Rogue Stars

by C Gockel et al.

  His instincts served him well; the other ship tacked away as an explosion blazed bright against its hull—it plummeted and swerved into a dense clump of dust—

  —the laser lost tracking. Terrific. It must have one hell of an aversion shield.

  No time to ponder it, for he promptly became the target of the return flare of a pulse laser—silver-white in hue, suggesting ytterbium crystal construction. Not a particle beam…and Alliance-produced? Odd.

  In a smooth motion he accelerated in an arc up and over the attacker and entered a wall of thick nebular gases. He strafed horizontally before sinking down into the cover, hoping to sneak around and catch his adversary from underneath.

  He exited the cloud to find the enemy due ahead and waiting for him.

  Didn’t see that coming.

  He jerked up at a fifty degree angle and away—

  —but it was too late. The ship quaked beneath his hands from the impact of point-blank pulse laser fire.

  He managed to get off a staccato of fire while in full reverse, though it was unclear if any of it hit. The attacker’s weapon did not lose tracking. A relentless pulse stream tore through his shields, then the outer hull. The rear of the ship plummeted into a wild spin as alerts flared across the HUD bank.

  Letting loose a string of curses in half a dozen languages, he wrenched out of the spin and set a trajectory for the nearby planet. It had obviously been placed here just so he could crash on it.

  He surrendered the controls to the CU long enough to pull on the environment suit and carry the helmet back to the chair. The helmet annoyed him; it cut off his senses and narrowed his perspective, and he wasn’t putting it on until it was required to continue living and breathing.

  On retaking the controls he worked to approach the planet at an angle which stood a marginal chance of not turning the ship and him to flaming meteoroids. Concentrated as he was on flying a vessel which seemed to have lost most of its tail section, it took a few seconds for him to realize the incoming fire had ceased—possibly on account of the fact he was clearly already dead.

  The turbulence of the planetary atmosphere sent the ship into violent convulsions. He threw everything into holding her steady, but he was fighting a losing battle.

  Then the HUD went dark.

  Then the aft section of the ship exploded.

  Goddamn pain-in-my-ass mercs…with a groan he pulled the helmet on and secured the seal to the suit, punched the evac and dove for the hatch.

  It went without saying that there were no atmosphere corridors onto the small, barren planet buried within Metis.

  Alex fought to maintain control of the damaged Siyane in the buffeting atmospheric forces. Visually she was blind, for the viewport revealed only the whirl of an impenetrable caramel-colored dust. She relied on the bank of displays to track altitude and angle of descent and to search the topography for a safe place to land. She needed to inspect the damage, and she just wasn’t crazy enough to open the engineering hatch while in space when she was fairly certain the lower hull had been blown wide open.

  The fiery bloom of an explosion thirty degrees to starboard cut through the dust and haze. A harsh breath escaped between gritted teeth. She should feel satisfaction at the attacker’s destruction. Bastard had the gall to shoot her ship!

  But extinguishing life wasn’t actually something she routinely—or ever—did, and deep down it hadn’t been her goal. She’d merely done what was necessary to defend herself. It was one of many lessons her father had impressed upon her once she was old enough to comprehend them.

  Alex, if an attacker means you harm, you cannot hold back. The attacker will seize advantage of your attempt to preserve their life. They will take yours.

  The simple and stark truth was the other ship fired first, giving her no choice but to destroy it before it destroyed her.

  Still, her heart leapt of its own accord when a pinpoint blip appeared on the radio, mid-infrared and electronic sensor screens. The pilot had escaped prior to the vessel’s disintegration and currently plummeted toward the planet’s surface. Presumably they wore a suit and a chute and would land intact, for all the good it would do them.

  Her initial relief at the sign of life dissolved into dismay. Without a way off the planet or any rescue incoming—assuming their communications capabilities were as nonexistent as hers had been since entering the Nebula—whether in two days or two weeks, the pilot was as good as dead.

  “Gavno!” This person had tried to shoot her down, and would doubtless have left her to die had they succeeded. Likely a merc, assuredly a criminal and clearly dangerous; in all probability a killer who deserved to die.

  But not by her hand.

  She wasn’t a killer…though for perhaps the first time ever she almost regretted it.

  Groaning in exasperation at an obstinate conscience, she yanked the ship into a rough trajectory toward where the pilot should be landing. It took some doing; the ship gyrated like a teenager on a chimeral high at a rave. When the opportunity came to inspect the hull she expected to find a royal shit-ton of damage.

  But for now the exterior plasma shielding continued to hold. She forcibly drove the ship downward, weaving a path toward the projected impact point. She had to dodge the wreckage of the enemy ship twice as it cavorted wildly and wrenched apart from the pressure of the atmosphere and the pull of gravity.

  Finally the air cleared—so to speak. Sand-saturated winds whipped through the sky, and physical visibility increased only to meters. She zeroed in on the weak electronic signature of the pilot’s suit while keeping an eye on the ground sensor; given the presumed damage to the lower hull there was no guarantee the collision warning still functioned.

  She had slowed almost to a stop before the vague outline of a tensile-fiber chute billowing in the wind came into view.

