Battlegroup Vega

by Anders Raynor

  Even though mankind had secured a major victory, Adrian would always remember that battle with bitterness. On that day, he’d lost Ophelia, the young woman he loved as if she were his biological daughter.

  He clenched his fists when the events of that day replayed in his mind. He hated the Biozi for taking Ophelia from him, and he hated the Secretary of Defense of the Alliance, Charles DeCourt, for setting in motion the chain of events that would lead to this separation.

  Ophelia was the fruit of his intellect, the embodiment of his beliefs. He’d dreamed of creating the perfect human being who would embody the qualities he admired in humanity: curiosity, intelligence, creativity, and compassion. Taar’kuun geno-architects had designed such a being using his research. For what purpose? That was still a mystery to him.

  “Ria, replay memory file 125-C-42-12.”

  The PA obeyed. Adrian’s eyes welled with tears when he saw Ophelia. He admired her curly locks sparkling under the light, her blue eyes, and her angelic face.

  “Why are you replaying this file, if it makes you sad and causes you pain?” Ria asked.

  “Because I need to remind myself why I keep on fighting. When I saw Ophelia for the first time, when I took her in my arms, I knew she would change me. Before I rescued her, I had a reason to survive. Now I had a reason to live.”

  “You miss her very much.”

  Adrian rocked his head. “She grew up so quickly, in only one year. I wished she were just a human child, but I had to reckon she was different from any child born naturally. She’s a genetic construct created by my enemies. Yet she’s also part of my soul. Without her, I cannot feel whole.”

  He watched the recording for another minute, then thought, “Enough rest. I need to talk to the captain.”

  * * *

  Talia agreed to release Adrian from her care, but she promised to monitor his vitals remotely via his bionic implants. He promised he would return to sickbay immediately if he felt dizzy again.

  The ship dispensed to him a blue coverall made of biosynthetic fibers. When he put it on, it shrank automatically to fit him. He asked the onboard AI where he could find Captain Hunt, and learned that the captain was in his quarters. Adrian remembered the way. The feeling of déjà vu persisted.

  He found the captain sitting in his chair, contemplating the cosmic scenery displayed on a panoramic holo-screen, and clenching a strange-looking object between his teeth.

  “Bad habits die hard, I see,” Adrian said, offering the captain a knowing smile.

  Hunt took the pipe out of his mouth, holding it between thumb and index finger. A billow of smoke escaped between his gray lips. His gaze was still lost in contemplation.

  “Bad habits never die.” The captain hadn’t changed since their last meeting, and his voice remained as husky and cold as Adrian remembered it. “Mine will die with me.”

  Adrian wondered why the captain hadn’t reverted further to the human phenotype. Phenotypic restoration took longer in older people. It could take several years in individuals who’d outlived a couple of centuries, like the captain. In his case, however, retroforming seemed to have stopped half-way. His head still bore Taar’kuun scales, and his skin was a dark shade of gray.

  “But you’re not here to lecture me on the dangers of tobacco, are you, doctor?”

  “Certainly not, captain. I leave that to Dr. Galen. I came to thank you for saving my life for the third time. I wonder if you followed orders in doing so, or if you went maverick, like the first time.”

  The captain turned his unblinking stare to Adrian. “No offense, doctor, but you don’t need to know that. What you need to know is our destination. I’m taking you to Tethys.”

  Adrian gaped at the captain, lost for words.

  Hunt nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Ambassador Ansgaard requested your presence.”

  “But what about the arrest warrant?”

  The captain turned his eyes to the holo-screen again. “You have a lot to learn about politics, doctor. DeCourt never intended to try you for treason, even though I suspect nothing would give him greater pleasure. Executing you would make you a martyr, and that’s the last thing DeCourt wants. The truth is, he needs you. We all need you.”

  That’s why the major sacrificed herself to save me. Her orders were to bring me back to the capital at any cost. That’s why she arrested me in the middle of the battle. She needed to get me to safety, in case the Defiance fell into enemy hands.

  “Right, now I get it,” Adrian said. “DeCourt planned to offer me amnesty in exchange for something. What does he want from me?”

