by M. D. Cooper
“Hey, OK if I sit here?” a voice asked, jolting him back to the world around him.
Kent looked up to see a young man, perhaps just a year younger than him, standing in the aisle. Although there were dozens of rows with no one sitting in them, the man seemed to want to sit in his.
“Sure,” Kent replied, gesturing to the seat.
He worried that this man would want to chat during takeoff and the journey into space, but it wasn’t as though he could deny him a seat. Then again, this man’s accent pegged him as a local— he hadn’t met many people who grew up on Herschel and wanted to leave.
“So, where are you off to?” his curiosity got the better of him and he raised the question.
The man glanced at Kent and smiled as he settled into his seat. “Anywhere but here.”
Kent laughed in response. That was his sentiment, as well; the Orion Guard was just a means to an end—though a means which required a three-decade commitment.
“I’m Kent, by the way,” he said and offered his hand.
“Sam,” the man took it and gave a firm shake. “Thanks for letting me sit here. I’ll admit that I’m a bit nervous about this. I thought having someone to block the view out of the porthole would help.”
“You know that the covers slide down,” Kent said and demonstrated with a slight smile. His first flight of any kind had been earlier the same day, and he hadn’t realized the windows had covers either—until he saw someone else close theirs.
Sam laughed. “Well, look at that. I can move if you want.”
“No, no,” Kent replied. “I don’t mind at all—though I am curious where you’re really off to. Not a lot of people our age on this shuttle.”
They both glanced around the cabin at the other passengers, most of whom were off-worlders who had likely been on Herschel for business trips.
“I’m bound for Rega. I’m joining the Guard,” Sam said softly, trying not to be overheard.
Kent knew why Sam wouldn’t want his destination to be too well known. Though Herschel was a member of the Orion Freedom Alliance, the planet’s inhabitants had not been a part of the OFA’s separation from the Transcend, having settled the world long after the tumultuous fracturing of the Future Generation Terraformers. They were, by and large, an isolationist group, and while they were happy for the world the OFA had provided, they resented their recruitment of their youth to the Orion Guard.
Kent was less concerned with hiding his intentions. He had already been yelled at by half his family over his enlistment. As far as he was concerned, helping the guard stand against the tyranny of the Transcend was his civic duty—though it was secondary to his unbridled desire to simply get off-world.
“That’s what I’m doing, too,” he replied to Sam. “You’re heading up to Undala and the Tremont as well?”
Sam nodded. “I can’t believe I met someone else enlisting. It’s not exactly a popular sentiment around here.”
“Yeah, everyone here is so happy to live under the OFA’s protection, but without the Guard, we’d all be a part of the Transcend and its Great Plan for all of humanity,” Kent replied.
Sam looked around nervously, apparently used to backlash from such statements.
“They’re all off-worlders,” Kent said with a shrug. “They’re not going to come down us for enlisting—heck, they probably appreciate it.”
“That’s going to take some getting used to,” Sam said. “I’m used to getting yelled at for talking about heading off-world. Hells, I didn’t even tell my parents I enlisted.”
“Seriously?” Kent asked. “How are they not blowing up your Link right now?”
Sam chuckled. “I told them I was going to the mountains with some friends for a vacation—which is half true. I did go, but then I ducked out early. It’ll be awhile before they sort out what happened. By then, I’ll be long gone.”
“That’s rough,” Kent shook his head. “I didn’t exactly have the best parting with my family, but I’m glad I told them. I mean…it could be the last time I see them.”
Sam’s brown eyes grew sad. “Yeah, I know…look I know it’s not the best way to go, but I did say goodbye, they just didn’t know how long it was for.”
“Sorry,” Kent apologized. “I didn’t mean to come down on you for that. You did what you had to do. I know what that’s like.”
“Thanks,” Sam replied and leaned back and closed his eyes—apparently looking for a break in their banter.
Kent took the hint; he had stepped over a line. It was something he often did. Hopefully it would happen less when he was away from Herschel and its residents’ knee-jerk suppression of anyone with an adventurous spirit.
Outside, the bus was pulling away from the shuttle and he heard the dull thud as the cabin door closed and sealed. He sucked in a deep breath; it wouldn’t be long now before the shuttle rose into the air, as if by magic, floating on its grav drives before boosting into space.
He didn’t have long to wait before a nearly imperceptible shift reverberated through the shuttle. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his companion’s grip on the armrest tighten, and gave a small smile. Sam had better get used to it; there was bound to be a lot of spaceflight in the guard.
Outside the porthole, Kent saw the ground fall away, far faster than the feeling in the pit of his stomach told him it should. The incongruity disoriented him and he shook his head, forcing himself to relax. He knew that grav drives and inertial dampeners would accomplish such feats, he just hadn’t expected them to mask the feeling of motion so well. The disconnect between what he felt and saw was more disconcerting than he anticipated.
It only took twenty minutes for the shuttle to rise above Herschel’s atmosphere and into the blackness of space. The plas over the portholes tinted to diminish the blinding light of the twin suns. He wished he had thought to sit on the other side so that he could catch a glimpse of the stars.
