Rogue Stars

by C Gockel et al.

  Alliance fighter jets featured considerably sturdier hulls than their Senecan counterparts. This meant, though more difficult to destroy, they were also slower and less agile. Several attempts to chase down the Senecan ships led to mountainside collisions when an Alliance fighter was unable to execute the hairpin maneuver its quarry performed to clear the treacherous terrain.

  Over 8,300 troops were stationed at the Forward Naval Base. Most of them were noncombat servicemen—ship and equipment technicians, engineers, administrative officers—and the remainder were troops who rotated through in tours on the frigates and supply and patrol ships which called the base home. Thus for fully ninety percent of the base personnel, there was simply nothing they could do to repel the attack.

  Many of the personnel present realized this and bunkered down in the most fortified area of the facility, an underground storage warehouse. In the end this kept the loss of life disproportionately low when measured against the destruction inflicted.

  Nevertheless a few soldiers, caught in the throes of battle-rage, charged onto the field of battle wielding shoulder-fired SALs. But even ocular implant-aided human eyesight could not hope to track the movements of a Senecan jet. One hundred percent of the shoulder SALs missed their targets; seventy percent of the wielders—exposed and in the open—perished.

  With the automated turrets eliminated, the sixteen Alliance fighters were relentlessly whittled down by the superior Senecan numbers. When the last one fell, twenty-six Senecan fighters remained to wreak havoc on the base facilities unimpeded. In thirteen minutes the attackers disabled or destroyed every structure more than forty square meters in size, save the massive headquarters building. They settled for blowing out all its windows and leaving two thirty-meter craters in its core.

  Mission parameters successfully completed, the Senecans bugged out, taking the easier corridor routes on departure. The orbital array weapons had by this point been obliterated by the frigates and they faced no resistance as they exited Arcadia’s atmosphere and docked with their carrier.

  All told, the 3rd Wing of the Senecan Federation Southern Fleet lost two of twelve frigates and ten of thirty-six fighter jets. Though the Arcadia base was not a Regional Command Center, as the closest military facility to Federation space it constituted a strategically and politically important location. In twenty-seven minutes it had been, for all intents and purposes, eradicated.

  39 Siyane

  Space, Northeast Quadrant

  By mid-afternoon the Siyane finally left the Nebula behind for the comparatively empty void of space. They had worked late into the previous night, a visceral, slow-burn panic driving her and him both forward.

  Alex had wanted to study the data captured, to try to understand what these aliens—or at least their ships—truly were and what they might be facing. Caleb, being the practical sort, had pushed her to first catalog, organize and summarize the data, so if nothing else they would be able to send the information out to others as soon as the ability to do so returned.

  Being still more practical, he had also forced her to sleep for a few hours—even if ‘sleep’ meant crawl in bed and proceed to toss and turn for the bulk of those hours. She couldn’t say whether he had taken his own advice and gotten any sleep himself.

  Breakfast had been fruit and warmed-up bread consumed at the data center; lunch, neglected. They slowly pieced together a coherent package which could be delivered alongside a brief summary and nightmare-inducing visuals, and waited for their connection to the rest of the galaxy to reappear.

  She raised a somewhat erratic eyebrow across the table at him. “So do you think we should lead with the panoramic shot of the seventy-eight superdreadnoughts or the enormous close-up of the synthetic tentacle creature from Gehenna?”

  He chuckled in response; it came out half-strained, half-weary and half-genuine. “When I was six years old, my dad called himself taking me camping in the mountains outside Cavare. I woke up in the middle of the night to find this kartinga—you’ve probably never seen one, but it’s sort of a cross between a tarantula and…an enormous locust—hanging in the air a few centimeters from my face. I say we lead with the tentacles. It’ll make a stronger impress—” He broke off mid-sentence. “We’re coming back online.”

  A second later her eVi lit up in a deluge of comms and data deliveries. Far more than usual came in marked ‘urgent’ or ‘priority’ or ‘important,’ and she had to override the force-loading mechanism before she got blinded by pop-ups.

  She picked out a recent message from Kennedy, because why not.

  Alex,

  Well, this is going to bollocks up all our fun, isn’t it? Whatever it is you’re doing that has you off the grid, stay clear of this mess, will you?

  — Kennedy

  What? With some reluctance she selected the most recent communication from her mother. It was marked ‘priority,’ but hers were always marked ‘priority.’

  Alexis,

  Wherever you are, you must realize it’s best if you come home now, for your own safety.

  — Miriam

  “Okay, what the hell is happening?”

  He held up a finger to silence her, irises jerking across an unseen whisper. She ignored her remaining forty-seven messages to watch him.

  Finally his eyes focused on her. They looked…complicated. “I think you’d better turn on a news feed.”

  “What is going on?”

  “I don’t even…just turn on the news, okay?”

  “Right.” She gestured toward the embedded screen on the opposite wall and tuned it to a generic Alliance news feed channel.

  “Again, we are reporting that in response to what they say is confirmation the Earth Alliance was responsible for the attack on Palluda, the Senecan Federation military has retaliated by destroying the Alliance Forward Naval Base on Arcadia.”

  “They did what?”

