Crash took a deep breath. “There’s just so much to know.”
Emma’s tone was sympathetic. “It’s okay. You’ll get there. I mean, you’re flying on forty hours of training. Did Sean not tell you how long most pilots need on simulation mode before they’re fit to fly solo?”
Crash shook his head, and then realized that Emma probably wasn’t able to see him. “No?” he confirmed, vocally.
“Try three years of twenty hours a week!” she exclaimed. “Sean was a slow one. He had to retake most of the tests twice, so he was three and a half years in simulations before they ever let him loose to take off!”
Crash sat up straighter. “Seriously? He never mentioned that. I’ve been feeling like I’m a slowpoke!”
“Seriously,” Emma confirmed. “He’s a sly one, that Royale; not even telling you the length of the training…”
Sean stepped into the cockpit. “Giving away more of my secrets there, Emma?”
“Just helping your protégé gain some perspective,” Emma replied without a hint of guilt.
“Right,” he said flatly.
Crash turned to look at him. “Why didn’t you tell me that? Three years, man!”
Sean grinned. “Because, young man, you will not need that long. The rate you’re going, you’ll be flying solo in a month. That's flying with minimal EI capabilities. If, somehow, I get wiped out and the ship is still flying, you would need 3,000 hours to get up to speed."
Crash’s head moved back involuntarily. “Really?” he asked, his face still relatively unchanged despite his surprise.
Sean bobbed his head as he pulled his console chair around and climbed back in. “Sure. You’re a natural. One of the most talented I’ve ever seen. You intuitively understand how the tech works, so you only need showing once… You’ll have this down in no time.”
Crash relaxed back in his chair. This time his face seemed a little lighter than it had.
There was movement in the passageway. The two pilots turned to see Brock stumbling through the door.
Sean spun his chair around to face him properly. “All okay back there?”
Brock was panting dramatically. “Yeah…” he said, pushing his way into the cockpit and pulling one of the other six chairs around. He climbed up and sat back. “Ahhhhh…” he breathed, closing his eyes. “That’s better.”
Sean raised one eyebrow, still looking at him.
Brock felt the weight of Sean’s gaze, and opened one eye. He sat up a little and opened both eyes. “Okay. So you probably want an update?”
Sean nodded. “That would be… helpful.”
Brock sighed and shifted a little more upright in his console chair. “Okay, so it was tough work, but I managed to recalibrate the frequency of the shield to mask the data transmissions that Oz will be using. It effectively blinds their systems.” He paused, and looked pointedly at Sean. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was to do that?”
Sean smiled. “No. But it sounds complex.”
Brock lay back again, waving his hand. “Man, you have no idea, especially given the short window we had!” He closed his eyes again. “But it’s done.”
Sean chuckled and turned back to his console, shaking his head.
Crash had started to relax a little, while still keeping one eye on the quantum comm signal screen. “What I still don’t fully understand is why the General has us doing this mish. I mean, doesn’t he have better trained, more capable teams at his disposal in the Etheric Empire?”
Brock opened one eye again. “’More capable’? Speak for yourself, baby!” He smiled to himself and closed his eye.
Crash’s lips turned up at the corners ever so slightly.
Sean rubbed the stubble on his face. “He does,” he said, carefully watching Brock for a reaction before continuing. “Only there are political things at play. He can’t be seen to be forcibly decommissioning or constraining a planet’s military right now - even if they are secretly and illegally arming themselves up beyond the official agreement. And if his people were caught doing it, there would be hell to pay.”
Crash frowned. “So, what, we’re the clandestine team that gives him deniability?”
Sean pushed his lips out. “Yeah. Something like that,” he agreed. “The General is under pressure to reduce his forces — except he knows that this is just a ploy to leave the Empire defenseless so that other parties can come in and take them out. Only…” Sean looked a little shifty and lowered his voice. “He’s not meant to know that, and revealing that he does will cause big problems. So, basically, what we’re doing cannot be traced back to the Etheric Empire under any circumstances.”
Brock laid motionless, his eyes still closed. “So what about that big fuck-off logo on the side of the ship? And the pretty picture of our esteemed Empress?”
Sean grinned. “Yeah. That.”
Crash looked at Sean. “Yeah, won’t it be recognized?”
Sean glanced at the console at his right elbow. “You want to explain this bit, Emma?”
Emma’s audio channel opened with a tiny crack. “Sure. The forcefield has various settings. Mostly, we used it to deflect radar devices, as well as physical attacks. Then, about sixty years ago, a bright young thing on Lance’s team came up with the idea of having our cloaks actually be visual. She seemed to like to use ships in close contact with the enemies, so they had a team develop a kind of visual camouflaging ability. We can pretty much make the outside of the ship look like anything we want. Right now, we appear the same as the commercial ships coming and going from the planet’s surface.”
Crash wiped his face with his hand. “That’s… amazing.”
“Yeah,” agreed Emma. “It’s pretty cool.”
Crash’s lips did their turny-uppy thing at the edges again. Sean noticed Crash’s amusement at Emma, and remembered that these Sarkians hadn’t been around EIs at all until Oz jumped right past and went straight to an AI.
