Ascendant

by Jack Campbell

  He nodded in reluctant agreement. “All right. I’ll try. Do your best to stay alive until I get back. Say hi to Dominic for me.”

  She gazed back at him, some unreadable feeling in her eyes. “May . . . your ancestors guide you safely home again. Take care, Lochan.”

  “You, too. And I still think you should marry that guy because you want that as much as he does but won’t admit it to yourself.” He ended the call, wondering how he’d ended up with someone who had come to feel more like a daughter than a friend.

  And wondering if he’d ever see her again.

  * * *

  • • •

  The captain of the freighter Oarai Miho openly glared at Lochan as the ship finally broke free of the orbital station and began its lumbering escape from what looked more and more like an impending war zone. “I don’t appreciate having my ship’s departure time held up for the benefit of someone with special connections. If my ship doesn’t make it to its next stop on schedule, we’ll have to pay the penalty, not the government of Kosatka!”

  “The warships don’t seem to care about this ship,” Lochan pointed out, thinking that threat must be what had the captain in such a bad mood. “They’re, what, about three and a half light hours from us? And heading for the jump point from Kappa.”

  That statement earned him another glare from the captain. She swung one hand up to the control deck display and touched a command. Long, long lines speared forward from the two enemy destroyers. A much, much smaller line appeared from the front of the Oarai Miho. “Those are vector markers, their length matching the velocity of the ship. Notice any difference?”

  “Yes,” Lochan admitted.

  “They’re fast hunters, we’re slow prey. Don’t you decide for me what to worry about!”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “I work for a shipping line that expects me to make my schedules! You’d better not expect any special treatment on this ship!”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lochan said. “I guess you’re not planning on returning to Kosatka?”

  “Of course I am,” the captain told him scornfully. “We’re merchants, not fighters. We’ll do business with whoever is in charge at Kosatka when we come back.”

  She turned away, the glares from other crew members on the command deck making it clear that Lochan wasn’t welcome there. Since he wasn’t interested in staying, Lochan went back to the closet-sized cabin assigned to him, one of a dozen identical cabin doors in a passageway running down one side of the crew area on the ship. The walls of his cabin were unadorned metal and composites, the ceiling not much more than two meters high, the bathroom a toilet built into one wall with a tiny sink set above it. A battered sign above the sink warned that all water use was metered and would be cut off if the allowed daily amount was exceeded. Freighters didn’t waste much space or money on passenger accommodations.

  The scramble to get approval to leave, get a room on the freighter, and get necessities packed had left Lochan physically worn-out on top of the emotional stress of leaving. Sitting down tiredly on the bench that would become a narrow bed, he saw the message light blinking on the pull-down desk. Hoping it was from Carmen, Lochan tapped receive.

  Instead, Brigit Kelly looked out at him, her eyes shadowed by worry, even the normally brilliant green streaks in her hair seeming subdued. “Lochan, I’m sorry I couldn’t catch you before you left. I’m staying here as my duty requires. I’m a neutral party, so whatever happens, I should be all right. I’m going to try to get reports back to Eire. The ship you’re on is carrying a report from me of what has happened so far and what’s expected to happen next. I’ve attached a copy to this message. Please download it and if . . . something happens . . . make sure the message gets to Eire. It’s not proper diplomatic protocol to entrust a message like that to a third party, but I know you can be trusted.

  “This is as bad as we’d feared it could be. Hopefully, it will spur worlds to action rather than scaring them into submission. My own people don’t scare very well. They’re going to want to fight when they see what’s coming. That may be small comfort to Kosatka if it’s already fallen by then, though.”

  She paused, her eyes looking outward as if searching for him. “You’re a good man, Lochan. I’ve been meaning to tell you that. I hope to see you again. Try not to get your fool self killed before then.”

  Lochan replayed the message before tapping the reply command. The freighter was still within a few light seconds of Kosatka’s orbital facility, but he was still surprised when the reply went live and he saw Brigit looking at him from the screen. “Lochan? You got my message?”

  “I did,” he said. “I’ll make sure your other message gets to Eire. I’m really sorry I didn’t have a chance to say good-bye in person.”

  “Don’t be thinking you’d have gotten anything special out of a good-bye,” Brigit warned him with a slight smile. “But I will miss you and worry about you.”

  “Same here. You’re going down to the planet, right? Staying in orbit could be dangerous if the facility is attacked.”

  Her eyes lit with defiance at the idea of running. “I’m neutral. They have to respect that.”

  “Shark is being towed to the facility,” Lochan warned. “If the facility is attacked before Shark’s main propulsion can be repaired, my understanding is the government intends having Shark act as part of the facility, using her weapons to defend it.”

  “She’d be a sitting duck,” Brigit objected. “Unable to maneuver out of a fixed orbit.”

  “Shark will fight as long as she can. Which means anyone in the facility could be in danger when the attackers shoot back. Particle beams don’t care about the diplomatic status of any person who happens to be in their path.”

  “True enough,” Brigit admitted with obvious reluctance. “I’ll consider moving down to the planet, though if they decide to bombard that won’t be any safer.”

