The Long Road Home (A Learning Experience Book 4)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “And a change of clothes,” Tyler said. “I wasn't sure what you’d want to wear.”

  Rebecca considered it, even though her head still felt hazy. “Diplomatic robes,” she said, finally. “We might be meeting non-human representatives.”

  “As you wish,” Tyler said. He gave her a concerned look. “Can you use the facilities without assistance? I can call a nurse ...”

  “I'm not that old,” Rebecca said. The nasty part of her mind was tempted to insist that he helped her to undress, just to see the look on his face, but she knew she shouldn't torment her aides. Tyler and his fellows had done a very good job, coming up with hundreds of possible scenarios for the coming discussions. “I’ll meet the captain in the teleport bay.”

  “I asked him to arrange a shuttle instead,” Tyler said. “I told him that you wanted to see the base from the outside.”

  “Thank you,” Rebecca said, gratefully.

  She headed for the washroom and stepped through the door. Her head spun again as she caught sight of her reflection, her face oddly unfamiliar ... she groaned in annoyance as she ran her hand through her hair. She’d seen her face - no, not her face; the character’s face - in the VR sim. She reminded herself, firmly, that she wasn't a teenage sorceress-in-training, but a sixty-year-old ambassador to an alien superpower. It wasn't quite the same, somehow.

  Despite the odd sense of unreality - the feeling stubbornly refusing to fade - she forced herself to undress and shower, allowing the warm water to run over her body. Her arm throbbed with sympathetic pain where she’d been grabbed, during a fight ... she caught herself rubbing it, even as the sensation faded away into nothingness. The dragons, the magic ... it hadn't been real. None of it had been real. The knife she’d taken through the chest - she glanced down at her pale skin just to be sure - hadn't been real either.

  There should be laws against using VR sims too frequently, she thought, as she turned off the water. Warm air billowed down around her, drying her bare skin. They’re dangerously addictive.

  She pushed the thought aside as she pulled on her robe, tied her hair back into a long ponytail and stepped out of the washroom. The Solar Union hesitated to ban anything, particularly something that posed no threat to anyone else. She could go to her canton’s council and demand a ban, but she doubted she’d succeed. Too many of the youngsters saw the VR sims as normal ... or, for that matter, regarded addiction as a sign of weakness. Those who fell into the VR sims and refused to come out should be left to it, away from everyone else.

  A message blinked up in her implant, inviting her to the main shuttlebay at 1524. She sent back a quick reply, then headed out of the VR chamber and back to her quarters. She’d reviewed the files on Hudson Base, of course, but there was just time for a quick refresher and a large cup of coffee. She was going to need it.

  And we’re not that far from our destination now, she thought, ruefully. I won’t have time to fall back into the VR world.

  An hour later, feeling moderately refreshed, she hurried down to the shuttlebay. Captain Yasser was already there, his face unreadable. Rebecca felt a flicker of guilt, mixed with a grim awareness that she needed to avoid the teleporter. She clambered into the shuttle and sat next to him as he ran through the pre-flight checks, then powered up the craft and guided it out into open space. He didn't seem to need a pilot.

  She glanced at him. “I didn't know you were a pilot, Elton.”

  He snorted. “We’re taught how to fly shuttles during basic training,” he pointed out. “It’s one of the standard requirements before you’re allowed to graduate and get unleashed on the universe.”

  Rebecca flushed. “Should I be trying to learn?”

  “It’s a useful skill to have,” the captain said. “There are training courses on the computer, if you’re interested. You never know when you might need it.”

  He moved them forward as Hudson - an Earth-like world, floating against the inky darkness of space - came into view. Rebecca watched, silently noting the sheer number of starships - almost all of them alien - coming and going, dozens blinking in and out of FTL every minute ... she shook her head in awe. Hudson was a neutral system, home to billions of aliens from hundreds of different races, yet it throbbed with more activity than Sol. It brought home to her, in a manner she couldn't ignore, just how far humanity had to go.

  And how badly we’ll be in trouble, she thought, if the Tokomak ever get their act together to crush us.

  Hudson - the name was a translation - was surrounded by thousands of orbital stations, ranging from giant industrial nodes to floating space habitats and asteroid settlements. She could see hundreds of warships from nearly every major interstellar power, brought together to guarantee the system’s safety and protect the thousands of starships that moved in and out of the system every day. It had been a major coup for humanity, she recalled, when the Solar Union had been asked to contribute a battle squadron to the local patrol. The nine cruisers holding position in high orbit, watching over the system, were proof that humanity had definitely arrived on the galactic scene.

  “That’s Hudson Base,” Captain Yasser said. Rebecca peered forward, finally spotting a large structure in high orbit. “They put her together out of prefabricated materials, rather than take the time to convert an asteroid or purchase a base from one of the other naval powers. Put a few noses out of joint, I believe.”

