Border Worlds (United Star Systems Book 1)

by J Malcolm Patrick

Aaron’s heart jumped. Shepherd must realize he was searching for his crew! He swallowed the lump in his throat.

  His voice trembled. “I’m on my way, sir.”

  ****

  Aaron rehearsed his argument on the way to Shepherd’s office.

  Why can’t they just give him some time? They weren’t in some interstellar or galactic war for the survival of humanity. No sudden appearance of genocidal aliens threatened their existence. Surely, a wounded officer deserved this luxury.

  On arrival in the Admiral’s command suite, before Aaron could fire off his rehearsed argument, Lieutenant Delaine almost shoved him into the Supreme Commander’s personal office and left.

  Time . . . the most valuable and most wasted resource in the universe.

  The Supreme Commander cleared his throat.

  “I’m sure this is all strange to you,” he said. “Secret meetings with the Supreme Commander. The insensitive timing of our inquiry and cutting short your recovery. Firstly, Commander, your file didn’t mention resourcefulness. I didn’t think you could find out about Lee and Alvarez. They’re alive and well and assigned to my command as well. They’re on a covert mission under the authority of the USSF. My personal authority really. A completely off the books mission. Do you understand where this is leading?”

  He tried to breathe—his chest tightened—it felt like someone was tightening a rope around it. He lowered his head, rubbed his stinging eyes. “I understand, sir. They’re alive. I’m sorry.”

  The Supreme Commander motioned for him to sit. “For what? I know Trident weighs heavily on you. That, I’m afraid you will deal with on your own. With the support of your former shipmates of course. But we have to focus here and now. Shall we begin?”

  He nodded and sat in the couch against the bulkhead.

  “Good. This one is close to home for you. For some time now, Intel has been monitoring a separatist movement in the Atlas system. Atlas Prime and Atlas Secundas. These two worlds are the core strength of the Border Worlds Alliance, the epicenter of their economy, industry and military. Then there’s the Empire. Anything you thought you knew about them, their succession from the United Star Systems and the resulting interstellar war—is based on our tainted version of that event and a carefully manipulated history of the events leading up to it.

  “Here’s a summary of the complete unaltered version, from our sealed records, which I am prepared to show you if you wish.” Shepherd clasped his hands in front of him and leaned forward. “As you’re aware, 105 years ago, just prior to joining the United Star Systems, the Border Worlds Alliance was already a powerful and influential independent Alliance of tech-5 star systems. Their membership greatly increased our own security and force projection along our frontier. Particularly during a volatile time when fifteen of our former worlds in neighboring sectors to Atlas Prime, had just declared independence from the United Star Systems and formed the Baridian Empire.

  “The formation of the Empire led to twenty-five years of extreme tension between us and ultimately the first real interstellar war. The United Star Systems at the time mistakenly believed the Empire could not challenge us in any significant way. We were very wrong. The next ten years saw them drive us off our frontier. They moved deeper into our territory, taking many deposits of critical resources, valuable oceanic worlds and annexed several independent tech-5 worlds. These worlds at the time were in discussion to join us. The Empire was relentless. With limited options remaining, we threw everything we had into the war and halted them in the Nova system. While the fighting stalled them at Nova, two top-secret pieces of technology neared completion. The first truly stealth-capable warship capable of high warp-factors, which finally put the Imperial systems in striking range, without needing nearby staging areas.

  “The Fleet sent everything against the Empire in the contested systems while five prototype warships warped behind enemy lines, destroyed swaths of Imperial shipyards, and struck their home system of Hosque over a six-months long campaign.

  “The heavy losses sustained by the Imperial Navy, and the reduced capacity of the Empire to replace the ships they were losing, was a huge victory for us. We sent the Imperials a message that day. We had the ability to strike at will deep within their systems. The fighting for those final six months was also so intense and costly in lives and ships, that although they would never admit it, both sides in fact sued for peace.

  “The past 70 years there has been an uneasy truce and much bitterness remains on both sides. A lot of powerful families, people, corporations and citizens within the United Star Systems took a hard slap in the face and tensions and skirmishes have fueled a constant hatred on both sides. Only back channel negotiations have kept us from engaging in another war.

  “This past year, some of the internal rhetoric from high within the USS has given me cause for concern. Ships are disappearing along the border between the Empire and the United Star Systems. We blame the Empire, some blame the separatists on Atlas, and the Empire of course blames us. I’ve been ordered not to deploy Fleet assets to the Border Worlds on any kind of fact-finding mission. My only order was to assemble a response fleet to defend the Border Worlds and ensure the Fleet is ready for war.

  “This goes beyond my authority. In fact, USSI should be trying to determine the nature of this threat, but perhaps just as my hands are tied by civilian oversight, theirs may be as well. I’ve assembled a team myself and I want you to lead them into the Border Worlds. We’ve made contact with an individual on Atlas Prime who claims to be a high-level member of the separatists. We’ve established a pre-arranged time and place to meet with this contact. The individual claims to have evidence of a conspiracy within the United Star Systems and to know who is responsible for the attacks along the Border Worlds.

