“Apparently, there was a coup on their homeworld last year,” Admiral Stuart said. “A strong party at court, we have been told, resented being dominated by the Tokomak. That party seized power shortly after the Battle of Earth. They haven’t exactly declared independence, but they’re looking to ... redefine ... their relationship with their former masters.”
Elton studied the starchart for a long moment. “A dangerous game, I would have thought,” he said. “The Tokomak could flood their cluster with warships, couldn’t they?”
Admiral Stuart sighed. “Yes, they could,” he agreed. “Elton, everything we know is nearly nine months out of date. The Harmonies could have been brutally crushed by now. But, at the same time, it’s possible that they managed to talk fast enough to keep some of their independence. The Tokomak wouldn't want to get involved in a war that would upset their other allies.”
He smiled, rather thinly. “ONI is divided on the issue,” he added. “One faction thinks that the Tokomak will crush the rebels as soon as possible, just to reverse the decline in their fortunes since the Battle of Earth. They have to make it clear that they haven’t lost the war, even if they have lost a battle. But another faction thinks that the Tokomak will reluctantly accept neutrality, if the Harmonies are prepared to stay out of the fighting.”
“I would bet on the former,” Elton said. “How many other Galactics will consider bolting if they think they can get away with it?”
“Good question,” Admiral Stuart said. “And that’s where you and your ship come in.”
He adjusted the starchart, zeroing in on Harmony itself. “We’ve received a message from the new king,” he said. “He has requested that we send an envoy to discuss opening up lines of communication, perhaps even membership in any future alliance structure. ONI believes that the Harmonies want to keep their options open, just in case their former masters decide to crush them.”
Elton stroked his chin, thoughtfully. “It seems a little odd,” he mused. “They’re taking one hell of a risk. It might panic the Tokomak into doing something drastic.”
“It might also convince them to leave the Harmonies alone,” Admiral Stuart said. “The king may hope to use this to get an official recognition of his kingdom’s independence. Or he may believe that working with us is the only way to safeguard the future.”
He shook his head. “You and your ship will be heading directly to the Kingdom of Harmonious Order,” he explained. “Officially, you’ll be transporting an envoy with authority to open discussions - everything from trade agreements to a formal alliance - and escorting a handful of freighters crammed with trade goods. Odyssey will be flagged as a formal diplomatic ship for the mission, although I don’t know how much protection that will give you in these times. The Tokomak may be fanatical rules lawyers, but they will not want to see us extending our influence in their direction.”
“Yes, sir,” Elton said. “And unofficially?”
“Unofficially, you’ll be carrying out a tactical survey of the region,” Admiral Stuart said, curtly. “We know - really know - very little about the sector. Everything we hear is at second or third hand. Much of it is translated repeatedly before it reaches us. In truth, we know very little. The merchants will be making their own inroads, of course, but we need more data.”
“Just in case we have to fight up there,” Elton said.
“Exactly,” Admiral Stuart said. “In particular, we want an assessment of the Harmonies themselves. Their fleet is supposed to be large, but outdated. Are they upgrading their fleets? Or are they gambling on numbers? Who crews the ships, how are they trained ... everything we might have to take into consideration, if we have to ally with them or fight them. And if they are upgrading, are they interested in buying weapons and technology from us?”
He looked at the starchart for a long moment. “ONI will give you a full briefing, but realistically ... don’t take anything they tell you for granted.”
Elton nodded. It wasn't uncommon for translation errors to creep into the files, even though the Tokomak had done everything in their power to make sure that everyone spoke one of nine standard languages. The average alien was no more or less intelligent than the average human, but aliens tended to think differently. ONI might be being misled - accidentally or not - and never know it.
And the time delay means that everything is out of date, he thought, sourly. The Tokomak might invade the sector tomorrow and we won’t know until we slip through the gravity point and emerge in the middle of a war.
“We’ll try and fill in the blanks,” he said, slowly. He knew better than to trust ONI completely. Intelligence officers had a tendency to think they were cleverer - or at least more knowledgeable - than they actually were. “I don’t know how long we’ll have to explore the sector, though.”
“I suggest you consult with the ambassador,” Admiral Stuart said. “Truthfully ... we know so little, Elton, that we have to be very careful. Showing the flag in the wrong place may provoke a war.”
“The Harmonies have their own subjects,” Elton agreed. He frowned as a thought struck him. “What happens if they choose to rebel?”
“That would be a sticky problem,” Admiral Stuart said. “Ideally, you wouldn't be involved at all. You don’t want to get us into a shooting war with the Harmonies as well as the Tokomak.”
“No, sir,” Elton said.
“The ambassador will have her own briefing,” Admiral Stuart said. “She’ll have wide latitude, within reason. Ideally, we won’t be making anyone any promises until we actually know what’s going on, but ... events may move out of control. Use your own best judgement and be careful.”