  “What he wants doesn’t matter. We need to stop this war, doctor. As you’ve destroyed the only weapon we could use to leverage a peace treaty, we have one option left.”

  “Sign a ban on retroviral research in exchange for an armistice. The Taar’kuun want my signature on it. We’re back to the conversation we had two years ago, when you rescued me the first time. No wonder I have this persisting feeling of déjà vu.”

  “Last time, DeCourt wanted to develop a bioweapon against the Biozi, and then sign a ban on further retroviral research, so we could negotiate from a position of strength. But you destroyed that bioweapon and disappeared.”

  “The Biozi have no way of knowing that I destroyed that research,” Adrian pointed out. “Maybe that’s why they’re willing to negotiate armistice—they don’t know with certainty if the Alliance has an effective bioweapon against them, and they don’t want to take chances.”

  “How did you escape, by the way? Not without help from Rico Varez and his henchmen, I presume.”

  Adrian spread his arms in a gesture of frustration. “I didn’t know where else to turn.”

  The captain raised his hand to signify he didn’t want to hear about it. “Water under the bridge, as our ancestors would say. I keep risking the lives of my crew for you because I still believe you’re our best chance for peace. You’re the most talented human scientist, maybe the most talented geno-architect in this whole galaxy. The TGS authorities respect you for that.”

  “Stop it, captain. You’ll make me blush. There was a time I would’ve done anything to prove I was the greatest scientist of my generation. Now all I want is to find Ophelia. She’s all that matters to me.”

  The captain shrugged, and Adrian wasn’t quite sure how to interpret that. Maybe the captain didn’t care, or maybe he did care, but considered that Adrian’s personal quest was of little significance in the grand scheme of things.

  “I’ll offer you a deal, doctor. You help the ambassador, you sign that treaty, and my ship is yours. I’ll do everything in my power to help you find your daughter.”

  Adrian gasped, trying to control the emotion that welled inside him. “How can I refuse?”

  04

  Last hope for peace

  The dome of the summit palace loomed in the distance, partly veiled in crimson fog. The red and orange disk of the gas giant Tethys orbited hung above the city. The sun was just a bright spot in the sky.

  Adrian admired the view, walking through the transparent boarding bridge that connected the Remembrance to the spaceport. Riley Lance and Jason Blaze escorted him with a squad of ASF marines.

  “That’s an impressive feat of bioforming,” Adrian said, gazing at the forest that stretched as far as the eye could see beyond the fence of the spaceport. Further to the south, the forest was interrupted by a fjord, its waters reflecting the gas giant’s warm light. “Tethys was surely frozen solid before the Taar’kuun bioformed it.”

  “You seem to admire them,” Jason said with disapproval in his voice. “Maybe there was a vibrant indigenous ecosystem under the ice, and the Biozi destroyed it when they bioformed this moon. Maybe there were even intelligent beings living in the depths of the ocean. We’ll never know.”

  Adrian raised his hands. “I’m not defending the Taar’kuun, I’m simply pointing out that their scientific and technological accomplishments are worthy of admiration. Their ance
stors evolved on a desert world where water and food were scarce. Every day they had to struggle for survival. Yet they developed science and technology, transforming their world into a garden, a green paradise. Then they took to the stars. Think about it; a million years of prosperity and artistic endeavors…”

  “So it’s better to make peace with them then try to wipe them out,” Jason said. “I agree with you on this one. Still, one day, they’ll have to answer for what they’ve done. As a xenobiologist, don’t you regret the loss of all the native species the Biozi destroyed?”

  Adrian pursed his lips and turned his gaze to the dome of the palace. “Of course I do. But I don’t want to think about that. Right now, we need to muzzle the blasters, or bury the hatchet, as our ancestors would say.”

  They entered the spaceport terminal to be greeted by a squad of Taar’kuun troopers in combat biosuits. According to the terms of the ceasefire, the Alliance and the TGS were to deploy the same number of soldiers in the capital of Tethys, and both parties had full access to all facilities, including the spaceport. The TGS troopers were ensuring the ASF played by the book and didn’t try to deploy extra troops.

