by T. R. Harris
“I would like to officially announce the beginning of this conference and state at the outset that we are here for dual purposes,” he began. “The first is to investigate the incident that occurred recently off the planet Annadin, using this opportunity to study data from both sides, which until now, has been unavailable. The second purpose is to see if an accommodation can be reached that will de-escalate the tensions in an attempt to prevent what we all anticipate is about to begin—a new war between the Expansion and the Union. I will state here that the Expansion would not welcome a war with the Humans and their allies, although we are prepared if necessary. In light of the information I have surveyed to date, the facts seem indisputable: A Human warship destroyed a Juirean vessel without provocation, inciting a brief battle that costs the lives of Expansion members and the destruction of a total of four of our starships.”
“The Union also suffered loss of life and vessels,” Ambassador Euker stated.
“As a consequence of defensive actions on the part of the Expansion ships,” Quanin explained. “As I stated, the facts are incontrovertible. The Humans fired first and without provocation.”
“Councilmember Quanin, that fact has not been established, at least not by our side. All the data we have indicates that the Naples did not fire on your warship.” Euker waved her hand at the Juirean to stop his protest. “But I realize that is why we are here; to share information to learn the truth. However, I must caution that the Orion-Cygnus Union is fairly certain of our facts—just as you are of yours. Let us proceed with the evidence. After this, we will determine the proper course of action for both our sides.”
Adam noticed the veiled threat in the statement. The Juireans may be prepared for war, but so were the Humans.
“Very well,” Quanin stated. “For the presentation of evidence, I will turn the floor over to Overlord Oseem Ra Enock.”
The Juirean to Quanin’s left stood up, holding in his hand a small remote control. “The events so described were captured on a variety of electronic and visual records which I will now present,” the Overlord began.
Images appeared on the large screens at each end of the row of tables. There was a long-distance view of a grainy, dark shape set against the bright background of the planet Annadin. Adam could tell this was the Naples, viewed from several hundred thousand kilometers away through the clearness of space. A cryptic time stamp was on the image, displayed in Juirean time.
“Please observe.” Oseem began the video playback.
Nothing happened for a few seconds before a bright flash suddenly appeared near the silhouette of the starship. It was there for only a moment, and then it was gone.
“According to the record, this flare occurred only a few seconds before the explosion that destroyed the Juirean Class-3 starship, the UN-2212. This is evidence that the Human warship fired on the Expansion vessel without warning or cause.” The image shifted to an equally grainy and distant image of another vessel one Adam recognized as a Juirean warship of moderate size. Without narration, a massive explosion erupted from the dark shape and a moment later, the shattered debris had drifted far enough away that the glow of the planet erased any trace of the ship’s existence. It was gone and in the blink of an eye.
“Continuing,” said the blue-haired Overlord. “The UN-2212 was in the process of navigating around the path of the Human warship at the time, showing no hostile intent. Immediately upon the destruction of the vessel, other ships in the Expansion squadron took action to defend themselves. They opened fire on the Human warship and subsequently destroyed it with a barrage of accurate plasma cannon bolts. The battle at Annadin lasted only briefly, yet because of the proximity of all vessels, the damage was extensive. Following the destruction of UN-2212, three other Juirean vessels were destroyed along with a catastrophic loss of life.”
The Juirean scanned the silent faces along the other row of tables. “These are the facts, as recorded for all to see. There can be no argument. The evidence is clear.”
He sat down.
Ambassador Euker bit her bottom lip. “Overlord Oseem, I appreciate your presentation, yet there is an argument to be made. Our facts do not support your version of events.” She turned to her right, at a youngish-looking slender man in a well-tailored Human suit. “Mr. Robert Lorenzana will now present our side of the defense.”
The man stood up, he, too, holding a small electronic remote control in his hand. A data stream of readouts, copied from the memory of a ship’s computer, spread across the screen.
“These are the energy readouts from the Naples weapons systems. They were released only moments after the Juirean ship exploded and cover a five-minute period before the explosion. As I run the data, you will see that at no time does the energy level change, even during the time of the assumed shot fired from the Naples. Whatever that flare was, it did not come from the Naples. It could not have.”
“Your data could be falsified,” said Overlord Oseem.
“Please, my Lord, let me continue. We gave you the courtesy of not interrupting. I would expect the same from you.”
Sherri nudged Adam under the table. He knew why: Juireans did not like to be reprimanded, especially by Humans. The look on Ossem’s face was priceless.
“Could you please run the footage of the explosion of the UN-2212 again?” Lorenzana asked.
A moment later, the grainy image of the ship exploding came back on the screen.
“Please observe,” the Human began. “I would assume at the time the UN-2212 made its aggressive move across the bow of the Naples that its shields were fully charged. That would be standard procedure and one which had been observed during the numerous passes made by both ships in the days prior to the incident. However, as you watch the video, you will not see any of the panels glow, the result of the absorption of an incoming energy bolt. And now look again at a slow-motion view of the explosion. It erupts from a single point and completely destroys the ship. How could a single shot pass through your diffusion shields and destroy a Class-3 warship with a single bolt, and without the screens glowing?”