“Yes, sir,” Elton said. “And if the Tokomak themselves show up?”
“Odyssey on her own is unlikely to make a difference,” Admiral Stuart said. “Retreat at once.”
Elton nodded. He had every confidence in his ship’s ability to give the Tokomak ships a bloody nose, but sheer numbers could overwhelm them easily. The Solar Navy was all too aware that the Tokomak had literally millions of starships. If they ever managed to concentrate them against Sol, Sol was doomed.
And the Harmonies are far too close to Tokomak bases, he reminded himself. The Tokomak could muster the force necessary to strike them down at any moment.
“I understand,” he said. Retreat didn't sit well with him, but preserving his ship and crew was his first priority. “When do you want us to depart?”
“Two days,” Admiral Stuart said. He grimaced. “You’ll be passing through Hudson Base, at the far end of the Langlock Chain, but after that you’ll be on your own. We won’t expect you to report back for over a year.”
“Odyssey was designed for five-year missions, sir,” Elton said. “We can reproduce almost anything we might require in the fabricators.”
“A five-year mission,” Admiral Stuart repeated. He shook his head in amused disbelief. “Do you think, sometimes, that the cantons take their identities a little too far?”
Elton considered it. “As long as people can move out, if they wish, it doesn't matter,” he said. “A canton that manages to make itself unviable won’t survive. Roddenberry Canton has its quirks, but it isn't a disaster area.”
He smiled at the thought. Roddenberry Canton claimed to operate on the principles of Star Trek - and, if he were forced to be honest, it did a better job of following its source material than many of the other eccentric cantons. But then, it hadn't needed to adapt itself to changing reality or rapid depopulation when its citizens had discovered that their ideals didn't quite work in the real world. It wasn't for everyone, something that was true of just about every canton in the Solar Union, but it worked for those who lived there.
“There are worse places to live,” Admiral Stuart agreed.
Elton nodded. Admiral Stuart was in his second century, easily old enough to remember when humanity was confined to a single planet. His brother might have founded the Solar Union - and then departed for deep space, leavin
g his creation to flourish on its own - but neither of them had anticipated just how deeply their work would change society. Old constants, things that Steve and Mongo Stuart had taken for granted, had fallen by the wayside. Elton and his fellows had grown up in a very different universe. He wondered, sometimes, just how the oldsters coped. They just weren't used to rapid change.
And yet, they have seen so much, he thought. He couldn't help feeling an odd flicker of sympathy. Do they yearn for constants once again?
But there were none, not in the Solar Union. Space was vast, with near-infinite resources just waiting to be exploited. Food and energy were cheap. There were thousands of cantons, each one offering a different lifestyle. Humans - and aliens, and AIs - were free to choose their own lifestyles, as long as they honoured the founding principles. And they had flourished. The wellspring of science, art and entertainment seemed bottomless. No one, not even Steve Stuart, could have envisioned the universe he’d created. The future seemed bright and full of promise.
But there were threats. And those threats had to be fought.
Admiral Stuart snapped off the holographic starchart. “I won’t tell you that this will be a simple mission, because it won’t be,” he said. “But I expect you and your ship to handle it.”
“Yes, sir,” Elton said. He rose. “We won’t let you down.”
“Good luck,” Admiral Stuart said. His lips quirked. “I’ll see you when you return home.”
Elton nodded and walked through the hatch, passing through the security fields as he headed down to the teleport station. A handful of messages popped up in front of his eyes as his implants automatically pinged the local processors, ranging from tactical updates to a detailed briefing of everything ONI knew - or believed - about the Harmonies. He reminded himself to study the information later, as he stepped into the teleport station. He’d have to make sure his senior officers went through it too.
Except everything we know might be out of date, he reminded himself, sternly. Or it might be completely wrong.
He couldn't help a flicker of excitement. He was going to be taking his ship thousands of light years from Sol, heading further into deep space than any human had gone before. As far as he knew, he and his crew would be the first humans to visit the Harmonies, let alone establish diplomatic and trade links that might reshape the galaxy. It would be one hell of a flight, the kind of exploration he’d signed up to do. He couldn't wait to leave.
And if we do manage to make new friends and allies, he thought as the teleport field gripped him, so much the better.
Chapter Two
The Solar Union is for humans. Humans. Not aliens, not beings who are not like us and do not think like us. None of the so-called Galactics had the wit to use their technology to build a perfect society. They could have done, but they chose to stagnate instead. We should not dilute our uniqueness by bringing aliens into an alliance with us.
-Solar Datanet, Political Forum (Grand Alliance Thoughts).
Ambassador Rebecca Motherwell gritted her teeth and closed her eyes as the teleport field shimmered into life around her, feeling an unpleasant itching sensation spreading through her body. The engineers might claim that the feeling was harmless, existing only in her imagination, but Rebecca knew better. There were times when she would sooner have all her teeth removed, without anaesthetic, than willingly step into a teleporter. The timeless sensation of having her entire body broken down into a stream of energy - a sensation that seemed to last forever, as if she were permanently suspended in the matter stream - terrified her.