  The personnel of the spaceport—Taar’kuun civilians in blue coveralls—asked Adrian and his security detail to wait in the designated area. He decided to use this opportunity to catch up with Riley and Jason. He glanced at Jason’s uniform and noticed one golden stripe and a laurel on his shoulders. “You’ve been promoted to lieutenant-commander. Congratulations!”

  “They still call me lieutenant,” Jason said with a smirk. The curls of his ginger hair glistened under the spaceport lights. “I need another stripe to earn the privilege of being called commander. The same goes for Lance, by the way.”

  Adrian turned to Riley, who hadn’t said a word all day. “Oh, congratulations to you too, Lieutenant-Commander Lance.”

  She was taller than average, blond with blue eyes and a crew haircut. Lips pressed tight, chin lifted, she looked like she’d been born to wear the uniform. A poster girl for the ASF.

  “Thank you, sir,” she replied curtly, with no warmth in her eyes or her tone.

  “Sir?” Adrian raised his eyebrows. “I thought we were on a first name basis after everything we’ve been through. Wait, something is bothering you. Am I right? You don’t approve of these peace talks, do you?”

  Riley gave him a sharp look. “What I think is irrelevant, doctor. My duty is to protect you, and I’ll do my job to the best of my abilities.”

  Jason scoffed. “See how she is? And I have to deal with her on a daily basis. She’s gonna tell you zilch about what she thinks or feels. But I know she hates the very idea of peace talks with the TGS. The only good Biozi is a dead Biozi, right, lieutenant?”

  Riley glared at him. “Whatever you say, sir.”

  Jason offered her a charming smile, then turned to Adrian. “See, the captain made me XO, and she’s never gotten past it. She thinks I shouldn’t be in the ASF at all. Yet she never requested a transfer. I wonder why.”

  “Because I’m proud to serve under Captain Hunt,” Riley said. “Permission to speak freely?”

  “Oh, you know you don’t need my permission for that, Lance,” Jason replied, his smile persisting.

  “I take orders from you only ‘cos I respect the captain’s decision,” Riley snapped. “He put you in charge ‘cos you always give a hard time to your superiors, and he likes to be challenged. He still believes he can make a decent officer out of you—that’s a hell of a challenge.”

  Jason exploded in laughter, as if Riley had told him a killer joke. “That’s rich. I love that. Lance, I hope you’ll never request a transfer. You’re just too much fun!”

  A Taar’kuun in a civilian uniform ushered Adrian to the security gate. Riley and Jason followed, keeping a hand on their blasters. They boarded a shuttle to the palace. ASF and TGS gunships and starfighters buzzed around the shimmering dome. Adrian could feel how fragile the ceasefire was; the slightest provocation could cause a massacre.

  The shuttle landed on a platform hanging three hundred meters above ground. Adrian and his security detail proceeded to the palace through a corridor made of a transparent biosynthetic material. An autopod took them to the meeting room where the ambassador awaited.

  Ambassador Ansgaard was tall and heavily built; his apparent age was about seventy-five standard years, although his chronological age was difficult to estimate. White hair framed a few traces of Taar’kuun morphology, namely the remnants of scales around his ears and gray patches on his forehead and his neck.

  “Dr. Darus,” he greeted Adrian, grabbing the doctor’s hand. “It’s an honor. Thank you so much for coming. I know about your history with the Secretary of Defense, and, on behalf of the government, I apologize for what he put you through. The president is willing to grant you full amnesty.”

  “In exchange for a signature,” Adrian said with a knowing smile. “I would have signed that ban on retroviral research two years ago, if the president asked me to. But the Secretary of Defense forced me to design a bioweapon instead, using my daughter as leverage.”

  The ambassador nodded. “I know about your daughter, doctor. Believe me, I sympathize with all my heart. I agree that this tragedy could have been avoided, but please understand that nothing is ever simple in politics. I will brief you on the situation. But first, please allow me to talk to Jason.”

  Adrian raised his eyebrows and said nothing. He wondered why the ambassador of the Alliance was on a first name basis with a junior officer. That question would be answered soon enough.

