by Darren Beyer
“Mr. Andrews.” Erik approached. “What do you think?” He gestured derisively toward the F-44 combat fighter.
“I think you know.” Andrews jutted his chin and let out a non-committal grunt. He slowly tapped his cane. “A childish display. But what I think isn’t what’s important.” He gestured with his cane toward the assembled crowd. “What do they think?”
Many in the crowd shaded their eyes from the light of the late afternoon sun that streamed in through the huge steel doors.
“An afternoon rally in a west-facing hangar?” Andrews’ voice dripped contempt. “For God’s sake, the PA system is probably as old as the building. Didn’t that idiot learn anything in the first election?”
“Of course, his first run at the Euramerican Coalition presidency was his only political campaign.” Erik’s tone was deferential.
“A mistake on our part, choosing someone so green. And about that F-44,” Andrews cleared his throat. “You know what I put into it. I’m damned proud of it. The people here love it. But this is the Euramerican Coalition now, not the United States. The idiot doesn’t need votes in the States, and combat rhetoric doesn’t play in Europe.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” Erik’s Swedish accent became heavier.
“Too much is at stake. If the president doesn’t win Europe, he can’t win a second term. If he doesn’t win, then Operation Deliverance is finished. There’s no Plan B, no second chance. And this latest High Court ruling in favor of Applied Interstellar and Jans Mikel certainly didn’t help.” Andrews straightened and shook his head. “It’s up to us, Erik. I’ve funneled a hundred million into his European campaign and double that here in the States, trying to make him look middle-of-the-road. But speeches like this, backdrops like the F-44, old-school combat posturing—he’s just throwing my money down the shitter.”
The president began his closing comments, as Andrews strained to hear.
“I stand for good, old-fashioned conservative government. Whether you’re a Republican in the States, a Tory in Britain, a National Party member in Australia, or with one of the many conservative parties of the European continent, you can rest assured that as I enter my second term as President of the Euramerican Coalition, I will fight for your patriotic values and beliefs.”
Andrews grimaced.
“I will not flinch in the face of liberal attempts to undermine our authority. I will take the battle to the Outer Sphere, to splinter groups like the Nashira Brigade, to all terrorists that threaten our way of life, both on Earth and off.” He turned and gestured to the combat spacecraft behind him. “I will use all military at our disposal to protect our great Coalition. I ask you to join me in our battle to continue to bring conservative principals back to our government. We will keep the Coalition strong!”
Even as the crowd cheered, Andrews groaned inwardly.
“A fool can throw a stone in a pond that a hundred wise men cannot get out,” Andrews muttered under his breath. “I gave up running TSI to become a goddamned assembly member. I spent a fortune getting this dolt elected president the first time. Now he’s fumbling his second election, which should be a walkover in modern politics. It could all be for nothing. If that happens, my legacy will be lost.” He slammed his cane into the floor as Erik suppressed a wince. “In four years, he’s learned nothing!”
Andrews turned abruptly and walked to the hangar’s side door with Erik behind him, speaking softly into his comm. Swinging the door open, Andrews turned. The crowd had drawn closer to the podium, halfheartedly waving their red, white, and blue placards. The F-44 loomed over their heads, and the Florida afternoon sunlight around the great, dark shape was blinding. They appeared small and insignificant, the president of the entire Euramerican Coalition lost among them.
Scowling, Andrews limped out into the bright light on the tarmac. The familiar growl of a fuel cell greeted him, where a large unmarked corporate helo was in its initial wind-up. The sun-drenched concrete stood in stark contrast to the flat-black paint of the helo. Relying on his cane, Andrews ducked without thinking under the whirling ducted-fan blades, and stepped up to the waiting open door. Erik helped him in and took the seat across from him.
“What’s your no-bullshit assessment?” Andrews arranged his weak leg.
“If he wasn’t going for his second term, I’d say he wouldn’t stand a chance. You’re right about the Europeans. I don’t think he will win there. He is too—American.”
“I agree. We’ll put a few more points under him before the election. I’ll do everything except buy votes.” Andrews smirked.