She opened her eyes, a moment later. It was always a shock, somehow, to find herself somewhere else, even though she’d been teleported hundreds of times over the last fifty years. The Galactics - and the Solarians - accepted it as normal, but Rebecca and her fellow Earthers found it harder to tolerate. It was easy, all too easy, to believe that she’d been killed and resurrected every time she’d stepped into a teleporter. Hell, there were people who steadfastly refused to teleport even to save their lives. They saw teleporting as a death sentence in itself.
“Madam Ambassador,” a quiet voice said. “Welcome onboard.”
Rebecca looked up. A young man was staring at her, his dark eyes clearly worried. Her implants scanned his tanned face and matched it to a file, identifying the speaker as Commander Rupert Biscoe, the starship’s executive officer. A stream of data flowed past her eyes, which she hastily banished with a thought. She’d have plenty of time to get to know the senior officers later, once the starship was underway. If nothing else, she needed to practice her conversational and diplomatic skills before reaching Harmony.
“Thank you,” she managed.
Biscoe still looked concerned. “I can take you to sickbay, if you wish,” he said. “I ...”
“No, thank you,” Rebecca said. She knew from experience that no doctors were able to help, beyond prescribing the occasional sedative. “I just don’t like teleporting, sadly.”
She caught sight of her own reflection, peering back at her from the wall-mounted display and sighed. No wonder Biscoe was worried. She’d put a great deal of effort into her appearance, trying to strike a balance that made her seem both fair and reasonable. Her dark hair was tied up in a bun, her face more matronly than beautiful ... her robe - modelled on the Tokomak dress for galactic ambassadors - drew the eye. And yet, her dark eyes were wide open, almost terrified. She looked like a woman on the run.
“Ah,” Biscoe said. “In that case, please allow me to escort you to the captain.”
Rebecca nodded, concentrating on calming herself. She knew she hadn't made a good impression. Biscoe hid it well, but Rebecca could tell he wasn't impressed. Most Solarians would have shared his view. They had grown up with teleporters - and countless other pieces of technology that were almost unknown on Earth. It was just part of their lives, something so mundane they didn't understand when outsiders questioned them.
She sighed, inwardly, as she stepped off the teleport pad. The chamber was smaller than she’d expected, probably reserved for the ship’s officers and their senior guests. Her staff would already be onboard, waiting for her. No doubt they were unpacking, then preparing themselves for nine months of utter boredom. Rebecca smiled, despite herself, at the thought of wasting so much time. There were files on the Kingdom of Harmonious Order, as well as countless other galactic powers. She intended to spend at least some of the trip reviewing the datafiles and trying to determine just how much could be taken for granted.
The Tokomak might be bastards, but we can trust them to record everything, she thought, as the hatch hissed open. There’s so much in the files, even the galactic databases we bought or stole, that analysing it all is the work of generations.
Odyssey hummed around her as she followed Biscoe into the main corridor. The gravity and lighting were Earth-normal, even though a number of cantons quietly raised the gravity to promote muscle development. But then, the Solar Navy wouldn't need such games. Their crews had the best bodymods humanity could produce, ranging from superior eyesight and hearing to increased strength, durability and neural linkage. It made her wonder, sometimes, just how many of them could be considered baseline human any longer. About the only thing that couldn't be improved was intelligence.
Because the sole attempt to breed a super-intelligent human went badly wrong, she reminded herself. And further experiments were banned.
Rebecca frowned as she passed a couple of cyborg crewmembers, their implants clearly visible on their faces. Her blood ran cold, even though she knew they were harmless. There was something wrong about seeing human flesh warped and mutilated by cold metal implants, even though she had the standard neural augmentation and enhancements. At least her implants were concealed under her skin. And yet ... something was nagging at her mind. It took her several minutes to put her finger on it. She should have seen many more crewmen as they walked up to Officer Country. The starship was surprisingly undermanned.
She glanced
at Biscoe. “How many crew are there on this ship?”
“Around five hundred,” Biscoe said. “We’re due to take on a number of researchers in the next couple of days, everything from astronomers who want to take a look at a handful of particularly interesting stars to cultural researchers who want to open up ties with galactic universities. I believe we even have a couple of students who are hoping to join those universities.”
Rebecca had to smile. “So you’re planning to show the flag everywhere?”
“Of course,” Biscoe said. He smiled with genuine enthusiasm. “Odyssey was never designed as a warship, Madam Ambassador. She’s intended to be the Solar Union in miniature, a multirole starship that showcases precisely what we can do. We can give foreign guests tours that show off without telling them anything that can be used against us. I’ve even been told that we can recreate our entire society, given time.”
Rebecca had to smile. “Really?”
The Long Road Home (A Learning Experience Book 4) Page 2