“Damn that was fast,” Sam whispered, his head still back against the seat, eyes closed.
“Sure was,” Kent replied. “Shuttle’s net shows that we have a few hours to Undala Station. I hope they bring some food around.”
“Food?” Sam cracked an eye open and peered at Kent. “I don’t think I’ll ever eat again.”
“Seriously?” Kent asked. “We could barely feel anything.”
“I know! That’s what’s so weird. Half an hour ago we were resting on the ground…now we’re out here and if I didn’t know it was happening, I wouldn’t have been able to tell,” Sam said with a shake of his head.
“You realize that we’ll do this a lot in the Guard, right?” Kent asked.
“Yeah…I’ll get used to it,” Sam replied, with a steely determination entering his voice. “I’m not going back there just because flying feels weird.”
Kent nodded. “That’s the spirit.”
THE HEGEMONY OF WORLDS
STELLAR DATE: 05.30.8930 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Hegemony Capitol Buildings, Raleigh
REGION: High Terra, Sol System, Hegemony of Worlds
Uriel, President of the Hegemony of Worlds, stood at the window of her office, surveying her domain. Here, atop the capitol spire in New Raleigh on High Terra, everything seemed so peaceful.
The Earth hung above; the jewel of the Hegemony, rebuilt after lying abandoned and ruined for thousands of years following the Jovian bombardment in the late fifth millennia. Below the tower, with its arms stretched upward, wrapping Earth in its embrace, was High Terra—the oldest intact orbital ring humanity had ever created.
From here, the Hegemony of Worlds—often referred to as the AST, which stood for Alpha Centuari, Sol, and Tau Ceti, the three most powerful systems in the Hegemony—ruled over the core systems of humanity.
Uriel found it fitting that her offices were in the ancient Terran capitol buildings. The gravity of history bore down on her here, and she always kept in mind that the presidents of the ancient Terran Hegemons had ruled from this very room.
>
And even they had fallen, their empire destroyed by the Jovians.
It was a lesson she vowed never to forget—which is why she had chosen this site to house her administration.
Some still brought up the controversy she created when she moved the seat of power from Callisto to High Terra. She ignored them. From here, she could see the continents of Earth, she could make out the shapes of ancient nations, ere she was grounded in the history of the human race.
President Uriel sighed. Another day, another never-ending series of meetings with people within and without the Hegemony. Still, the Trisilieds Alliance was an up-and-coming concern. Their power was expanding throughout the Pleiades.
The star cluster was not a close neighbor of the Hegemony, its closest members were over three hundred light years from the Hegemony’s borders, but their wealth of raw resources made the nations of the Pleiades important trading partners of the Hegemony.
She expected the man, Mr. Garza, to be a businessperson of some sort, who Herin wished to introduce her to. The Trisilieds ambassador had never steered her wrong yet, and she looked forward to seeing what he had to offer.
She turned and walked to the front of her desk as Herin swept into the room, her long skirts trailing across the floor. The ambassador’s lips were painted a bright blue, it was Tuesday, after all, and so her hair and long eyelashes matched them.
The man who accompanied her was not dressed in the fashions of the Trisilieds, nor did he have the long hair of their gentry and aristocracy. Instead, he wore what appeared to be a simple military uniform, albeit with no markings.
“Uriel, it is a pleasure to see you once more,” Herin exclaimed as she bowed and spread her skirts wide before leaning in to lightly kiss each of Uriel’s cheeks.
Uriel quite liked Herin, even though she drew out and exaggerated every vowel that crossed her lips. The ambassador hid a keen mind behind what many in the core considered foppery. It had worked to her advantage on many occasions, and Uriel admired the effort Herin put into her facade.
“As it is to see you,” Uriel replied. “Always, and without fail, you brighten my day.”
“Why thank you. You are far too kind to such a lowly civil servant as I,” Herin replied with another bow before turning to gesture to her companion. “I would like to introduce you to Mr. Garza. He is a trusted advisor to our King and Queen and has a very interesting proposal for you.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Garza” Uriel replied and extended her hand.
He took it and gave a firm shake, confirming her suspicion that he was not from Trisilieds at all. Handshakes were not practiced there, having been deemed barbaric.
“And you, President Uriel of the Hegemony of Worlds,” he replied with a practiced smile. “Quite the pleasure.”
The way he spoke made it sound as though he thought of the Hegemony as a small backwater, quaint and of little note. She pushed the perception aside, determined to see what value Herin thought she would see in the man.
“Come,” Uriel gestured to a small seating area to her left where comfortable chairs floated in an intimate arrangement.
She reclined in a deep chair, and a servitor appeared, offering treats and an assortment of beverages. She selected the hot tea the automaton knew to have ready. Herin chose an alcoholic fruit beverage, and Garza picked a glass of water.
“Your communication was on the obscure side,” Uriel addressed Herin. “What would you like to discuss today?”
“I am merely here as an escort for Mr. Garza. However, before we begin, you must disable any recording devices and erect a suppression sphere over this area. What you’re about to learn cannot be shared with anyone—at least, not yet,” Herin replied mysteriously, a twinkle in her blue-lined eyes.
“That’s an unusual request,” Uriel replied.