Pensively Andrews turned and gazed across the ramp and the row of sleek orbital shuttles lining the tarmac. The helo rocked back and forth, then lifted off, and the lush Florida greenery soon gave way to flat, swampy terrain. A spectacular array of ancient, decaying launch pads dotted the Atlantic coast far below, each a light circle of overgrown concrete connected to the primary road by a single thin, white driveway.
Andrews tapped his fingers on his knees, staring out the helo window. He wondered at the technology that had led the first humans to strap themselves into tiny capsules and launch into space. That had been one hundred and fifty years earlier. In recent decades, humanity had finally left its native solar system and reached the stars to enter a new chapter of evolution—a chapter that Andrews and TSI had no part in writing.
Andrews scowled at his distorted reflection in the curved helo glass, as the view of aged ruins passed below. Everything had fallen into the lap of Applied Interstellar Corporation and its CEO, Jans Mikel. Technology had done more than progress for AIC. It had leap-frogged. Sometimes in history human ingenuity enables such meteoric advances. Sometimes it gets help. Something had given AIC and Jans Mikel that help: hyperium, and what—or who—else?
“I continue to receive reports out of Eridani,” Erik said as he turned toward Andrews.
Andrews looked toward Erik out of the corner of his eye and raised a questioning eyebrow. His top operative had an uncanny ability to gauge his thoughts.
“Our people are sure that AIC is hiding some sort of research base, but despite our best efforts, we can find no tangible proof. If our candidate does not win the presidential election this year, our window of opportunity on Eridani will close.”
“I’m pushing from every angle,” Andrews snapped. He let out a shallow sigh and turned to the view of the Atlantic coastline now speeding by. “But—goddamn it—he’s worse than he was in the last election. AIC is our most dangerous enemy. Jans Mikel must be stopped.”
“Perhaps it is time to try something less conventional.” Across the cabin, Erik turned and stared out the opposite side of the helo, west across the flat terrain of the Florida peninsula. “If we were to move up Phase One of Operation Deliverance—”
“Before the election?” Andrews shifted his full attention to Erik.
“You have told me many times that—”
“—nothing swings votes like a little fear.” A spurious smile grew on Andrews’ face. “That might be just the thing.”
Chapter 4
Eridani
What began as a royal blue crescent of the thin, backlit layer of atmosphere morphed into a bright white sun casting its light onto the planet of Eridani Prime. Jans Mikel watched the view unfold through the passenger window of the orbital shuttle as he waited for the de-orbit burn that would slow the sleek, hybrid air-spacecraft and drop it from low orbit into Eridani’s Earth-like atmosphere.
Jans’ worry was not driven by the fact that he’d soon be hurtling into the atmosphere of a planet fifty-seven light-years from Earth. Eridani had been his home now for nearly fifteen years, and orbital flights had become almost routine for him.
Jans couldn’t shake his sense of unease over the cryptic message from his head of security, which he’d received during the last, inbound leg of his eight-week return from Earth. The message had contained nothing of consequence: welcome home, travel safely. From most people, it would be
a simple greeting. From the old-fashioned pragmatist who rarely turned on his comm, though, it was a signal. Something was wrong on Eridani—very wrong.
As the planet Eridani rotated out of view, an almost imperceptible tug on his seatbelt got Jans’ attention. The shuttle entered the first of the de-orbit maneuvers that oriented it tail-first for its retrograde burn. The whine of the power-up of secondary and tertiary APUs filled the passenger cabin, where Jans rode alone. A sign illuminated, “Prepare for Thrust,” and within moments, the shuttle’s two SCORPION engines ignited. Jans was pushed backward into his seat, while the shuttle hurtled onto the path through the atmosphere that would carry it to the New Reykjavik Spaceport and Jans’ final destination—home.