“We do not know what secret weapons your race employed,” said Oseem, seeing the question as an opportunity to reply.
“We have no secret weapons, Overlord Oseem. Believe me; if we did, then you would have lost your entire squadron and without any losses on our side. Not only that, but the question remains: Why would we do this? There have been shadowing maneuvers like this going on within the Zone for years, yet never has the Union—or the Expansion, for that matter—committed such a blatant act of provocation. Like you, we do not want war with the Expansion.”
“Then why is the UN-2212 gone?” asked Quanin. “There has been no evidence that the destruction of the ship was an accident, a generator explosion or such. We, too, had data feeds sent out from the UN-2212. All systems were normal. And then there is evidence of the shot coming from your vessel. That is too much of a coincidence for the two events to be unrelated.”
“I’m sorry, Councilmember Quanin,” said Ambassador Euker. “But as you see, there is a dispute regarding the so-called facts. You have yours and we have ours. The question comes down to who’s are the true facts of the incident?”
Adam and Sherri silently slipped away from the table an hour later when the discussion became overly repetitive. Both sides kept running the same video and seeing two different realities. Each had valid points to make, yet in the absence of new evidence, they were both right … and wrong. But they couldn’t be.
Adam and Sherri knew nothing was going to be resolved today, or even the next, or the next. That was fine. They were making ten thousand credits for every day the argument continued. They could live with that, as long as a shooting war didn’t result from the disagreement.
9
The treasure hunt continued, although with a limited modicum of success and nothing like they’d hoped. Riyad and the three SEALs scoped out another four banks over the next two days, finding one with about as
many Juirean credits as the first bank in Lasvic. The other three were total busts. Riyad knew the money was somewhere, probably at the homes of the bank owners or managers or hidden away in a cave somewhere. Either way, they didn’t have the time nor the resources to search too deeply.
They even took a quick jaunt to one of the larger cities on Annadin to check out the banks there. As expected, they were dry, having been cleaned out years ago.
On the third day, Riyad took the Charlie H. into orbit to scan for other potential towns. They had the most luck with mountain communities and ones with only one or two banks. It was while using the high-magnification cameras aboard the ship that he spotted the anomaly. After informing the SEALs, he dropped the ship back into the atmosphere and made a beeline for the spot.
It was on a level rock outcropping about two hundred meters square and at eight thousand feet elevation. Riyad set the Charlie down, and the team was off across the barren rock dressed in environmental suits a few minutes later.
“It’s some kind of rocket launcher,” Toby Wills reported. “And it’s newer. This thing came after Kracion’s attack.”
“But why?” Riyad asked rhetorically. He couldn’t see Toby shrug inside his suit.
The men moved around a twenty-foot long shiny metal tube, mounted in an elaborate cradle and pointing nearly straight up. A pair of small guidance computers sat twenty meters away, linked to the firing tube by wireless signals.
Peanut was standing near a stack of small circular bundles wrapped in cloth. “This isn’t a railgun type launcher, but more like a cannon. It almost looks like something you’d shoot fireworks with. These must be the propellant charges.”
“Fireworks … on Annadin?” Tim Robertson asked. “That doesn’t make sense.” He was at the targeting computers, linking them to his datapad. “Alien origin, but there’s a translation coming through.” He studied the data for a moment. “The launcher is designed to fire phosphorous bombs up to an altitude of about ten thousand feet above the launch site. That would still put it well within the atmosphere.”
“That makes sense,” said Toby. “Can’t have fireworks without oxygen.”
“So, what were they celebrating?” Riyad asked facetiously. “It’s a safe bet that salvagers didn’t bring this thing here. And I don’t see why MK would, either. But they have done some work on the planet, testing their de-con methods. Maybe this has something to do with that.”
“Hey, look at this,” Peanut said, pointing to the rock floor around the launcher. There were a series of footprints in the light dust. The tracks were fainter than their own, meaning they were older.
“About normal size—normal for us—and someone dressed in an environment suit. The prints look familiar.”
Peanut pressed his suit-covered shoe into the dust next to the mystery print then pulled his foot away. The tracks weren’t exact matches, but they didn’t have to be. Most species had a variety of environment suits, but the one thing they all had were distinctive foot patterns. Humans made these prints.
Riyad followed the angle of the launch tube into the clear blue sky, trying to imagine what the phosphorous bombs meant. It had to be a signal of some kind, a notice that could be seen across a quarter of the planet, if not more.
“I don’t know what to make of this,” he said. “What are Humans doing on Annadin? And if it was MK, I know there aren’t a lot of Humans working for them.”
“Well,” said Toby Wills. “The one thing this mystery doesn’t do is make us any money. We only have a limited amount of lifting propellant left to go along with our rapidly diminishing food supply. I say we get on with it. We can only check another two towns before its time to go back to L-3. Riyad, where’s our next destination?”
Riyad looked beyond the rock outcropping to the vast plains stretching into the distance far below the mountain. He pointed. “Down there, about a hundred kilometers.”