  Last chance to bail, Alex. Land beyond that hill on the topo map there and make sure you have basic functionality. Then hobble to Gaiae, repair your ship and get on with your life.

  She rolled her eyes in annoyance and settled to the ground with a modicum of grace. After scanning the system monitors to make certain nothing threatened to go critical for the moment, she stood and pulled on her environment suit. She grabbed the Daemon from the cabinet and primed it prior to activating the hatch. Twenty seconds later she stepped onto a rather rudely unwelcoming world.

  She struggled against punishing winds to approach the chute and the prone form tangled in it. Goddammit, was she going to have to go back and get a blade and cut the suky sranuyu out?

  In a flurry of motion the pilot somehow disentangled from the chute and crawled to their knees. Guess not.

  The chute rose in the air to be caught by the wind and shredded to ribbons. The pilot stood, faltered for a second, then righted themselves and focused on her.

  A deep male voice bearing a lilting, melodic timbre came over her suit’s vicinity comm. “Listen, whoever you are, I’m sure we can work something ou—”

  She steadied the gun with both hands and fired.

  Part 2

  CAUSALITY

  “Civilization begins with order, grows with liberty,

  and dies with chaos.”

  * * *

  — Will Durant

  18 Earth

  Vancouver, EASC Headquarters

  Miriam double-checked the file index a final time. She wanted to be able to review her notes during the flight for the session she would be chairing at the TacRecon Conference, on the economic viability of continuous passive planetary-wide hyperspectral scanning. They had been sent to Reference Confirm this morning and needed to be ready by the time she arrived at the spaceport.

  With any luck the notes would occupy her for the entire flight, and she’d have no opportunity to dwell on the destination. She allowed a quiet sigh to escape as she reached for her jacket.

  The sound of the door sliding open caught her by surprise. She could count on one hand the number of people who dared enter her office u
nannounced. If the entrant wasn’t on the list….

  Richard’s eyes were starkly bloodshot even from across the room. He clearly hadn’t been getting much sleep the last several nights. “Turn on the news feed.”

  “I was just on my way out the door for St. Petersburg.”

  “You’re not going.”

  She arched an eyebrow. She didn’t want to go of course, but he had very little say in the matter.

  An aural materialized in front of him; he leaned against the front of the desk and shifted it out so she could also see it. “The data stream from the QEC to Atlantis. Now please, turn on the news feed.”

  “Very well.” A finger press to the edge of her desk and a large panel embedded in the far wall burst to life.

  “—Atlantis security and Alliance officials are refusing to provide any information regarding the incident. However—”

  Her eyes flew to the aural Richard had generated.

  Trade Minister Santiagar confirmed to have suffered a catastrophic overload of cybernetics resulting in stroke and brain hemorrhage

  “What?” She hurried around the desk and positioned herself beside him for a clearer vantage. “Are you certain?”

  “—guests at the dinner recount seeing nothing unusual as the Minister joined the Senecan Trade Director and Atlantis Governor in greeting attendees, and say he abruptly began shaking violently then collapsed—”

  remote injection of self-replicating virus suspected, confirmation expected within seven minutes

  He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I’m afraid so.”

  “—the ballroom has been cleared and everyone present is being detained, though officials assure us it is only precautionary—”

  surveillance scans identify an individual exiting the room through a service door 1.8 seconds after initial manifestation of symptoms

  “—we realize several other networks are reporting that Minister Santiagar has died. We don’t want to jump the gun and report something which turns out to be inaccurate—”

  “Is he dead?”

  He merely nodded.

  individual was tracked into maintenance corridors but disappeared from surveillance cams during level transition 26.4 seconds after incident

  “—responses from both the Earth Alliance and Senecan Federation representatives are confused and conflicting, making it difficult—”

  review of visuals confirm individual physically interacted with the Minister 7.8 seconds prior to incident

  He blew out a sharp breath. “Means it was an official guest. There will be a record.”

  “One of the Senecans?”

  “Or one of ours.”

  “—again, we are reporting an incident at the final event of the Trade Summit involving Alliance Minister—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Miriam, it’s my job to be suspicious.”

  82.6% certainty individual is Christopher Candela, listed as a junior attaché for the Seneca Trade Division

  Her jaw clenched, causing a painful jolt as her teeth clacked together. “I told you.”

  “—we are now able to confirm that Earth Alliance Trade Minister Mangele Santiagar has died. The cause of death is still undetermined—”

  Her eVi began signaling a cascading avalanche of alerts and incoming data. A red alert force-loaded on her whisper.

  Board meeting in twenty minutes. Level V Priority.

  Richard pushed off the edge of the desk and killed the aural. “I got it too. If you’ll excuse me, I have nineteen minutes to pull together everything we have into some sort of coherent form.”

  She was already crossing back around her desk and waved distractedly after him. She sat down, took a deep breath and began issuing orders.

  Barely controlled chaos ruled the conference room as she walked in. A cluster of advisors surrounded General Alamatto at the head of the table, and several military officials huddled by the windows gesturing in animated whispers. The holos of the remote members jerked and flickered as they handled interruptions and rushed to prepare. Aides hurried around in a bustle of activity which closely resembled pointless circles.

