by A. K. DuBoff
Oren picked up a stack of posters printed on plasheets and handed it to her. “Here.”
“What’s this?” she asked.
“For our next round of recruitment efforts. Put them up around the transit station, would you?” Though spoken as a question, it was clearly an order.
“Sure, of course.” Not wanting to seem overly curious, Lexi resisted the temptation to read the poster on the spot. “I’ll get these up tonight.”
“Also, expect another planning session tomorrow. Shena will get you the details.” Oren walked away.
Lexi sighed inwardly. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.
She’d been going through the motions for a while, but now the stakes had changed. People had died, and she’d been a part of it. It made her sick.
At least putting up the posters would get her out for a while. She grabbed the thermal stapler they used to affix the plasheets to the sides of buildings and then rushed out of the office before anyone could rope her into another task.
She waited until she was two blocks from the office before ducking into a side alley to read the poster. Her stomach turned over when she saw the text: ‘Join the fight for independence! Use your skills to start a new world free from the oppressive rule of the Central Worlds.’ Beneath the bold header lines was a list of specialist positions in various fields of biology, genetics, chemistry, and engineering.
Since when do we need people like this? The answer was obvious, as much as she didn’t want to admit it to herself. Those people would be very useful in designing and building weapons of war.
Fok! This is even worse than I thought. She was at a loss for what to do. Defeat started to edge in on her mind. The Alliance was already too big and powerful for her to have a reasonable chance of slowing them down, let alone stopping them. Even answering the relatively straightforward question of what had happened to Melisa was looking impossible for her to answer alone.
For now, she had a job to complete before Oren got suspicious. She bundled up the posters, put up her hood and pulled the cowl neck of her shirt over her face, and then resumed her walk toward the transit station.
What was extremely clear was that she shouldn’t offer any resistance if she didn’t want to end up disappeared or dead. She could run, but it would be a last-ditch move, and she would need to be certain she could live with the decision to never come back here. She wasn’t there quite yet.
Nevertheless, her worry continued to build while she hung up the posters along corridors in the transit station, keeping her face tilted down to avoid any potential cameras from getting a good look at her, despite her coverings. More people mean they’re going to do something even bigger. And why would they need those kinds of specialists?
She didn’t want to run, but she decided that she had to do something. The Alliance was too powerful and up to something too nefarious to leave unchecked. Yet, her options were limited.
Lexi needed help, and quickly. The obvious choice was to report the known crimes to the Guard. Though the Guard’s Enforcers were responsible for civil peacekeeping, she had yet to see them take meaningful action to address the situation. She didn’t trust them to follow through on whatever information she might give. Assuming she would only have one chance to send out a tip, she needed to make it count.
If not the Guard, then who? Part of her wanted to write the Taran High Council directly, but it was unlikely that would go anywhere. The TSS, on the other hand, would have a mandate to look into potential leads. Are they any more trustworthy than the Guard?
Ultimately, she decided they must be, simply because if they weren’t, then that would mean there was no one to step in and help. She couldn’t let herself believe that she was doomed.
The question then became how to reach out. There were plenty of reporting channels, from written correspondence to vidcalls. Some promised anonymity while others were designed for insiders to share information in exchange for witness protection. Neither option appealed to her. What she wanted was help—backup with the ability to get in deeply enough with her to get answers and then be in a position to do something about it.
Her only viable option, then, was direct contact. A personal plea. She couldn’t very well go offworld to the nearest TSS field office, but she could send a video message securely enough.
With the last of the posters hung, she began working her way back toward the Alliance office. Midway on the trek, she spotted a particularly secluded side street she’d been down before. It was likely the most private place she could get access to quickly.
Lexi jogged down the alley until she found a dead-end alcove between two buildings. No one was around. This is my chance.
She pulled out her handheld and began recording a video.
“My name is Lexi Karis. About a year ago, a friend of mine, Melisa Zedra, went missing. I tracked her to Duronis and found out that she had joined up with a group that calls itself the Sovereign Peoples Alliance. This is the organization behind the recent attack on the spaceport.
“The news reports about it being an ‘accident’ are lies put out by the Alliance itself with the intent of damaging the reputation of the High Dynasties. The Alliance says that the High Council has too much power and that we’re better off without it. Too much centralized power breeds corruption. Maybe they’re right, but I don’t think the Alliance’s methods to get out that message are in the best interest of the Taran people.
“I didn’t know what the Alliance had planned when I joined up; I only wanted to find my friend. This violence is awful, and I want it to stop. I’d try to leave, but I worry about what might happen if no one is watching from the inside.
“I don’t know if you can do anything to help, but I needed to say something to someone who might be able to make a difference. The Alliance is one part of something bigger. I don’t know how far it goes. All I can say is that I doubt Melisa is the only person to have gone missing.