  “A spokesperson continues to deny the Alliance was involved in the Palluda incident or that it was in retaliation for the assassination of Trade Minister Mangele Santiagar last week. However, they—hold on, we’re getting word the Prime Minister is about to speak. Let’s go live to Earth Alliance Headquarters.”

  She sank back onto the edge of the data center as dread pooled in her gut, already sensing whatever followed was, in fact, going to bollocks everything up.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, citizens across Alliance space. As announced yesterday, we have irrefutable evidence one or more Senecan Federation officials perpetrated the tragic assassination of Minister Santiagar at the Trade Summit on Atlantis.

  “Likely anticipating our reaction, today the Federation has opted to falsely accuse the Alliance of attacking one of their colonies and use it as a pretext to launch a violent and destructive incursion against strategic Alliance assets. I am saddened to report over six hundred men and women lost their lives on Arcadia, a number which is likely to increase.

  “Let me assure everyone the Alliance was not responsible for the unfortunate incident on Palluda. Nevertheless, at this point it is obvious Seneca intends to provoke us into renewed war by any means necessary. We must and will defend all our citizens from aggression. Therefore, moments ago the General Assembly approved a formal Declaration of War against the Senecan Federation. We will begin mobilizing forces immediately. I will speak further as events warrant. In the meantime, follow the »SFWar feed for the latest information. Thank you.”

  “You have got to be kidding me. We disappear for five days and the galaxy goes insane? Now there’s an armada of alien ships at our doorstep and we’ve decided to start a war against each other?”

  He was pacing in agitation around the cabin, but didn’t respond. In fairness though, she hadn’t technically asked him a question yet. “Why would the Federation assassinate our Trade Minister?”

  “They didn’t. Why would the Alliance respond to a minor assassination by blowing up an entire colony?”

  “What do you mean, they didn’t? And weren’t you
listening? I don’t know what happened on Palluda, but the Alliance isn’t to blame.”

  He stopped pacing long enough to glare at her. “Alex, I’ve got classified reports coming in which state it was Alliance fighter jets bearing Alliance transponder codes and using Alliance communication protocols firing Alliance missiles on Palluda. Politicians lie.”

  “Of course they do. But Earth doesn’t want war with Seneca. I mean some people do, but the politicians can barely keep track of the colonies they do govern. And they’d never take such drastic action before spending three months debating it and forming four commissions to study it first. The real question is why Seneca so badly wants war with Earth.”

  “They don’t. We got everything we needed in the armistice: to be left alone to go our own way.”

  She arched an eyebrow in challenge and pushed off the table to meet him at eye level. “Maybe you’re no longer content with your little corner of the galaxy. Maybe you desire more influence and power.”

  Frustration crept into the creases of his eyes. A muscle beneath his left cheekbone twitched. “I don’t desire anything. If my government desired more influence it would start by persuading the nearby independents to join the Federation. Think about this logically, please.”

  “Oh, now we’re applying logic to government practices? Tell me then, logically, why would your government assassinate our Trade Minister?”

  “They wouldn’t. They didn’t. There’s always some nutcase championing a cause he’s willing to die for, but all the information crashing into my head indicates it was absolutely not officially sanctioned.”

  “Well it’s not like they’d own up to it once the Alliance has called their bluff.”

  “By destroying a farming colony? That’s low, even for them.”

  “So you say. Regardless, attacking Arcadia makes it quite clear Seneca does want war with Earth. They sent half their damn fleet to destroy one base—hardly a defensive action, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Not when it’s to disable the military facility posing a proximate threat to Senecan worlds and the presumed source of the Palluda offensive.” His brow drew into a tight knot above eyes squeezed shut. “My god, for being one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met, you can be blindingly stupid!”

  Her mouth fell open in shock. Or outrage. Possibly both. “How dare you—”

  Both hands rose in surrender. “You’re right. My bad. I’m sorry I said it.” His expression said he was sorry for saying it, but little else.

  He took a long, deep breath and seemed to forcefully will a portion of the tension out of his limbs, the pose of his shoulders and the set of his jaw. “Perhaps we should not fight our respective governments’ war for them here on the deck of your ship, and instead remember the real threat we’re facing.”

  For a few brief moments, she had forgotten. Now the crushing weight of what they had seen descended on her anew. She could feel her posture falter from it. “The invading army of giant alien monster ships.”

  “Yeah, those.”

  “Dammit, Caleb. How are we supposed to get anyone to listen when they’re busy blowing each other up?”

  His mouth opened, only to snap shut as he resumed pacing. He lapped the cabin once, twice before slowing to run fingertips along the top of the couch.

  She watched his lips quirk around as his eyes darkened, a shadow passing across them and refusing to leave. It occurred to her she watched him a lot. Watched him move; watched his lips move. She needed—

  “Stupid….”

  “Oh you are not seriously calling—”

  His focus jerked over to her, sparks of light dancing behind the shadow. “Not you. I…I really am sorry. You’re not stupid—in fact you’re kind of brilliant. You said it: there’s an armada of alien ships at our doorstep, and we’ve decided to start a war against each other? That’s not merely stupid, it’s improbable beyond all reason.”