  Miriam simply crossed the room and took a seat. Her shoulders locked straight as she opened three small screens and proceeded to study their contents.

  Richard hurried in, both hands interacting with two separate aurals and only belatedly remembering to make sure his uniform shirt was tucked in properly. She spared him a tiny, sympathetic smile but didn’t otherwise acknowledge his presence.

  Alamatto cleared his throat loudly; it barely registered above the din. Again, to no avail. In frustration he slammed his palm on the table.

  “If we can bring this meeting to order…” he paused as those present scurried into some semblance of order “…thank you. First, I’d like to note that in addition to the regular Board members, we have present this evening Major Lange from Security Bureau and Colonel Navick from Military Intelligence in person and Defense Minister Mori and Deputy Foreign Minister Basak via holo.”

  He waited for the last person to settle on a location to stand. “As you’re all aware by now, approximately thirty minutes ago Trade Minister Santiagar collapsed and died while attending the Trade Summit on Atlantis. I don’t want to misrepresent any of the facts, so I’ll let those closest to the situation bring us up to speed. Major Lange?”

  Lange was a tall, wiry blond with pale blue eyes which connoted his strong Scandinavian ancestry. Miriam had worked with him on occasion and found him professional, if cold, and highly competent.

  He nodded brusquely at the General. “Thank you, sir. The incident occurred while Minister Santiagar and other senior officials greeted guests in an official receiving line before the closing banquet. Including staff, seventy-nine individuals were in the ballroom at the time, as well as another sixty-five in the entryway and hall area.” He flicked his wrist and a three-dimensional schematic of the ballroom and immediate surroundings materialized above the table.

  “The ballroom was locked down six seconds after the Minister collapsed, the wing of the convention center containing the ballroom twelve seconds later. All exits from the convention center were staffed and monitored within two minutes.” The schematic zoomed out to encompass the entire building and the exits lit up in red.

  “All spaceport departures are being held and searched beginning five minutes after the incident. Atlantis security has been extremely responsive. Despite the frivolous nature of the colony, they are a well-trained and professional department and I have every confidence in their ability to support our investigation.”

  He took a sip of water from the glass an aide had placed on the table. “Alliance doctors treated the Minister on the scene. He displayed no vital signs upon their arrival and was declared deceased after six minutes. Initial analysis indicates he suffered a cybernetics malfunction which triggered a neural stroke and brain hemorrhage. No other attendees have experienced health issues. Nonetheless, officers on the scene are investigating every possibility, including biological and chemical weapon dispersal, food tampering and remote cyberbomb delivery.”

  He gazed around the long table and to those standing along the walls. “Any questions?”

  Admiral Rychen, the Northeastern Regional Commander based on Messium, spoke up. “What about the guests? A lot of people were in the room. Could someone have slipped in?”

  “We’re obviously still questioning the attendees, but we have confirmed everyone present was on the official guest list or approved staff. At least one person present departed before the lockdown was complete, but I’ll let the Colonel speak to the matter.” He nodded to Richard, who stepped forward as Lange backed away.

  Richard coughed a tad awkwardly. She knew he wasn’t fond of speaking in front of large groups, preferring to work in the background if not the shadows. But matters were what they were.

  “Yes. Though preliminary, examination of the Minister’s body suggests his cybernetics were sabotaged by a s
elf-replicating virus, resulting in a forced overload designed to damage the brain.”

  “So he was assassinated then?”

  He glanced at the Defense Minister. “Yes, sir. It appears that way. We are pursuing every lead, but the primary suspect at the moment is Christopher Candela, a junior staffer in the Senecan delegation.” He displayed a visual of an unremarkable-looking man with dark brown hair. Looks were often deceiving these days, but the man seemed to be in his late twenties.

  “Mr. Candela was seen greeting Santiagar in the receiving line several seconds before the Minister collapsed. He left the room via a service door immediately thereafter. EAMI agents initiated pursuit and tracked him through multiple corridors before he vanished from surveillance cams, likely due to a cloaking shield. By that point the lockdown had been completed…” Richard was too polite to look over at Lange “…and the fields placed on the exits will disrupt cloaking tech, so it is unlikely he will be able to escape the net. An exhaustive search of the conference center is ongoing.”

  “Goddamn Senecans! I knew this Summit was a trap.”

  Alamatto grimaced at the holo of General O’Connell. “General, we don’t yet know anything for certain. Please, Colonel, continue.”

  “Yes, sir. Nine individuals attending the Summit did not attend the dinner: three reporters, five corporate executives and one of our low-level staff members. We’ve confirmed they didn’t leave Atlantis prior to the dinner and are in the process of tracking them down.”

  O’Connell spoke up again, though he appeared to be making a marginal effort at restraint. “How did an assassin get past your background checks, Colonel? I was under the impression EAMI had their spies all over this damnable Summit.”

  Miriam smiled to herself. Like many people, the General assumed Richard was a pushover due to his mild, nonthreatening demeanor. He was incorrect.