“My branch of the Alliance is based in the neo-industrial district of Duron City, intersection of Meridian and Fairmont. They’ve started putting up ads for new recruits—all kinds of specialists, like molecular biologists and geneticists. I don’t know what they’re planning, but it can’t be good. Please, if there’s anything you can do, send help.”
Lexi replayed the message to confirm that she’d touched on the relevant points. It was all there. Her handheld may as well be a nuclear bomb.
Before she could lose her nerve, she sent the message directly to the contact for the nearest TSS field office and then scrubbed the evidence from her handheld. All she could do now was wait. Stars, I hope this is the right move.
— — —
The happy buzz from the successful contact with Earth hadn’t lasted as long as Raena had hoped it would. Though relations with that one planet were trending in a positive direction, conditions in the colony worlds near the Rift were quite the opposite.
“Our silent approach doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere,” she commented to Ryan as they sat down to their joint evening strategy session. It had become their daily ritual to debrief after their respective workdays and see how they could help each other with their overlapping governance responsibilities.
He shook his head and ran a hand over his dark hair. “It’s playing out just like your dad said it would. Saying DGE should be held responsible for negligence. It’s unbelievable people will swallow a story like that without any evidence.”
“I’m sorry you’re in this position. That we’re in it.”
“I want to make a statement so badly. What kind of leader stays silent after people have died?”
Raena nodded. “You’re right. I get what my dad was saying about how it could be spun, but maybe there’s something we can say to walk the fine line. I can’t stand seeing the Empire like this.”
She brought up the latest compilation of footage from the Outer Colonies. Her throat tightened as she took in the images of the riots spreading through the fringe wor
lds. We’ve been at peace. Why is this happening now?
It’s not like the years since the Priesthood’s fall had been wholly without discontent. Despite high satisfaction polls, there were always those who complained—an annoying regulation, a burdensome tax, an antiquated law. But no matter what might change, people would find something new to latch onto that needed fixing. Perhaps it was simply in the nature of people to find dissatisfaction. It could be an evolutionarily selected feature to make a person always strive for advancement. Get too content and complacent, and nothing gets done.
She didn’t have another explanation for what was happening, because everything—at least, on the surface—seemed to be going well.
“I don’t get it,” she muttered, shaking her head.
The statement was rhetorical, but Ryan responded, “It didn’t come from nowhere. The messaging is too uniform. Someone is driving this behind the scenes.”
“But why?” she asked. “This is the most prosperous the Empire has been in centuries. Why plunge it into chaos?”
“The usual reasons. Power. Pursuit of wealth. It’s not like these are respectable business people. When things are good for the rule-followers, criminals don’t have as many opportunities. Apparently, someone decided to do something about it.”
“You think a bunch of thugs are behind this?” Raena waved her hand at the videos of the expertly orchestrated protests.
“Not all criminals are ‘thugs’, as you put it,” he said. “Select criminal organizations are probably managed better than some dynastic corporations.”
“That’s an unnerving thought.”
“But it’s a reality that we need to be prepared to face.”
She massaged her temples with her fingertips. “We had enough to worry about with the Rift without adding this mess, too.”
“I’m certain that’s not a coincidence. Which is what makes me think these people must be well-connected and efficient operators. They’re smart.”
“It’s true. If I was trying to sow discontent with the High Council, I’d make a move toward Dainetris first. It sucks for us, but you’re the youngest leader by several decades and are still rebuilding the family name and business. A lot easier than trying to unseat an institution like Vaenetri.”
“And those opening jabs about Sietinen set the stage, given our relationship. Dragging Sietinen through the mud by association with Dainetris is probably the only way your family would ever get bad press, aside from the ongoing baseless complaints about the ties to the TSS.”
Raena sighed. She was sick of going over the same material time and again. Can’t they just believe we’re genuinely trying to do right by our people?
“I know it’s frustrating, my love.” Ryan reached across the table and took her hands in his. “We’ll get through this.”
“I know we will.” She paused. “Let’s prepare a statement and run it by my parents, grandparents, and the press team. We can express our condolences to the families of the people who died without taking responsibility. Say an investigation is underway.”
“There’s probably a way to word that to make it work.”
“I have some ideas. I’ll draft it up tonight and we can send it out for review—aim to release midday tomorrow.”
He nodded. “Sounds good.”
“All right, next issue…” She scrolled through the conversation points on her handheld. Before she could select an item, Ryan spoke up.
“Something you said a little bit ago got me thinking. You’re right that Dainetris makes the most sense as a target on paper, but DGE’s assets are actually very stable. There’s another High Dynasty that’s a less obvious choice.”
Raena set down her handheld as she caught on to where he was going. “Monsari. Stars, you’re right! They’re the ones that have the most to lose.”
“Is it possible they’re behind this unrest, to serve as a distraction?”
“I’m willing to explore every possibility. It would make sense, in a twisted way.”
Ryan leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “Celine Monsari was hedging during the council meeting, that’s for sure.”