The massive engines, having slowed the shuttle to its initial reentry velocity, throttled back. Although Jans again felt as though he were in zero g, he knew that he was falling rapidly toward Eridani. The attitude control thrusters fired, spinning the shuttle into the direction of its trajectory. Again the sign illuminated, “Prepare for Thrust,” and Jans felt the g forces of the engines slowing his descent. Their ducted thrust gave the shuttle time to bleed its speed and safely transition from orbital to aerodynamic flight. The one and a half g’s pulled on Jans. After two months traveling from Earth with only limited hours in thrust-induced partial g, he welcomed the comforting force that anchored him to his seat.
Jans craned his neck to peer out the window. Small vibrations and occasional bumps belied the shuttle’s meteoric entry into the thickening atmosphere. The curvature of the planet was still plainly visible, the royal blue sky imbued with pure white light from the Eridani sun becoming more vibrant. As the shuttle transitioned fully to powered aerodynamic flight, g forces subsided, dropping to Eridani’s nominal ninety-three percent of Earth’s one g. Below, continents sped by, as the shuttle blazed through the sky at a leisurely Mach Six. It rocketed away from the setting sun and fell into the atmosphere. The sky changed colors, its wash of purplish light flooding the cabin through the passenger windows. Jans had seen the stunning effect many times, and it never got old. At this time of year, dust storms in the desert across the sea from his home in New Reykjavik blew manganese-laden dust high into the atmosphere. The pure white light from the Eridani setting sun filtered through it, painting the sky with a palette ranging from deep purple to vivid red.
The sky began to darken again, and Jans unbuckled his seatbelt to make his way to the cockpit. The two pilots turned as he poked his head through the door.
“How long until we land?”
“We’re about to turn into our final approach. You can take the jump seat and watch from here.”
Jans had seen his share of landings from the cockpit, but each was still a wonder to him. He folded down the small seat, donned a headset, and strapped himself in. The sky in front of the shuttle was now nearly dark. Some brighter stars were visible, but it was Ascension, the Eridani system’s largest gas giant, that dominated the view. Visible to the naked eye as a small disk, it was close enough to lend its light to the night sky. Its silicate and iron gas mantle gave it a vaguely pinkish hue, and also hid a secret that Jans would give anything to protect.
“Orbital, three, November, echo. New Reyk Tower. Turn left to magnetic three-zero-zero and intercept approach. Cross TYREE at two thousand meters, two-hundred-fifty knots.”
The co-pilot acknowledged as the captain keyed the heading, putting the shuttle into a lazy turn back toward the sunset. The sun was now completely out of view, only a magenta glow along the horizon betrayed its presence. A wispy cloud layer above still caught the last of the sun’s rays luminescing against the darkening sky. The sea reflected the light of the purple clouds off the whitecaps of its wind-spun waves.
“You’ll never see anything like it anywhere else,” the captain said, gesturing toward the view.
“I proposed to Sophia on a sunset helo flight,” Jans said.
“Good thinking.” The captain smiled. “That’s a surefire way to get a yes.”
“One would imagine.” Jans smiled. “But I’ve asked her a dozen times, and she still finds ways to say no. She tells me I need to make an honest man of myself first.” Jans chuckled.
Sophia wasn’t as traditional as he was. To her, a ceremony and ring signified very little. All that mattered was what was in their hearts.
An indicator flashed on the holographic instrument panel, and the shuttle automatically veered into another slight left turn.
“New Reyk Tower: orbital, three, November, echo. Inbound on the approach,” the captain said into his mic.
Vibration, a slight rumble, and their deceleration grew tangible. The shuttle automatically deployed its air brakes and rotated its wings forward to their low-speed configuration.
Ahead, Jans saw a blurry patch of light: New Reykjavik. Even low and slow in its approach, the shuttle brought the city quickly into view. At the center of a sea of lights, six cylindrical columns thirty stories tall were connected by a central core and topped by a massive clear dome, forming AIC Tower.
The Tower would soon be Applied Interstellar Corporation’s new headquarters building. A modern architect’s interpretation of the Perlan of Reykjavik, Iceland, back on Earth, AIC Tower represented years of work and billions in expense. Jans could have built a more unassuming base, but corporate CEOs, politicians, and heads of state would be traveling trillions of kilometers from Earth to see him, so a grand first impression was a must. AIC Tower was nearing completion, a symbol of Jans’ independence from his corporate and political foes. The dome showed bright with an internal light, and the final rays of sunlight lent their pinkish color to the Tower’s cylindrical sides. Jans’ eyes followed the lines of one of the massive cylinders until they disappeared into natural greenery at the base.