“Okay,” Sean said, changing the subject and checking his console again. “Let’s see if we can get a read-out on those miscreants down on the surface yet.”
Planet Kurilia, Capital Building of the Zhyn Empire
Lord High Marshall Shaa remained bolt upright at his desk. His blue skin caught the light from the floor-to-ceiling panels, which transmitted varying amounts of the radiation at different times of the day. Right now, it was almost noon for the planet Kurilia; meaning that only 20% of the radiation was being let through the active biofilter, permitting optimal environmental conditions.
As the head of the entire Zhyn military, Lord High Marshall Shaa was used to being the most powerful person in any room. And he expected due deference.
Now he regarded his subordinate, standing several feet in front of his desk. “Why is it, Justicar Beno’or, that every time I send you with a mandate to this Reynolds human, you come back without an agreement?”
Diplomatic Affairs Justicar Beno'or fidgeted awkwardly as he stood before the High Marshall. Shaa’s Vice High Marshall looked on quietly from the other side of the room; he managed to maintain a look of neutrality from many years in high office, where it was always best to keep one’s personal feelings concealed. He was looking down at his hands, which were neatly folded in his lap.
Beno’or scratched at the side of his head, just behind the boney frill that framed his face, thinking of how to position what he still needed to relay.
“Well?” Shaa growled, his impatience showing.
Beno’or took a deep breath. “Well, Your Highness…” he paused, checking himself briefly. “It appears that the underlying problem may be that Reynolds doesn’t intend to disarm at all.”
Shaa looked about to explode.
At that moment, his right hand man chose to inject himself into the conversation. “If I may, Your Highness?” he asked, standing and walking towards the fearful looking Justicar. “Whether Reynolds intends to play ball or not, if he wants unity, he’s going to
have to agree to our terms.”
He paused, glancing at Beno’or, knowing that it was prudent not to share much of their plan with him. Ever. “When Reynolds discovers that the others are ready to be involved, if he wants to avoid the weight of their military might, he will have to comply.”
He shifted his glance from Beno’or to his master, and then lowered his eyes again in respect.
Shaa looked somewhat appeased as he exhaled slightly. “This is true.” He pushed back his chair slightly, and looked to Beno’or again. “I expect you to try again within the moon. Leave us, now,” he commanded dismissively.
Beno’or, freed from the anxious torment, found his feet and made his way as quickly as he could from the grand office. His footsteps clunked clumsily across the carbon-fiber tiles, making far more noise than the calculated precise steps of Vice High Marshall Davon.
Shaa indicated to the scuttling Zhyn, as he sat back in the chair a little more comfortably, now that he was in private. “What do you make of that?” he asked his trusted advisor.
Davon approached the desk a little closer than Beno’or had dared venture. “I think he’s perceptive. Or he has intel.” He looked down at his nails casually. “Either way, I’ll find out. If he’s right, then these talks will probably need spicing up a little.”
Shaa sneered. “What did you have in mind?” he asked.
Davon maintained his polite composure. “I believe a show of strength and unity would perhaps force Reynolds to reconsider. Just enough to show him that we are better as friends than we are as enemies.”
Shaa nodded. “Well, if it was just brute force, we could have done that already. We decided long ago that we need them to demilitarize before we would be a match for them.”
Davon nodded. “But now, with The Empress gone, rumor has it that there is unrest in the Empire. And with our other partners, I don’t believe this Reynolds is capable of standing firm under such pressure. He’s a politician now. Not a warrior.”
Shaa looked contemplative, absorbing what he was being told. “I agree. No real General leaves military command to take a political position, as he did. Not unless he’s lost the stomach for war.”
He paused before pulling himself back to the matter at hand. “So you believe he’ll concede for the sake of peace?”
Davon paused, carefully considering his words. “I think he’ll weigh the considerations carefully,” he said. “For the most part, our technological abilities are almost evenly matched, from what our scouts can find. However, they are much larger. We have three worlds’ worth of excellent raw materials and military talent to draw from. Plus, when was the last time that they really went to war — without The Empress driving the initiative?” he clarified.
Shaa shook his head. They both knew the answer to that.
Davon concluded his assessment. “All things considered, I believe we need to pursue the diplomatic channels publicly, but continue our covert efforts; then see if we can add some additional pressure that we can deny knowledge of, but which sends a very clear message.”
Shaa puffed his chest a little as he took a deep breath. “I agree. As much as I’d like to show them who they are dealing with overtly, going up against a smaller fleet would be strategically sensible.”
Davon didn’t move a muscle. He stood in front of his commander, awaiting instructions.
Shaa was still deep in thought. “You make some interesting points,” he said. “See if you can set up a meeting with the others. If we’re going to do this, we need to make sure that we’re not acting alone.”
Davon snapped to attention and bowed. “Very good, Your Highness. I will make the arrangements.”