  “Tensions are almost as high as they were before the last war. All it will take is some rash action or poor decision by either of us and this next war might set us all back to the Stone Age. Our back channels between our respective diplomats have closed. Even my counterpart has threatened to shut off communication with me. The threat is real, and it is with a heavy heart that I tell you, this may be our last chance to prevent a war. As of two days ago, scouts detected a large Imperial fleet warping for the frontier. Our response fleet consists of three battle groups, at least a couple dozen ships strong, and Intel suggests a similar number from them.”

  Aaron leaned back in his seat. The life of a starship captain was simple compared to the dangerous games governments played with the lives of their citizens. The machinery of the “system” now played out on a galactic scale and the universe was its playground. No matter the century, some things just wouldn’t change.

  If power was a drug, then it was the most addictive drug known to humankind.

  “Sir, if neither side is responsible for the disappearance of those ships then someone else must be.”

  “That, Commander . . . is correct. And that is your mission. The separatist movement is powerful and well organized. Although they haven’t resorted to violence, it may only be a matter of time before they adopt more extreme methods. We’ll take this meeting, but there are no guarantees. Incidentally, it seems either you forced this unknown element’s hand during the incident at Orion, or they’re ready to act. You and most of your crew are the first survivors of one of these attacks. The first to transmit any real data on them and provide us with conclusive proof that an unknown instigator is responsible. Your assignment is complicated, just as the Baridian Empire all those years ago sought Independence, the separatists desire the same and it seems they are keen to entice other United Star System worlds to join them. That makes the Border Worlds and particularly the Atlas system volatile now. That is a very dangerous future. If we fracture, there will be no other interstellar force capable of keeping the influence of the Empire at bay.”

  That last part troubled Aaron the most. If the Empire could impose its way of life on other worlds, then the known universe was about to become a despo
tic place.

  The Empire had legalized slaves, exotic drug use and spatial weapon research. The latter of which was banned by the United Star Systems three hundred years ago. Such weapons could destroy the fabric of the universe. Yet for such backward ideals, it seemed to be an attractive ideology for some people. Intel suggested there were no serious crimes within the Empire—they dealt with criminal offenders swiftly and harshly. Additionally, they possessed a strong and powerful economic base and fielded a well-funded and capable space-navy.

  The common illegal slave trade existed throughout outlaw space—pockets of unaligned star systems who made up their own rules. Some United citizens even engaged in slave trading for quick profit. Ordinary slaves received the worst treatment and had absolutely no rights. However, Imperial slaves were different. Although they didn’t earn wages, the Empire allowed them to raise families, work normal hours, own a small section of personal land, and their owners provided them with adequate amenities. They simply weren’t free to move around as they pleased, or to choose to do anything else, other than carry out instructions and repay the debt they owed.

  Some people argued the free citizens of the United Star Systems were not that different from Imperial Slaves. In the USS, you might live and work in the same place for the majority of your life. Instead of receiving amenities from your employers, you received a wage, which was yours to do with as you pleased. In some instances, depending on the individual, this could be anything from money well spent, to indulging in drugs, prostitution, and other negative activities. You were free to engage in practices which brought about hardship in your life, or which brought great joy. You had a choice. And many argued that free will is what separated the life of an Imperial Slave from that of a USS citizen.

  They argued that the fundamental question was; whether choice was important enough to justify the resulting chaos created by some cross sections of the free citizens of United Star Systems society.

  Aaron believed it was.

  There could be no justification for barriers to freedom. If you chose to commit a crime against the State or someone else, the State had laws that dealt with you. That’s how a free society protected itself while still allowing its citizens their freedom. Otherwise, life was meaningless.

  “Sir, what theories have we tossed around for the Border Worlds trying to pit us directly against the Empire? To emerge as the new interstellar power? I guess what I’m asking is—what do they gain?”

  The SC shook his head. “Our speculation is dangerous without more facts. That is one likely scenario among others. A war between us and the Empire would severely weaken us both and galvanize the support of the undecided civilian population in the Border Worlds Alliance to break away from us. The Border Worlds would be the next major power. I almost wish it is the Border Worlds fueling tensions, and that the rumors of a conspiracy with the USS are just that—rumors.”

  The final question was obvious to Aaron. His selection to lead this mission was strange at best. “Why do you think I’m the right candidate for this particular assignment, sir? Why not some other specially trained intelligence operative?”

  “I don’t think, Commander . . . I know. If there is a conspiracy within the USSF, we have no idea who they are or what their objective is. I’ve taken extraordinary measures to keep your mission secret. Only a handful of persons besides your team are aware of it and your movements from here will flow naturally. We don’t want anyone detecting any hint of Fleet Intelligence interacting with our Border Worlds contact, nor any elements of Fleet personnel. It’s likely the contact’s safety is equally compromised. Your recent encounter works in our favor. The record will show you were dishonorably discharged from the Fleet. You abandoned your ship while under fire, without first attempting a defense and deserted your crew. We’ve altered your file to reflect this. The backup I sealed contains the original version and I’ve stored it in my office, not available on any network. When you return from your mission, despite the outcome, all will be as it should be, and your role in this mission recognized. That and being a Border Worlds citizen makes it an obvious choice for you to return there after being discharged from service.