Peanut lifted his right arm and made a circular motion with his hand. “Let’s move out. Toby’s right. Let stay focused.”
Riyad took one last look at the shiny metal tube, knowing it was out of place on the dead world. Instinctively, he knew it meant something, although, at the moment, he couldn’t imagine what.
10
For the past three days, Adam watched as Councilmember Quanin’s face grew tenser, his mood more inverted. At the end of each session, he would move to the large portal leading to the sandy beach behind the bar and gaze out at the sunset. His eyes remained unfocused, and Adam got the impression he sought solitude during these respites, rather than the tranquility of the setting. After a few minutes, he would return reluctantly to the bar to join the rest of the delegation for the short ride back to the Kanac Spaceport and their starship hotels. Then the next day they would return for another grueling marathon of butting their heads against the wall.
It was the same for the Human delegation.
This evening Adam was positioned outside near the smoking grill when Quanin made his sojourn, hoping to have a conversation with the huge Juirean to get a sense of his thoughts. The conference hadn’t moved beyond the investigation stage and to the negotiations for a truce, while each side scrambled for more evidence to bolster their case. Adam was worried nothing would get accomplished and that a shooting war was on the horizon. He was anxious for any hint of what the Juireans were thinking.
“You look troubled, my Lord,” Adam said as he approached the Councilmember. A pair of guards—one Juirean and one Human—watched Adam but didn’t interfere.
The tall alien looked down at the Human with sadness in his yellow eyes.
“It does not take perception to read my mood, Adam Cain; however, I appreciate you noticing. Yes, I am troubled.”
The Juirean suddenly turned toward Adam, stepping in closer. “May I speak with you clearly and confidently? I know this is a lot to ask, yet for an odd reason, I feel a kinship to you that I do not have with even my own kind. I trust your common sense, as does the Elder.”
Adam was taken aback. He hadn’t expected such an honest, almost desperate, admission by the Juirean.
“Of course, you can. We’re all in this together, and unless progress is made during the conference, I worry about what’s to come.”
“As do I.” Quanin eyed the guards, his steady stare sending them back several feet and out of earshot. Then he turned back to Adam. “The information presented during the investigation has been slim and subject to various interpretations, as you have witnessed. In my capacity, not only as leader of the Juirean delegation but also with my eventual role as Elder, I have added responsibility to ensure the right decisions are made. I seek not simply an advantage over the Humans and your Union, but the truth. I refuse to be led to a conclusion based solely on loyalty to one side or the other. There is too much at stake.”
Adam raised his eyebrows and stretched out a thin grin. “I’m glad to hear you say that. That is the kind of thinking that will make you a great Elder.” Adam didn’t know if his patronizing was sincere or not, but it sounded good. He hoped he could be as objective as the alien.
“Again, I thank you. And in an effort to remain open and impartial, I sent out inquiries of my own. The information I have since received is disturbing and only adds to the mystery of the events.”
“What information, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I would not be speaking with you if I intended to keep these revelations to myself. My inquiry involved the fact that the UN-2212 exploded from a single point and without signs of energy bolt penetration of the diffusion shields. I found this data to be perplexing and incongruous with logic. Therefore, I sent an order for the surviving vessels of the attack to be inspected. I received the results only a few hours ago.”
“What were you looking for?”
“Bombs, Adam Cain.”
“And you found them?”
“Yes, we did. Small, but strategically placed explosives on the hulls of the other ships, well-hidden and difficult to loc
ate.”
“So, it was sabotage!”
“Lower your voice, Adam Cain,” Quanin scolded. “Sabotage may not be the right word. A covert action might be better.”
“But—”
“But this does not exonerate the Humans from the affair. Human agents could have placed the bombs on the ships.”
“Why place them there and only detonate one?” Adam asked.
“That is a question I cannot answer. However, at the time of the incident, only two vessels were engaged in the antics both sides were employing at the time. If all Juirean ships exploded, there would be no question as to the meaning of the event. There would be war.”
“And the flare?”
“Yes, the flare. That, too, is a question. But in light of the discovery of the explosive charges, it could be argued the flash was an added piece of evidence used to implicate the Humans.”
“You don’t believe we did this, do you?” Adam asked outright.
“I am beginning to have my doubts,” Quanin admitted.
“And the Juireans wouldn’t have blown up their own ship. So, who’s behind this?”
“Is the answer not obvious to you, Adam Cain? I suspect a radical refugee group is to blame. It is no secret they have been petitioning for an annexation of the Dead Zone for quite some time as a means of protecting their legacy rights to their homeworlds. As it stands, there is no abiding legal authority over the region. Any entity with the power can claim the planets, and the relatively small refugee population would have no means of contesting the action. And with the aggressive moves being made recently by Maris-Kliss and others, these refugee groups are growing more desperate.”
“But a war?” Adam said. “That’s a pretty drastic solution.”
“It will put an end to all action on their homeworlds, and eventually, one side would prevail.”
Adam shook his head. “It makes sense, but by the look of things, the refugees are making the Humans out to be the bad guys. Why would they do that?”