“But necessary,” Garza said.
“Very well, you’ve piqued my curiosity,” Uriel said with a smile. A moment later, a hush fell over them, and she nodded. “We’re secure. What is it that you would like to tell me?”
“I represent the Orion Freedom Alliance,” Garza began. “You have not heard of us yet this far into the core. We control a sizable region beyond the Orion Nebula.”
Uriel chuckled. “This far into the core? Look out the window, Mr. Garza. That is Earth you see. This is the core. And what could your alliance possibly control beyond the Orion Nebula? If that region is settled, it must be very sparse.”
Garza nodded. “Earth certainly is a core, but that is a topic for another time. You are right about the sparsity of people beyond Orion, but it is not as uninhabited as you think. You know of the Future Generation Terraformers, yes?”
“Yes, I would imagine that everyone knows of the FGT from old stories, a relic of humanity’s past,” Uriel replied. Like many, she had always wondered if the FGT was still out there, though there was little evidence to support that theory, and she wasn’t going to let this man bait her into wild conjecture.
“Not so much a relic as you may think. I used to be counted in their ranks,” Garza said. “Not so long ago, in the grand scheme of things, I was an officer on a worldship.”
Uriel frowned at Herin. “What are you playing at here?”
“He’s telling the truth,” Herin replied, her voice and bio readings revealing no hint of deception. “Where do you think half the tech we’ve sold you has come from?”
“Then you’re FGT?” Uriel asked, not bothering to hide the skepticism in her voice.
“I’m with a group who has broken off from them,” Garza replied. “They now call themselves the Transcend, and we call ourselves the Orion Freedom Alliance. They claim to embody the original values of the FGT, but they are pretenders. They bear no love for the Inner Stars; they do not respect humanity’s heritage.”
Uriel was silent for a moment, aligning Garza’s words with her knowledge of history and of space beyond human expansion. His use of the term Inner Stars was of particular interest.
“If this is true, and I’m certainly not buying it yet,” Uriel began, “what makes you so much better than them? If much of the tech coming from Herin has been of FGT origin, it’s safe to assume you never fell, like the rest of us, during the dark millennium. You flitted off into the far reaches of space, leaving the rest of us to fend for ourselves.”
Garza nodded slowly. “I can understand why you think that. When we broke off from the Transcend, we were doing all we could just to hold our own against their aggression. The Inner Stars were in the depths of the eighth millennia’s depression. If we went to you for help, we would have made things worse. You would have been embroiled in a war you had no way of winning.”
Uriel inclined her head to show consideration of the logic and Garza continued.
“Only because a full-scale war would have been visible across the light years to the Inner Stars, did the Transcend back off and let us have our little corner of space. We have been building up ever since. Helping allies like Herin’s people to prepare for the inevitable war with the Transcend.”
Uriel pursed her lips. The thrust of his story made sense. Dozens of FGT worldships had once plied the black, and with a few notable exceptions, none had ever been found. They couldn’t have all just disappeared.
Most people assumed they had flown off to the far reaches of space to settle down—not that they had built empires beyond the rim of explored space. She remained skeptical, but was curious as to where this conversation would lead.
“Just how big is this little corner of space you control?” she asked.
Garza raised his hand and a holoimage projected from it. “This is the realm we call the Inner Stars.”
Uriel nodded, noting the features of the O
rion Arm of the Milky Way galaxy. The region of space was a flattened sphere spanning the three-thousand-light-year width of the Orion Arm, and the one-thousand-light-year thickness of the galactic disk. Close to the sphere’s center was Sol.
Outside the sphere, roughly thirteen hundred light years rimward and somewhat anti-spinward of Sol, lay the Orion Nebula.
“And the Transcend and…what was it, the Orion Freedom Alliance?” Uriel asked.
Garza expanded the view of his holoimage. It was now well over ten thousand light years across. A long swath of space, beginning in the Sagittarius arm of the galaxy, and wrapping around the Inner Stars and then though most of the Orion Arm lit up.
“That’s the Transcend,” Garza said.
Next, a section of space several hundred light years beyond the Orion Nebula was highlighted. It stretched deep into the space between the Orion and Perseus arms of the galaxy.
“And that is the Orion Freedom Alliance,” Garza added.
“You’re telling me that your two groups control what must be ten to twenty times more of the galaxy than all the nations and systems of the so-called Inner Stars combined?” Uriel asked.
Garza nodded. “Yes, though our populations are much smaller. We haven’t filled all the gaps like folks have in the Inner Stars. Here, trapped by other nations, you vie for every system and resource. Out there…well, we just go further out and find something new.”
“How is it that no one has bumped into you?” Uriel asked. “There’s not much of a buffer between you and us.”
“It’s becoming a problem,” Garza replied with a nod. “We influence perimeter nations heavily, but even so, we will not remain secret much longer.”
“So, now we come to the heart of it,” Uriel said as she leaned back in her seat and sipped her tea. “What do you want from me?”
“We need your help. We cannot defeat the Transcend on our own, and they are about to gain a power that will make them unstoppable. They will work their will on us and the Inner Stars, creating whatever vision of the future they see fit.”