  The ambassador set his large palms on the young man’s shoulders. Jason was taller than average, yet Ansgaard seemed to tower above him.

  “I’m reaching my twilight years,” the ambassador said, looking Jason in the eyes. “Before setting on the final journey, I wish to experience the human condition as fully as I can. I’ll never have biological children, yet I yearn to experience fatherhood, at least in some form. You’ve been like a son to me, and I want to make it official. Jason Blaze, would you be my son in the eyes of the law and carry my name?”

  Jason’s expression was unusually serene. He was probably too overwhelmed with emotion to speak, or even react in any visible way. The two men stood in silence for a moment.

  “Jason Ansgaard Blaze,” the young man said solemnly. “Yes, I love the sound of that, father.”

  Adrian thought they would weep, but they were both too proud for such displays. Ansgaard contented himself with patting Jason on the shoulder, and turned to Adrian.

  “Thank you, doctor. Now I’m all yours.”

  * * *

  Adrian and his security detail spent three days at the palace, while the human delegation was negotiating with the Taar’kuun chancellor. The president of the Alliance was due to arrive on the third day, but the ASF One—as the presidential ship was called—was caught in a magnetic storm on its way to Tethys. However, Ansgaard had full authority to sign the peace treaty on behalf of the Alliance, and no one wanted to delay the armistice.

  The Taar’kuun chancellor refused to meet with Adrian, and the latter was asked to remain in his quarters for the duration of the negotiations. He received a surprising holo-call though.

  “Raak’naar?” he exclaimed when his nemesis appeared on the holo-screen.

  “It is Vice Chancellor Raak’naar,” the Taar’kuun replied, the tips of his cephalic appendages gleaming with cold light.

  “If you expect congratulations for your unexpected and undeserved promotion, you’ll be disappointed, because I won’t give you that pleasure.”

  The Taar’kuun never smiled, but Raak’naar’s scaly lips stretched into something resembling a smirk. “Your animosity toward me is understandable; after all, I am the one who recovered the human child you call Ophelia.”

  “By recovered you mean abducted,” Adrian snapped. “I imagine you used her to get your promotion, otherwise I don’t see how a filthy snake like you could’ve been prom
oted from admiral to vice chancellor in only one year.”

  Raak’naar’s appendages twisted. The light they emitted developed a red tint. “You stole her from us in the first place, Daar’uun’akn.” He used Adrian’s Taar’kuun name to remind him of his origins.

  “And you stole my research so your geno-architects could create Ophelia, surely to use her as a tool in your war against the human species. Don’t claim the high moral ground—I’m sick and tired of your hypocrisy. Why are you calling me? To dissuade me from signing the retroviral research ban?”

  “That will not be necessary. I want to give you a chance to surrender, Daar’uun’akn. I will forgive all your crimes against the Galactic State, and I will elevate you to the ruling caste, so you can lead an elite research laboratory on Taar’kaara. I give you my word this is not a trick. Despite our differences, I always respected you as a scientist.”

  Such a generous offer took Adrian by surprise. Being elevated to a higher caste was the supreme honor for a Taar’kuun. He’d already been elevated once, which allowed him to become xenobiologist and geno-architect in the first place.

  “You must be desperate to make such an offer to the Enemy Number One of the TGS,” he said with caution.

  “You are not our enemy; you are an asset. And I am willing to pay whatever is necessary to acquire your loyalty.”

  “My loyalty isn’t for sale.” Adrian was about to kill the comm channel.

  “Ophelia.”

  Adrian froze, and his heart raced when Raak’naar pronounced the name of his daughter.

  “I am the only one who can give you want you yearn for,” the Taar’kuun said. “Choose; live a long life of luxury and comfort with Ophelia, or be annihilated together with the blasphemous species of your creation. You have one standard hour to make your decision. And that decision will be final.”

  * * *

  Anxiety held Adrian in a firm grip. Feverish and short of breath, he called Ambassador Ansgaard and asked for an urgent meeting. The ambassador agreed. They met in a secure room isolated from the rest of the palace by a stasis field, so no one could spy on their conversation.