  “They wouldn’t—” He stopped, thinking that maybe they would. The exact identity of the old Warrior Class destroyer that had bombarded Lares three years ago, and apparently sought to bombard Kosatka as well, had never been discovered. Rumors of those responsible had ranged from plausible accusations against Turan, Apulu, or Scatha, to the extreme of claims that it was a ghost ship whose crew had been driven insane by prolonged exposure in jump space.

  How had it come to this? The slow buildup of the insurgency had suddenly exploded into war in space and the threat of planetary invasion. Perhaps historians, looking back, would trace a clear pathway of steps that had led to this point. But at the time it had always seemed under control. Worrisome, problems to be dealt with, but not a full-scale war in which Kosatka seemed to be standing alone.

  “I’m sorry,” Lochan finally said, unable to think of anything else.

  “It’s my job,” she reminded him. “And you’re doing your job.”

  “If you run into any problems, you know Carmen Ochoa can help.”

  “The lass who works for your intelligence people? And how would it look if a diplomat was spending time with someone like that?”

  Lochan laughed briefly, surprised that Brigit could joke at a time like this. “Carmen is pretty resourceful. She’s a good friend to have.”

  “She’s a Red,” Brigit pointed out, then paused, waiting for Lochan’s reaction.

  He shrugged, having heard variations on that statement many times in the last few years. “Carmen came from Mars originally. That’s what she was. It’s not who she is.”

  “So I’ve heard. And the quality of her own friends speaks to her quality. I’ll look her up, Lochan. And you be careful. If Scatha and its friends have set things up this well here, they might have agents elsewhere whose duties could include making certain that someone like you doesn’t succeed.”

  Those last words chilled him inside. And yet it made a lot of sense.

&nbs
p; He’d felt guilty to be leaving others to face any upcoming fighting, but maybe he wasn’t going to be all that safe himself. “Thanks for the warning. I hadn’t thought of that. Are you . . . concerned about this ship?”

  Brigit Kelly made a noncommittal gesture. “Why would I worry about that ship? It’s owned and operated by a reputable company based on Hesta.”

  That was a double-edged statement if ever there was one, Lochan thought, since Hesta was firmly under Scatha’s control. Was that why, despite her words, the ship’s captain had seemed more worried about her schedule than about those Scathan warships here at Kosatka? “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

  “And you won’t be alone. Maybe you and one of the other passengers will hit it off if you find yourself in need of company,” Brigit said with a slight smile.

  “I don’t usually make friends that easily.” Lochan hesitated, wondering again about Brigit’s other words, what they meant as far as he was concerned. “I . . . I’ll look you up when I get back.”

  Brigit smiled politely and nodded. “You do that. I’ll look forward to it.”

  Afterward, he sat for a while staring at the blank display. Him leaving just as Brigit showed possible interest in him probably wasn’t a matter of bad timing. More likely she, and he, were reacting to the rush of events, which made it clear that everyone’s time was limited. That sort of thing tended to focus people on what they really wanted.

  Lochan finally checked the relayed data from the control deck, seeing how far it still was to the jump point that the Oarai Miho was heading toward. He lay down on the chair/bed, gazing up at the metal forming a ceiling for his room. He had a suspicion that by the time the freighter reached its destination he’d know every imperfection in that surface and would have rehearsed in his mind a few hundred times every conversation he’d ever had with Brigit Kelly.

  He’d thought he was safe once this freighter had left the orbital facility. But apparently he’d have to worry until he reached Eire.

  No matter what, at least he’d have time to catch up on his reading.

  * * *

  • • •

  Carmen woke up with a headache and a brief sense of confusion. It took her a moment to realize she was on the cot in the back room at work.

  She sat up, rubbing her eyes and feeling achy. Too many hours spent in this building, too many attempts to figure out what would happen next, too many dangers to even know what to focus on. She had once imagined that intelligence offices were like they were shown on vids, all-seeing centers where quirky individuals discovered important insights from the smallest possible clue picked up by the most amazing possible sources. The reality was more like this back room: dark, dingy, smelling of old coffee and too many people who hadn’t had time to get clean for too long, and a perpetual headache as analysts often unsuccessfully tried to fit too few bits of information into some sort of useful picture.

  Carmen gradually realized that the outer room was very quiet. Much more quiet than it should be with everyone working.

  She went to the door and looked out, seeing several men and women standing, silent, their backs to her.

  Walking up to them, Carmen saw what they were looking at. The big display had an image of Kosatka’s star system on it. A large symbol marked the orbital location of the crippled Shark. Another marked where Piranha was, only half a light hour from this planet, holding orbit while waiting to see what happened next. Farther out was a symbol for the freighter Oarai Miho still on its slow, steady way to the jump point that would allow it, and Lochan Nakamura, to escape this star system.

  All of that was as it had been for days. But something else was new. Nearly four light hours from this planet, the two destroyers, which had still refused to identify themselves, had reached the jump point from Kappa. As had been feared, other ships had arrived, jumping in from Kappa and heading to rendezvous with the destroyers that would protect them as the entire force headed for the planet.