  Rebecca nodded. The files had said as much. Hudson was neutral, but the local shipping and engineering combines handled much of the construction work. They’d expected the human newcomers to pay for their services, rather than dragging prefabricated components all the way from Earth. But there hadn't been a choice. Too many Galactics were too keen on spying on humanity, hoping to steal some human technology for themselves. She still smiled whenever she recalled the story of the embassy humanity had opened on an unpronounceable world. The first security sweep, carried out after the building had been completed, had uncovered hundreds of bugs. It had been so overdone that some counterintelligence officers speculated that there had been at least three different galactic powers trying to spy on the embassy and its staff.

  She peered out the porthole as the shuttle flew closer to the giant structure. It looked like a wheel floating in space, although it wasn't spinning. Two giant freighters were docked to the outer edge, while three cruisers held position nearby, constantly sweeping space for potential threats. Indeed, there was a crudeness about the design that surprised her. She couldn't help thinking of something theoretical from the pre-contact era, when space stations had been little more than pathetic clusters of modules held together by spit and baling wire. It was easy to see why some of the Galactics looked down on humanity, despite the scale of humanity’s achievements. They’d all sprung from a single Horde starship that had been captured by sheer luck.

  Most of the other stations looked bigger, she noted. The Galactics had always thought big, even though their technology had remained stagnant for years. Their habitats were huge, bigger than the average canton back home; their industrial nodes were bigger still, turning out a constant stream of everything from starship components to colony settlement tools ... everything an interstellar civilisation might need. She wondered, as the giant base overshadowed the tiny shuttlecraft, if the locals were trying to unlock their fabricators. The Tokomak would object, of course, but even they might think twice about attacking Hudson.

  It’s a very useful world, she thought, as the shuttle docked. They’d be declaring war on the entire galaxy.

  “Welcome to Hudson Base,” Captain Yasser said. He rose and strode over to the hatch, opening it. “It’s been a long trip.”

  “Next time, I think I’ll just climb into a stasis tube,” Rebecca said.

  She looked out of the porthole as she stood, trying to pick out Odyssey among the other points of light in high orbit. It was impossible. For all she knew, she was looking at a star - or an alien starship. Odyssey was huge, with plenty of room for her crew and p
assengers, but ... she shook her head, telling herself that she should be grateful. Spending nine months on Odyssey had been heaven, compared to nine months - or even three months - on a cramped freighter or courier boat. She rather suspected she would have gone mad after spending even a week on a courier boat. No wonder their crews were regarded as weird by the rest of the navy.

  Two young women were waiting for them on the far side of the hatch, both wearing blue naval uniforms without rank insignia. Rebecca frowned as they saluted Captain Yasser, trying to remember what that meant. They looked young ... no, they were young. It was hard to tell, physically - there were too many middle-aged men and women who looked no older than twenty - but there was something about their attitude that told her they were genuinely young. They didn't have the odd maturity trapped behind a young face that she’d come to expect from her fellows.

  “Welcome to Hudson Base,” the leader said. “Please, will you accompany us?”

  “Of course,” Captain Yasser said, calmly.

  Rebecca walked next to him as they made their way through a twisting series of corridors. Hudson Base was immense, yet almost completely empty. Vast chambers were barren, as if the base had been stripped of everything useful; she saw no one as they walked, not even a single crewman. Her implants pinged the local network, picking up the presence of an AI in the system, but it didn't seem disposed to talk to her. It was almost a relief when they walked through a set of interlocking doors and into a much more homey section. Here, she could believe that the base was actually manned.

  “Commodore,” Captain Yasser said.

  “Captain,” Captain-Commodore Jenny Longlegs said. She was tall and thin, with long dark hair that fell down her back. She had a friendly smile, but Rebecca couldn't help noticing that it didn't quite touch her eyes. “Welcome to Hudson Base. I apologise for the long walk, but we’re not normally set up for guests here.”

  Because most people beam straight into the command section, Rebecca finished.

  “You are a long way from Sol,” Captain Yasser said. “Do you see many other humans?”

  “Only traders, save for the occasional convoy escort,” Jenny said. “Normally, I spend most of my time on my ship. The base has yet to be expanded into something more long-term.”

  She waved a hand at the table. “Please, join us for dinner. I’ve taken the liberty of having food prepared for you.”

  “Thank you,” Rebecca said.

  “Victoria and Cathy will bring it in,” Jenny said. She nodded to the two girls, who hurried out of the compartment. “They’re technically ensigns, but they’re unlikely to see service off this base until we can get them to the academy.”

  Captain Yasser leaned forward. “Local recruits?”

  Jenny nodded. “Their father was a trader - apparently, he was born into slavery but somehow managed to work his way up to command of a starship,” she said. “One of his distant ancestors was taken from Earth a couple of hundred years or so ago. They inherited his ship after he died, but ... it was seized shortly afterwards by the local authorities. I offered them posts on the base, as we were very short of crew.”

  “Decent of you,” Rebecca commented.

  “I prefer to think of it as practical,” Jenny told her. There was a faint hint of annoyance in her voice. “Besides, I do have orders to protect humans where possible. Giving them a chance to prove themselves is just an extension of that.”

