Aurora Renegades

by G. S. Jennsen

  Of those, three had achieved interstellar flight; two were Accepted Species, one Eradicated. Neither of the Accepted Species showed any recorded incidents of malfeasance. He nonetheless noted them for further investigation.

  The planet’s satellite orbited into view, and he shifted his attention to it. Artificial structures clashed with the mineralized surface in a series of crude lines and boxes, indicating the resident species had begun clumsily colonizing their moon.

  He proceeded to the lunar base.

  Signs of Eradication by the Theriz Cultivation Unit Advance Team were immediately visible. Some members of the native population had remained here when the Unit arrived, and they had been disposed of.

  …Yet a heat signature emitted from one of the tiny ships on the landing platform. The signature was solely excess radiation, as the engine was not active, and the ship was unoccupied. The remainder of the ships were long cold.

  One of the rodents had returned.

  Aver landed nearby and crossed to the base entrance.

  The air inside was not pleasant to his lungs, but a small amount of diati converted it to be so. He paused inside the entryway, seeking the indicia of a living organic being.

  Heartbeat twenty-three meters distant at 31.46°. Very rapid by mammalian standards. He advanced.

  The rodent, its skin covered in a short coat of silvery fur, huddled on the floor. Its talons were wrapped around a deceased member of the species.

  On seeing Aver, the rodent leapt up and backed into a corner while muttering meaningless squeals.

  “Who enabled your species’ departure from this system?”

  The rodent shook and shrieked. No apparent comprehension of the Communis language. Alas.

  Aver flicked his wrist, and the rodent’s neck snapped. It collapsed to the floor atop the body it had been grasping.

  He expanded his senses through the hallways of the structure to confirm no further life forms remained in residence, then teleported back to the landing platform.

  If the rodent had departed and returned, its ship, rudimentary though it was, may well provide the answers he sought.

  PART III:

  SPIRAL

  “Chaos results when the world changes faster than people.”

  — Will Durant

  15

  SPACE, CENTRAL QUADRANT

  * * *

  Abigail admired several characteristics of professional soldiers, as a rule.

  They tended to be supremely competent at their jobs, with skillsets that were narrow and specialized but quite crucial in certain circumstances.

  Below a level of officer rank—colonel, occasionally commodore—they did not profess to possess competencies outside those skillsets unless they actually possessed them.

  But three-quarters of the way through the forty-hour flight from Sagan to Romane, the characteristic Abigail most admired about them was that as long as lethal weapons were not currently being utilized in the vicinity, professional soldiers weren’t inclined to engage in unnecessary talking.

  She’d legitimately been able to work for most of the trip, as well as sleep when required and engage in several multi-party comms, all without intrusion or interruption. The trip had been, she’d daresay, productive in many respects.

  Not all, however. The unexpected livecomm from Alex Solovy was more disquieting than fruitful, and it continued to trouble her now, several hours later.

  “Abigail, hi. Valkyrie says hi, too. Truthfully, she kind of took over for a second there. She’s excited to get to talk to you. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out until now. Obviously a lot was waiting on us when we got back.”

  It had been a few months since they’d spoken, but she thought Alex sounded agitated. Jittery? “I completely understand. Vii has been talking with Valkyrie about your travels and filling me in, though I look forward to hearing your own impressions.”

  “What? Oh. I’ll…try to gather my thoughts on them. Soon. You’re on your way to Romane now?”

  “So it would seem. It was not exactly my choice, but Devon and Mia apparently believe I’m in some degree of peril.”

  “Good—I mean, good that you’re coming to Romane. Not the peril. Once you get here and settled in, I need to come see you.”

  “You’re always welcome, and as I said, I’d like to hear more of what you’ve seen.”

  Silence answered her.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Um…I may have gotten a few signals crossed in my brain. I’m not sure.”

  Now Abigail was positive she detected genuine distress. In the background, Valkyrie began sending her reams of neurological data, and she scanned it with half her attention.

  The Prevos had of necessity been created without research trials, much less long-term efficacy and safety studies. They had broken all the rules, because they’d had no choice. But the simple fact was, no one knew what the long-term effect of a Prevo connection would be on the human body.

  In the months since their creation, each of the original Prevos had pushed the technology in their own way, but based on what she’d learned, it was possible none had pushed it so far as Alex. The others welcomed the Artificials into their minds, but Alex was venturing deep into the Artificial’s mind, and in a way which Abigail had never intended or envisioned when she wrote the enabling code.

  “Vii told me about some of the upgrades Valkyrie has made. Do you suspect they’ve introduced errors or glitches into your Prevo algorithms?”

  She started checking the likeliest sources of such a glitch in the data from Valkyrie, then after several seconds realized Alex had never answered the question. “Alex?”

  “I think…I think I went too far and…I can’t seem to find my way back out.”

  She couldn’t begin to guess what Alex meant, but the turmoil and undercurrent of panic rang stridently in her voice. Abigail tried to convey reassurance in her own.

  “We’ll get it sorted out. Don’t worry.”