“Even if this isn’t what they’re up to, there’s something going on behind the scenes that doesn’t bode well for the rest of us.” A shiver ran down her back.
“We need to be careful, Raena. Players this powerful don’t respond well to others getting in their way.”
— — —
Wil’s crash course in dealing with Earth’s politicians revealed that they were even higher maintenance than those on Tararia. What was I thinking agreeing to this?
Being the first Taran to be interviewed had made him the de facto face of the integration efforts, though he’d intended for Raena to serve that role. However, with DGE in the crosshairs, she had needed to return to Tararia sooner than he’d hoped. That left him to deal with the reporters and government officials.
The latest interview, conducted in English, was for an in-depth public relations piece called ‘Getting to know the Taran Empire’, or some such equally hyperbolic title. So far, the questions from the interviewer had been superficial, at best. Wil was playing along for the sake of making a good impression, but he hoped they’d get to some meaningful content soon.
The well-dressed man on the other end of the video conference nodded thoughtfully as he looked over his notes. “So, were the governments of Earth aware of what’s been going on?”
“Of course, the government is always in on it when there’s something of this scale,” Wil replied. Finally, getting to the meat of it.
“Nothing you’ve said made it sound like they were part of the coverup.”
“Well, not actively, perhaps. But they were aware of the truth. It’s no coincidence that humans set their sights on Mars more fervently than the moon, despite the significant proximity difference. The TSS had claim to the moon well before humans possessed the means to venture beyond the planet’s atmosphere, and we’ve made a point to discourage exploration and colonization. The exploration and settlement of the moon that is permitted stays as far away from TSS Headquarters as possible, and our presence is scrubbed from the records.”
“I can’t begin to guess how time-consuming and challenging that must be,” the interviewer said.
“Oh, extremely. And there have been several times when it seemed like it was inevitable the ruse would collapse, but it’s managed to persist.”
“I have to ask… Roswell?”
He smiled. “Yes, that was one of ours, though it didn’t happen quite how everyone thinks. It’s interesting, actually. There have been a number of leaders over the years who’ve vowed to make a formal disclosure of everything they learn about alien collaboration during their time in power, but not one has followed through on that promise. We—being the Taran Empire—haven’t outright forbidden disclosure, but we always lay out the case for why public knowledge of the Empire’s existence hasn’t historically been in the best interest of the people of Earth.”
“And why is that?”
“Because, before now, Earth wouldn’t have been granted a seat at the table. It’s a simple argument, which is why it was successful for so long. What it came down to is that once people found out about the Empire and all of the technology and mobility it could offer, they’d want to be a part of it. To have it so close and be denied would be torture. The world would tear itself apart, with groups blaming each other for being the reason Earth wasn’t allowed back into the fold.”
The interviewer’s brows drew together in thought. “Why the change of heart now to grant that role on the galactic stage?”
“It has become too time-consuming and expensive to maintain the old ways,” Wil admitted. “If global war breaks out, so be it. I’d be saddened, mind you, but I have more important battles to fight right now. Every culture needs a defining crisis. This will be Earth’s greatest challenge. Can the people unite for the sake of survival, or will petty differences prove too divisive to ov
ercome?”
“I hope it brings everyone together. I believe I speak for the planet as I share that sentiment.”
“It is my sincere wish,” Wil agreed. “What gives me faith is that many people have been learning to think for themselves. The more adamant official reports were that there weren’t aliens made people convinced that there was a cover-up. Funny how that works. It’s why, as a leader, I’ve always tried to be as open and transparent as possible. The more adamantly you try to get people to look one direction, the harder they’ll look in the other. So, the real secrets aren’t mentioned at all.
“Notice the stories of close encounters on Earth were all about little gray aliens, or reptiles in human skin-suits, or any manner of other exotic forms. But rarely were their claims of alien people who looked almost indistinguishable from humans; those stories existed, of course, but they were never the first thing that came to mind when someone said ‘alien’. So, the TSS and others charged with maintaining the secret were able to remain in the shadows. The mystique of the ‘men in black’ was the most notoriety we ever got, but even that was so warped from the reality of the situation that people became blind to the truth.”
The interviewer nodded. “The reality is so contrary to everything else. Most alien lore centers about Earth being an island, which exotic alien beings found and began studying humans like a novel species. But the knowledge that the Taran ancestors of Earth humans willingly gave up their galactic lives to be isolated on that island is a whole other matter. It flies in the face of the outward-looking mentality that is so important in modern culture.”
All right, I think I like this guy. Wil considered his response. “Everything is cyclical. We’ve seen vacillation between expansionist and isolationist cultural tendencies throughout the Empire’s existence. It so happens that Earth’s present interests align with the rest of the Taran Empire’s, so this is the best opportunity we’ve had for millennia to reunite these divergent branches of people.”
“I, for one, am looking forward to seeing what our people can share with one another.”