  She looked up as the hatch opened, again. “The locals do use food processors, just as we do, but there’s a roaring trade in vat-grown meats,” she explained. “I’ve discovered that some of the local animals are quite tasty, if cooked properly. We’ve had a lot of fun experimenting with different spices and cooking methods.”

  Rebecca sniffed the air as the girls brought a large stew pot over and placed it on the table, removing the lid to reveal a reddish-brown mixture. She felt her mouth watering - the smell was heavenly - and took the bowl she was offered eagerly. Captain Yasser seemed less interested - she wondered, suddenly, if he had something against vat-grown meats - but he took a careful bite of his stew. Rebecca tasted hers, then started to wolf it down with bread and sour cream. The meat tasted like beef, but different. She couldn't put her finger on it.

  “You should sell this back home,” she said, when she’d satisfied her first hunger pangs. “It’s brilliant.”

  Jenny smiled. “It took months of work to get a tasty recipe,” she said. “I knew it wouldn't be poisonous, but ...”

  Her smile grew wider. “Taste isn’t something you can test for,” she admitted. “We’ve all had experiences where something that smelled good turned out to be inedible. My crews have a contest to craft newer and better recipes using local ingredients.”

  Rebecca raised her eyebrows. “Your crews cook?”

  “It's something to do,” Jenny said. She seemed amused by Rebecca’s surprise. “Hudson is an odd posting, Madam Ambassador. We are really doing nothing more than showing the flag. The most excitement we get here are the occasional convoy escort missions, none of which are particularly interesting. There really aren't enough traders out here to make it worthwhile.”

  “But showing the flag is important,” Captain Yasser said.

  “True,” Jenny agreed. “The Galactics don’t take us seriously. We’re still a very small power by their standards. We have to make it clear that we can and we will defend ourselves.”

  She shrugged. “But we’ll talk about that after dinner,” she added. “Now tell me ... what’s been happening on Earth?”

  Rebecca glanced at Captain Yasser, then sighed. “Civil war,” she said. “And no end in sight.”

  Chapter Seven

  I quite agree that we do not have an obligation to do everything for those less fortunate than ourselves, particularly those who have access to the same opportunities as us. But what about those who don’t? Can we justify doing nothing, for example, if a woman is held down by a patriarchal family? She has no hope of escape without outside assistance. Should we not offer that assistance?

  -Solar Datanet, Political Forum (Grand Alliance Thoughts).

  “I read your mission brief,” Jenny said, once the dinner was over. “I wish I was able to offer more help.”

  Elton raised his eyebrows. “You don’t know anything about the Harmonies?”

  “Very little,” Jenny admitted. “Something has happened in their general direction, but what? We don’t know. I’ve made a habit of collecting rumours passing through the system, yet ... we don’t have any solid answers. I’m honestly unsure why they bothered to send a message requesting an envoy. They certainly haven't tried to contact me.”

  “They might not have seen you as a senior representative,” Rebecca pointed out.

  “I am the local human representative,” Jenny said.

  Elton nodded in agreement. The senior officer on the spot, assuming there wasn't a dedicated diplomatic representative, had wide-ranging powers to talk to the locals on humanity’s behalf. Jenny couldn't have made any binding agreements, naturally, but she could certainly have sounded out any visitors and forwarded their concerns to Earth. And she could have opened up communications channels too, if necessary. The Galactics would have understood that, surely. They’d designed the interstellar diplomatic protocols.

  “I mean ... they’d expect an envoy of high status,” Rebecca explained. “Someone directly empowered by the Solar Union.”

  Jenny shrugged. “Realistically, we know very little about the Harmonies,” she said. “I have checked with a couple of my contacts, but they all agree that the Harmonies are a riddle wrapped in an enigma. They control much of the interstellar shipping market in their sector, freezing out just about everyone else. I’ve heard that their control has gotten tighter over the last few years. They’re risking the anger of the Tokomak if they keep going.”

  “They may already be risking their anger,” Rebecca observed. “If they threw out a collaborationist regime ...”

  “Th
eir borders are closed,” Jenny said, flatly. “I can’t tell you anything about their inner politics, Madam Ambassador. There’s certainly nothing I can vouch for.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve established friendly relationships with the planetary council and most of the other powers interested in safeguarding this system,” she added, “but the Harmonies won’t talk to me. We can't push it, either. This system isn’t under our direct control.”

  Elton frowned. “What is the political situation here?”

  “Calm before the storm, I would have said,” Jenny commented. She shook her head. “There are five gravity points in the system, each one allowing interstellar freighters to take hundreds of light years off their journeys. The Tokomak ensured that the system would remain neutral, allowing everyone to use the gravity points, but that may have changed now. I think it’s only a matter of time before one of the galactic superpowers makes a bid for the system. At that point ...”

  Her lips thinned. “We may have to retreat at once, without a fight,” she added. “My squadron cannot make a difference alone, while we don’t have the contacts necessary to convince the other powers to fight beside us. The local government doesn't have the firepower to control the gravity points as well as the high orbitals. Getting back home won’t be easy.”