  She spotted the somber face of her boss, Loren Yeresh, and pushed through the group to him. “How bad is it?”

  Loren shrugged as if no longer able to care. “Bad enough. Some sort of cutter along with several freighters and a big passenger ship that probably isn’t bringing tourists.”

  “How many soldiers do you think are aboard?”

  “It depends on a lot of factors, but our best guess is anywhere from several thousand to ten thousand.” Loren’s grimace held a mix of despair and grief. “That doesn’t sound like much to invade a world with, but they’ve also got however many troops the rebels can field. Given the size of our current population, it ought to be enough to take over.”

  “We’ve only got a thousand regular troops,” Carmen said, staring at the symbols on the display. “And, what, three thousand militia?”

  “That might be enough to stop them,” one of the other analysts commented. “Except that they’ll also have control of space around the planet. They’ll be able to bombard from orbit any place where we try to make a stand.”

  “Can Piranha—” Carmen began.

  “Piranha is outnumbered three to one,” Loren said. “If they hadn’t taken out Shark, we’d have a chance. But not at these odds.”

  “What’s the government going to do?”

  Another shrug. “As I understand, at the moment they’re debating whether we surrender outright to avoid tremendous destruction and loss of life or whether we put up the toughest fight we can to make their conquest of Kosatka as costly for them as possible.”

  Carmen had been sensing an odd feeling of familiarity as she stood among the others. As she spoke to Loren, she finally realized what it was. That old sense of helplessness and hopelessness that she had known on Mars, which had filled the atmosphere of Mars like a toxic perfume that never went away. Carmen had grown up among people who never spoke of success, or of winning, but only of what had to be done to survive. “No!”

  It wasn’t until everyone turned to look that Carmen realized she had said that.

  But it didn’t matter. Her anger flared as she looked at those dull, defeated expressions. “This is our home! And you’re all giving up? You’re not even thinking about how to win?”

  “It’s impossible to win,” Loren said in the tone of someone speaking to a child who couldn’t grasp a hard truth.

  “It’s not impossible until you give up!” Carmen shot angry looks at them. “I made it here! I survived! I won! And I will not give that up to anyone! If they want my home, they’ll have to fight for it. I don’t care what the government decides. I will fight!”

  Some of the others were videoing her with pads they weren’t supposed to use inside this building, but Carmen wasn’t worried about that. She shoved Loren, seeing fire in his eyes as he staggered back. “Are you giving up? Are you ready to surrender your freedom and this world’s future?”

  “Why fight if you can’t win?” he demanded.

  “I saw this on Mars! Don’t you understand? No one wanted to fight battles they thought were hopeless, and every battle that could make things better seemed hopeless.”

  “This isn’t Mars,” someone else said.

  “It can become Mars,” Carmen said. “A place where every dream is dead and force is the only law. Mars became like that because everyone there gave up. I gave up, too. That’s why I left. I’m not going to leave Kosatka.” Carmen paused to breathe, looking at those around her. “I’m not going to leave this new home, and I’m not going to surrender. I’m going to fight for it, no matter what anyone else decides.”

  Loren Yeresh shook his head, unhappy. “Carmen, you’re talking about dying in a fight you can’t win.”

  “No! Mars was too far gone. Kosatka still believes in freedom. We can win! Or we can go down fighting, and make Scatha and Apulu pay such a price that they will never dare attack another star system. That’s what I’m going to do,” Carmen said
. “I’m not running away from another world. I’m going to stand here. When people remember me, it will be as someone who died on her feet. I won’t kneel! I’ll stand. Will you stand with me?”

  Loren Yeresh frowned at her a moment longer before nodding. “I sure as hell will. Yuri? Did you get all that? Send it to the legislative chambers right now. I want our representatives debating what to do to see what this woman said.”

  “It’s only two-to-one odds,” one of the others said as Yuri sent the vid. “And destroyers don’t have much in the way of bombardment capability.”

  “If we hit them coming down, we could inflict serious losses,” a third added.

  “Figure out how to do that!” Loren ordered. “I want everything we’ve got on how our enemies might be planning to land ground forces on this planet. Once we have that we’ll start figuring out recommendations for how to hit those forces on the way down. Move it!” He bent a sharp eye on Carmen. “Well? Didn’t you hear me? We’ve got work to do.”

  She grinned at him. “Yes, sir. I’m on it.”

  As she dropped into the seat at one of the desks and started searching for data, Carmen felt a momentary qualm, imagining people watching that vid of her.

  But what the hell. She had far worse things in her past.

  Loren Yeresh bent down next to her as she worked. “Carmen? Where did that come from? I knew you were tough, but . . . man, that was something.”

  She paused, thinking about the question. “I spent my earliest years fearing that I’d die on Mars, a victim of the red planet like so many others. If I hadn’t fought back against those fears, I’d still be there. Then I spent years trying to become someone else, someone educated, someone who wouldn’t scare people the way a Red would. All that time I was afraid that someone would find out, would tell others. I had to overcome those fears. Now I tell people I’m a Red. Now I have a home where . . . I’m accepted as who I am. I won’t let fear stop me now.”