Close to AIC Tower, temporary habs, little more than the equivalent of trailers, dominated the growing city, their rectangular shapes lined up like boxcars in a rail yard. They would be gone as soon as Jans could build proper structures. Beyond the Tower, construction was underway on a scale unmatched anywhere off Earth. Like spokes of a wheel, the main boulevards of the engineered city extended outward from the Tower, and the first circumferential maglev rail ring was fully lit. The inaugural ride was still weeks away. Its multiple cars were in unmanned cargo carriers, still inbound from the jump point in the outer system, but the track itself was nearly ready. Further out, Jans imagined multiple concentric rings bounding neighborhoods and shopping districts, a number of light maglev trains, and autocabs efficiently transporting the citizens of Eridani throughout New Reykjavik.
Two lines of white lights up ahead flanked the single runway of New Reykjavik’s infant spaceport. Soon, Jans hoped, more runways and taxiways would service the many transport shuttles that would be the lifeblood of New Reykjavik, bringing in people and supplies and exporting Eridani’s trade goods.
“Orbital, three, November, echo. New Reyk Tower. You are cleared to land.”
“Cleared to land. Three, November, echo.”
The pilot’s exchange with the tower brought Jans back to the moment, as the shuttle’s landing gear extended, further slowing them and pitching down its nose. The touchdown came quickly, runway lights streaming by either side of the shuttle. The end markers approached fast. Jans was sure that they wouldn’t stop in time until the drogue chute fired, rapidly slowing the shuttle to let the wheel brakes take over and neatly bring it to a full stop at the end of the runway. The sudden end to a reentry flight always made his heart race.
“Thank you for an excellent flight, both of you.” Jans smiled. “It’s good to be home.”
A quick taxi took the shuttle to the makeshift terminal, little more than a temporary hab with benches arrayed outside. The new terminal was across the tarmac, nearing completion.
As the pilots executed their power-down sequence, Jans made his way through the passenger compartment to the rear egress ramp. He disarmed the pyros and, holding the safety switch, released the pres
sure relief valve. His ears popped as the pressure equalized between inside the shuttle and out. Once the pressure indicator turned green, Jans opened a security cover and pounded the base of his hand on the large red plunger by the door. The ramp opened and folded down behind the shuttle.
A man awaited at the foot, his arms crossed. He represented a contrast to Jans in almost every way. In his looks, he was heavyset, his hair receding with age. His belly, once rippled with muscles now overflowed his waistline. Jans was tallish, middle aged. Even with his hectic schedule, he was able to keep his athletic build. The contrast carried beyond looks. Where Jans was a risk taker, a visionary, this man was pragmatic, old-school, and Jans’ perfect number two.
“Danny Dagan,” Jans said with a smile over the din of the spaceport tarmac.
“Jans Mikel,” Dagan replied expressionless in his deep, resounding voice. “I should ask how your trip went, but I know the answer. The victory in the High Court of Earth was reassuring. Yet the news networks were not kind, and your testimony in front of the Assembly was, shall we say, uncomfortable to witness.” In all his time on Eridani, the native Israeli had lost neither his thick accent nor his directness.
“It was more uncomfortable in person, I can assure you.” Jans had to smile.
He wished Sophia could have made the journey to Earth with him. Having her there would have made his presence in the Assembly bearable, at least. Sophia's stoic French composure and subdued nature commanded respect wherever she went. Her silky, dark hair, not quite black, soft features, and light skin commanded Jans’ attention whenever she was close.
“Still, the High Court ruling was a huge victory, Danny. We’re now officially a hyperium monopoly—a sanctioned, natural monopoly. Before this all started, I never even knew such a thing existed. It’s going to cost us, but at least we maintain control.” Jans took a deep breath. “And I got your message. You didn’t meet me just to tell me how bad I look in front of a camera.”