Shaa spun his chair around to look out onto the surface of the planet, beyond his primary military base. He watched the nearby skylift whizzing up and down, taking personnel to and from the orbiting space stations and waiting craft. His military might was formidable, and growing in secret.
But his military was not yet enough to rival the Etheric Empire, or as they were calling themselves now, the Etheric Federation. Reynolds was having to focus on all of the challenges with bringing together different alien races into one group with the Etheric Empire still the most powerful among them.
With a little political maneuvering, though…
A smile crept across his deep blue lips as he contemplated potential victories.
Chapter 4
Planet Kurilia, Perimeter of PrimeBase, Northern Hemisphere
“We need to get into that building.” Molly frowned, peeking at their target from the last of their tree cover.
Joel scanned the area looking for a break in the fence that surrounded the base. “We’ve no pods to perform our usual break-in antics…” He pulled his lips to one side, thinking.
Jack kept her eyes peeled for any sign of people. The last thing they needed was to be rumbled before they got what they came for.
Molly seemed to have made a decision, though. She straightened up and pulled her baton out from between the holsters on her back.
“I’m going in,” she announced, “the old-fashioned way.”
Joel looked at her with a hint of sarcasm on his face. “Seriously? With a wooden stick?”
“No,” she smiled as if to call him silly. “Hold it for me,” she said, handing it to him. She started taking off her weapons and relinquishing them to Jack and Joel.
“I’m going to get into their data center, and it will be easier if I don’t look like the Terminator.”
Jack looked confused. “How? They have retinal scans and all sorts of security checks. Not to mention you’re… erm… small and monkey-like.”
Molly grinned. “You mean human?” She laughed a little. “It’s just like anything based on relationships… I’m going to have to see about playing to my advantages. And remember — no one expected the Spanish Inquisition…”
Joel eyed her, worried.
Her voice trailed off as the faces of her comrades showed they had spent zero hours watching the old television archives from Earth. She shook her head in dismay and finished stripping her gear off. She looked almost civilian in her one-piece, leathers, and combat boots.
She pulled her hair tie out and ruffled her brown hair a little. “Okay,” she announced, “wish me luck!”
Joel watched her walk away from their hiding place in the trees, and over to a gate in the fence. He couldn’t fathom what she was possibly going to do.
When did Molly have an advantage regarding relationships?
Jack also watched her go. “That lady sure has balls of steel,” she commented to Joel, a hint of admiration in her voice.
Molly slipped through the fence and approached the target building. She saw a scientist in a lab coat disappearing into the server entrance; then she spotted another person walking across the concrete open area, heading for the same door. She ambled over as casually as she could.
The Zhyn in the white coat looked up at her. This was the first time Molly had seen this blue-skinned race; though many of their features resembled that of the Estarians on her home planet, their faces were framed like the triceratops she learned about from Earth’s history archives. Their eyes were mesmerizing, too — golden, with flecks of light that seemed to emanate from them.
She tried not to stare.
If you stare, he’ll know that you’re not from around here.
And the pink skin and human features don’t give me away?
Yeah. You’re going to need to play it casual.
Yeah, yeah; use his surprise to keep him off-guard. Tap into social norms, etc.
Exactly.
I just hope the social norms that we know are the same as what he knows.
Yeah, good luck with that.
Thanks, Oz. Very helpful.
Molly approached the stranger, her hands by her sides and her lips smiling softly. “Greetings!” she called out to him.
He looked immediately uncertai
n. He tried to look away, but Molly was heading straight for him.
“Hey,” Molly persisted. “I was wondering if you could help me?”
Oz. Have you done something? I feel a little strange when I speak.
Just helping out with the language translation. You’re now speaking Zhyn, with an Entruvian regional dialect.
No shit?!
Shit.
Thanks, Oz. Great move.
At your service.
The scientist slowed his pace and looked at Molly. “Hello,” he said, his accent lilting a little.
She put her weight on one leg and allowed her hip to stick out a little, making her seem less formidable.
“I feel so silly asking you this,” she began, now that she knew he was listening, “but I’m here on an exchange mission, and I need to meet my boss in there.”
She pointed back towards the data center. She lowered her eyes and blushed a little. “Except I left my access pass inside, and I’m not set up on the system, yet.” She signaled to her eyes, referring to the retinal scan. “I don’t suppose you could help me get back in, could you?”
The man regarded her warily, looking around. “I’m not sure. It would be a breach of security.”
Molly looked down. “Ah, yes. I understand.” She turned as if to go, and slapped her hand on her forehead. “I’m so stupid!” she added, muttering to herself.
The man took a step in her direction, before heading towards the door again. He watched her carefully. “You know… It’s okay. I can let you in this once.”
Molly smiled to herself.
Nicely done, Ms. Bates. I can see you have mastered “the old-fashioned way…”
Why, thank you, Oz. And yes, years of getting into labs I didn’t have clearance for. There’s almost a geek code.
The man led the way towards the building, Molly striding confidently after him.
He stood by the holo panel and waved his hand, activating the panel to scan his eyes. The door slid open, and he waved for her to go in ahead of him.
The Ascension Myth Box Set Page 91