data-monocle bracketed a trio of contacts out amid the star field in red- missiles reaching out for him. He dropped his eyes to the fuel display as he activated his ECM suite then to Jena’s picture. What’s it to be then? She seemed to say. Surprise was lost. All he could do now was get home alive.

***

Procyon-2/ Octavia

Lefleur paced as he watched Procyon rise, first A then B, as he always had. That morning he had company. “Look at them, boy,” He said as Procyon B emerged. “Did you know that most star-systems are binaries? If we’re looking at the natural order of things, Sol system is an anomaly.”

Newton Kilgore, standing facing Lefleur, turned his head to observe the view. After the incident at the arms fair, the chairman of Transterran had become much more genial, at least toward him. Kilgore shielded his eyes from the glare and said, “Lots of things about Sol system are anomalies. Humanity, for example, or at least human intelligence.”

Lefleur shook his head. “No, my friend, we’re hardly an anomaly. I hardly think something as vast as this universe of ours has only one intelligence. Maybe sometime long after we’re gone, whoever else is out there will find us and start excavating our ruins. Nothing is forever except endless time. Even stars eventually burn out. Eventually man won’t even resemble you or me now.”

“Does this trouble you, sir?” Kilgore said and stepped closer to his executive officer’s shoulder.

“Not at all,” Lefleur said and smirked at him as if such a question was not of reasonable men. “How can it? Who says were even going to be remembered then? Don’t trouble yourself with things you can do nothing about. I’m sure I’ll be there in some form or another.”

“Interesting.” Kilgore said. Lefleur chuckled.

“Not really. It’s kind of you to say but you’re far from the first person I’ve bored with my stories,” Lefleur said and turned away from the twin sunrise. “I suppose you’re wondering if there was another reason by now.”

Newton shrugged. Many unpleasant possibilities came to mind.

“You’re a very good listener,” Lefleur said. “That’s one thing I’ve noticed about you. I admit that I’ve made some inquiries about you. I like what I’ve heard. But,” He sighed. “That isn’t why you’re here.”

Newton took a hard swallow. Lefleur took no notice as he waved an arm toward a table laden with heated breakfast servings. Newton hesitated until Lefleur nodded at it and then moved to sit.

“You’re smart,” Lefleur said as he grasped a pitcher and poured water into Newton’s glass. He filled his own glass, set the pitcher down, and then seated himself. “That’s why you’re here. I understand that Val Vlaz was your prefect before your posting to our office here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I know Val. How did anyone convince him to let you go?” Lefleur gave him a questioning smirk. “Be honest.”

“I did, sir,” Kilgore said, his mind rifling through his dossier for information that the chairman wanted. “With a very substantial sum my family provided.”

“Where were you before this?”

“Lalande, sir. I was assigned to the administration staff for our facilities there. I’m originally from New Saxony. My parents were very determined to see me advance.”