  ROMANE

  The transport landed at a private spaceport near downtown. Vii informed her Mia owned it, though she no longer actively managed it. Most of Abigail’s escort departed to check over the surroundings alongside another contingent of security who awaited them.

  Finally she was allowed to disembark. To her surprise, Devon Reynolds waited on her at the bottom of the ramp.

  She’d seen him in holos recently, so his more muscular, strapping appearance wasn’t a surprise; it nonetheless gave her a moment’s pause. “Devon, you seem…well. But I thought you were on Pandora.”

  “I was. But now it’s all going down, and a lot of it is going down here. So here we are.”

  “Ah, yes. How is Annie?”

  “Bossy.” He smiled, and for an instant a hint of his former geeky charm flashed in his bright lavender eyes. Then it was gone. “I apologize for the draconian measures, but we can protect you better here. This is only until OTS is dealt with, which will be soon, I promise you.”

  “I wasn’t doubting. Now, it’s been a long flight. I would appreciate it if whomever has been tasked to do so could escort me to wherever I’m to be ensconced.”

  “It’s not a torture chamber, Abigail. It’s a nice apartment with running water and everything.”

  “Devon.”

  “Right.” He motioned two members of the security detail over. “They tell me I can’t go with you—something about two targets and bullseyes and tempting fate. But I’ll be monitoring the situation.”

  “Thank you. Oh, Alex needs to visit once I’m settled in. Tomorrow morning, perhaps. Could you ensure it’s arranged?”

  “Visits are bound to be challenging, but we’ll figure something out.”

  SENECA

  Cavare

  Intelligence Division Headquarters

  Will Sutton collapsed onto the couch in Richard’s office. It was closer than his own, and he could spare only a minute to catch his breath.

  He wouldn’t deny he also took a degree of comfort
from simply being in the room. Though Richard hadn’t been at Division long, his husband had nonetheless made the space his own, if in subtle ways no one else would recognize.

  Will was going on two days of round-the-clock protection management for the two senators threatened by OTS, plus half a dozen others for good measure, and the work was far from done. Three assassination attempts had been made prior to the alleged deadline, which had now come and gone.

  The senators were theoretically safe and sound, as the reason for their desired deaths was now moot, but as outspoken Prevo supporters they weren’t apt to be genuinely safe for a while yet. In truth, not until OTS was eliminated as a threat, but certainly not until the current furor died down.

  The news feed on the wall reported what would, if the stars aligned correctly, turn out to be good news. The H+ bill had passed by a reasonably wide margin then was immediately signed into law by Chairman Vranas. Under the new law, restrictions on Artificials and licensing requirements for them were loosened considerably, while still keeping safety in mind. Or that was the idea, anyway.

  More controversially, the law affirmed Prevos’ status as human beings entitled to full protection under the Senecan Federation Charter and all Federation laws and regulations. The reality of the significant number of unlicensed Artificials attached to the Prevos was hedged around by a series of grandfather clauses and retroactive compliance procedures.

  It was sure to be messy in the implementation, but hey, everyone was making this up as they went along.

  In the wake of the bill’s passage, Delavasi had drawn down the extra Senate security, but it remained heightened above normal protocols and likely would stay there for weeks at a minimum.

  In fact, Will needed to be directing his attention to that in about two minutes—working out the details on an interim protection plan for at-risk senators for as long as OTS continued to be active.

  His eyes were closed and his forearm thrown over them, but he smiled as a message from Richard arrived in his eVi. Nothing noteworthy, as they didn’t share details of either of their work over comms for security reasons. Just a quick personal note, akin to reaching out and squeezing his hand. For the briefest second he imagined it as exactly such…which would have to do for now. Hopefully not for much longer.

  People thought because Richard wasn’t aggressive he wasn’t a warrior. They were wrong, and he had used the misconception to his advantage many times. But it also meant there were times when the man had to be the warrior more overtly; it came with the role.

  Combine it with Richard’s insanely strong streak of duty and loyalty and…well, for better or worse this fight should be concluded soon. He hoped it was for the better—better for Miriam, for Earth and for Seneca. Better for the Prevos, many of whom he’d developed an unexpected fatherly affection toward. Better for Richard.

  He stood and stretched, grabbed an energy drink from the small fridge compartment and headed for the door—

  “The scene outside Parliament is turning chaotic as protests grow over the passage of the legislation popularly referred to as ‘H+.’ Reports of a disturbance inside the building have yet to be confirmed, but—hold on. We’re receiving a communication from persons claiming to be representatives of the Order of the True Sentients terrorist group.

  “The statement asserts the group has taken Senators Garza and Viktin hostage inside the Parliament building. It says they will execute both senators unless H+ is nullified by 2100 Galactic two days from now. Stay tuned for more information as it becomes available.”

  What? Garza and Viktin didn’t even register on their radar. But maybe that explained why they’d been chosen. They were easier to get close to.

  The Division and Parliament security comm channels began lighting up.

  He reversed course and grabbed a second energy drink before leaving the office. Something told him he’d need it.

  16

  ROMANE

  IDCC Headquarters

  * * *

  From up here, the city below looked calm. Peaceful. Serene.

  It was a lie.