  She frowned. “I agree it does seem rather ridiculous. But I’ve learned not to underestimate the sheer idiocy of government bureaucrats.”

  “Exactly. Politicians can be counted on to make rash, short-sighted decisions.” His pace regained speed, purpose now animating his steps between the kitchen table and the couch.

  Curious, she watched—again—and waited, until his gaze returned to her. “Look, the information I see is as close to the raw, unvarnished truth as you can get. It is not propaganda and it is not sugar-coated and it says my government did not assassinate the Trade Minister.”

  She blew out a harsh breath. She wasn’t eager to rehash the earlier argument, but she also didn’t intend to give in. “Well one of your government officials did.”

  “Yes. Granted. And maybe he was simply a lone crazy and that’s all there is to it. But then the Alliance blows up a farming colony, except they say they didn’t—and you’re right, it is out of character for them. And now in a matter of days—far too quickly for cooler heads to prevail—we’ve gone from improving relations to all-out war. And I have to wonder if anyone has stopped reacting long enough to ask why.”

  The world had flipped upside down upon the sight of the invading alien army, and once more at the revelation of this nascent war. Did that make things right-side up again? For a moment she couldn’t decide if he was a genius or delusional—or whether she even remained capable of telling the difference. “You think someone is manipulating events in order to provoke a war? You might be a tiny bit paranoid.”

  “I know. I’m just suggesting that coming into this from the outside it appears damn suspicious. Which brings us back around to the question, why now?”

  She suddenly felt an intense desire to get off the crazy train and return to reality, such as it was. “It’s possible the Trade Summit provided the first real opportunity. Or perhaps the answer to ‘why now’ is the Summit. There are plenty of people in the Alliance, and I imagine plenty on your side, too, who don’t want better relations between Earth and Seneca.”

  He seemed to still, as if all the energy of his movements came to rest within him. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

  The sharpness of his gaze speared into her. It left her feeling naked and exposed, but she refused to look away. “I didn’t say that. I only…Caleb, I don’t want war. I never did.” She swallowed. “Well not for a long time now anyway.”

  He smiled with unexpected softness. His eyes softened to match, transforming his expression to one of gentleness. “Okay.”

  His shoulders rose in a weak shrug. “And you’re probably right. It makes more sense for the Summit to be the trigger, and not anything to do with the aliens. It nonetheless means something’s fishy. We’re walking into an even bigger mess than we thought—and we’re about to toss a bomb into the middle of it.”

  40 Seneca

  Cavare

  Michael pulled the collar of his jacket up to his ears as he exited the restaurant. A cold front had moved in over the course of the afternoon, and the night air now carried a stinging chill.

  Nonetheless, he chose to walk the dozen blocks back to Division HQ. He needed the brief solitude—if one considered being surrounded by hundreds of pedestrians going about their business solitude—to get his head focused in the right direction. The dinner had been a brief but necessary departure from work, if only to make sure his father was doing well. Which he was. His father perpetually insisted Michael didn’t need to worry over him; it never stopped him from doing so.

  With the arrival of hostilities—a full-on war as of this evening—his teams were being pulled off the Summit investigation and re-tasked toward Alliance missions. Pretty much everything about the assassination still struck him as wrong, but he tried to convince himself it hardly mattered now. Events were moving fast; before long the assassination would be merely a footnote as the incident which kicked off a series of incidents which kicked off another war.

  Though he had a few people embedded in the Alliance infrastructure and its periphery, for the most part such long-term e
spionage missions fell under the purview of other sections of Division. Special Operations tended to undertake focused, directed actions in lieu of passive spying. Going forward those actions were to be targeted at Alliance interests. He bore no particular ill will toward the Alliance or its citizens as a rule, but war was war—and the visuals of Palluda were certainly disturbing enough to stir up a case of righteous indignation.

  He wove through the crowd materializing when a levtram arrived and its passengers disembarked. For the moment, life continued on as normal in Cavare, and the streets thrummed with citizens working, playing and transitioning between—

  His eVi signaled an incoming livecomm request from Caleb Marano. Huh. In the chaos which had been the last week he’d had no chance to wonder about the Metis Nebula mission. He started to put the agent off…but once he got to the office he expected to again be overwhelmed for many hours.

  “Agent Marano, it’s good to hear from you. As soon as you can get back to Seneca, your services will definitely be in demand.”

  “The war, of course. We’ll talk about it in a bit, but I’m afraid there’s a larger problem.”

  His pace slowed. “Larger than a war? You found something in Metis?”

  “You could say so. I found an army.”

  “An army? I’m going to need you to be more specific.”

  “A sizeable army of alien warships gathering. I’m sending a few visuals.”

  “Now is not the time for—” An image of a tentacled ship of obsidian metal with a red glowing core appeared on his whisper. It was followed by one showing an uncountable number of identical such vessels docked in rows along the hull of a massive—there was no scale reference, but he sensed it was massive—carrier ship. A final image pulled out to reveal dozens of such carrier ships.

  He came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the sidewalk, hardly noticing as pedestrians jostled against him then continued on their way. “I sincerely hope you are joking.”