  Mia could feel the lie in her bones, in the foreboding creeping along the fine hairs on her skin. But mostly she could feel it in her head, where preparations were underway across Romane to meet the coming chaos.

  The Noesis ramblings and the RRF comm channel chatter wound in and out of one another, overlapping and occasionally interfering. Harper’s teams were joining forces with Romane civilian tactical units to set up blockades and buffer zones around the three largest protests—the ones which, as the second sun began to set, already hovered on the brink of turning riotous.

  Morgan acted excited at the prospect of getting to fly in-atmo, even if it was only in an observational and support capacity. This vaguely confused Mia, as she’d assumed Morgan loved to fly fast, and circling above a downtown area was not likely to be fast. When queried about it, Morgan had simply laughed.

  No extreme security measures were in place yet, though she imagined it would be quite difficult to get into the Headquarters building at this point, or any government or corporate building for that matter. Governor Ledesme had put the alerts in place, and all agencies and resources were ready to go.

  On the ground, this was Romane’s problem far more than theirs, but no one was bothering to pretend this wasn’t about the IDCC. About them.

  Devon: Everyone realizes this is OTS, right? They’ve hired a bunch of street thugs and muscle-for-rent to pretend to be ‘ordinary people concerned over the growing influence of Prevos.’

  Mia: I’m more concerned about why. The Romane government won’t be bullied into budging on Artificial or Prevo liberties, and everyone knows it. There’s no institutional weakness to be exploited. So are the protests a diversion? Cover for another move?

  Devon: Almost certainly, and we’ve got people trying their damnedest to find out for what.

  A small burst of flame sparked to life on the street below, three blocks from Headquarters. Vandalism. The crowds were doubtless itching to transform into rioters once the second sun set, and someone had jumped the gun.

  HarperRF: Requesting additional support from Romane Tactical at Carina Center. The crowd here just doubled in size.

  Commander Lekkas: Out of nowhere? Did they ship people in from off-world?

  Mia pinched the bridge of her nose. Probably. It’s going to be a long night.

  Mere seconds after the last rays of fading mauve sunlight disappeared below the horizon, the same horizon lit up anew, this time in red and gold. She rushed forward to press against the window in horror.

  Commander Lekkas: Explosion at Galaxy First building. I need all available emergency rescue personnel on site and fire suppression in the air.

  Well, consider the diversion theory confirmed. Dammit, they should not be able to do this. Not here. Not on Romane.

  Civilization had reached its zenith here. Shining. Advanced. Refined. Cultured.

  Now they wanted to tear it all down.

  In a corner of her virtual vision multiple cam feeds rolled as the protesters in the northeast quadrant of the city transitioned to full-on violent mob and glass began breaking. In her normal vision flames roiled out of the Galaxy First building. What were the odds it would be the only target to be hit tonight?

  A far more horrifying thought occurred to her. What if the Galaxy First bombing was the real diversion?

  SPACE, CENTRAL QUADRANT

  Romane Stellar System

  Kennedy clenched both hands in her hair and spun in circles down the aisle of the small transport. “Oh, no, no, no. The vindictive bitch!”

  She gaped at Noah, eyes wide. “I am so, so sorry. This is my fault. I never should have let your dad expose himself like this for me. It was foolish and overly brazen of me. I should have been more cautious.”

  Noah gave her an easy shrug, but she wasn’t buying it. His heart wasn’t in it. “Eh, a span in lock-up will do him some good. Toughen him up, and maybe, just maybe, ma
ke him appreciate how good he’s always had things.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  He massaged his biosynth hand with his natural one. It was a tic which had come with the new limb, and she knew it meant he was anxious, swagger or no. “I mean it a little. But…fine, I guess I don’t want him punished for actually doing the right thing for once in his life.”

  “Ugh!” She flung herself into a chair and hung her head. She always tried so hard not to use her family’s name or wealth in such a way that it harmed others, even inadvertently. And now she’d walked onto a stage and done precisely that, and in spectacular fashion.

  True, Lionel Terrage wasn’t exactly a common factory worker—but he’d put himself on the line so she could leverage her name for her own ends, and now he sat in police custody.

  “Hey….” Noah knelt in front of her and lifted her chin. “It’s not your fault, so don’t beat yourself up over it. He understood the risks, and he decided to take a stand.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. He kissed its tip…it really did make her feel better. But only for a minute. She had to make this right—fix it completely if she could. “I wonder if Miriam can help. After everything we’ve done for her, if she can, she will. I know it.”

  Noah nodded vaguely. “I agree. She owes you big time.”

  “Do you think the Aquila government would flip to her side? It’s very close to Romane, so might they be inclined that way?”

  “Honey, I left Aquila when I was fifteen. I don’t have the first clue about the inclinations of its government, then or now. But I bet Miriam Solovy does.”

  “Good point.” She was putting a message to Miriam together when the pilot came over the speaker. “We’ve reached Romane-controlled space. However, I’m being told all spaceports are temporarily closed to new arrivals.”

  “What?” She leapt to her feet.

  Noah frowned. “I’ll hit up Mia and try to find out what’s happening down there. You talk to the pilot about our options.”