  “Some of your team will meet you on Rigel with an equipment package obtained from unofficial USSF sources. Nothing you carry can be traced back to the Fleet. Another member of your team—my operative—will greet you when you leave my office. You will get familiar with her on-route to Rigel. She will give you more operational details. And, Commander, she is my most trusted operative—you will take care of her and heed her guidance. But I have no doubt she will be taking care of you. She’s an intelligence expert. You think only starship captains keep the USS safe? No, son, a lot goes on down here on the ground and in places you’ve never heard of to keep our grand alliance intact. This is it, Commander. I wish you all the good fortune in the universe. I will attempt to gather more ships and warp to the frontier myself to meet the Imperials. Hopefully a strong show of force will deter any rash actions by them.”

  The Supreme Commander reached out and Aaron approached and shook his hand. A crushing grip. He exited the office and was unpleasantly surprised to see Lieutenant Delaine waiting for him. He smiled. “Lieutenant.”

  “Commander,” she nodded.

  He walked past her and she fell in step next to him.

  Three weeks ago, he was a starship captain. Now some cosmic joke placed him in the role of part-time spy. One revelation after another. First, an unknown belligerent ambushed and destroyed his ship. Now two of his shipmates are off on some secret mission which he was joining. And their ultimate destination was Atlas Prime a place not too far from where it all began—on the frontier—the edge of space from the perspective of the core worlds of the United Star Systems.

  He was going home.

  Chapter 5 – The Un-dynamic Duo

  Abandoned Deuterium Processing Station

  Luyten Star System

  Luyten—an overlooked star system fifty light-years from Sol.

  Apart from pockets of dense hydrogen clouds, it contained little other resources or any strategic value.

  Two gas giants and an airless rock orbited the main star. The lone piece of human infrastructure was an abandoned orbital processing station.

  The station was constructed during the twenty-third century to process and refine hydrogen for starship fuel, and was no longer necessary due to advances in propulsion technology, and the declining use of deuterium.

  In the intervening years, Luyten became a refuge for a diverse gathering of interstellar scum. Not long after the corporations left, “new” tenants moved in. These new residents, although they lived outside the rule of United Systems law, had their own code of conduct. Total anarchy was never beneficial to any deviant enterprise, and that theme was alive and well, in the twenty-fifth century.

  Fortunately, for these deviants, the arm of the law wasn’t long enough nor equipped to chase them around the galaxy. As long as they didn’t interfere with vital trade lanes, or commit acts of piracy against other civilian traffic, they wouldn’t even create a blip in the vastness of space. This particular hub of scum spread their tentacles in all manner of illegal endeavors from illegal slave trading to the sale of old starship parts and weapons. However, the “organizers” forbid launching raids from this location.

  A peculiar pair of spacers eased their way through the thick mass of bodies on the neglected decks of the outlaw sanctuary. The first of them hailed from Alpha Centauri, the first and oldest Terran colony. A low haircut carefully parted at the side, slicked to the scalp and not a strand of slightly greying dark hair out of place. A strict diet kept his frame lean. He held a permanent half smile for curious onlookers. His pace wavered slightly. Attached above his left breast pocket on the grease stained, dingy blue jumpsuit was a nametag—Alvarez.

  His partner of the day, illuminated by the dim light of the large sprawling deck, kept grizzly short hair, darker than the void beyond the station, and stepped wit
h all the swagger of Rigel youth. His jaw lines resembled a flawless sculpture. Each arm bulged enough to stretch the fabric of his crisp maroon jump suit. He wore a near permanent scowl. One look at him and the crowd gave them a wide berth. Above his left breast pocket his name tag—Lee.

  Sometimes the best cover for an operative was no cover at all.

  They both had to suppress a sick feeling in their stomachs as they meandered through the large black-market deck. In this place, nothing was off limits. There were Imperial Slave auctions, and drug trafficking of the worst kind of brain-vaporizing drugs. Anyone with a little conscience had difficulty swallowing the sights.

  As for the name tags, the “rules” of the black-market demanded each patron submit to a biometric data scan, and wear given name tags associated to the scan. This system enabled the “entrepreneurs” who skulked around this hellhole deck, to identify their clients, in case they had to enlist a bounty hunter to track double-crossers. But double crosses were rare. Outlaws knew if they stabbed each other in the back too often, they might compromise the location of this obscure haven. The Coalition of Independent Pilots would bar them from this station and others like it. No business means no profit.

  And it’s all about profit for privateers and outlaws.

  Given their recent “discharge” from the United Fleet—not an uncommon occurrence—facial recognition and names wouldn’t be a problem. Any resourceful security check would reveal them as former officers discharged for dereliction of duty. Such officers were in high demand by mercenary corporations.

  Alvarez kept his head straight as he spoke. “Let’s get the package and get gone.”

  “No objections here, Vee.” Lee voiced his agreement as they passed an Imperial Slave auction nearby.

  Alvarez shook his head. What anguish and fate awaited those poor people at their destination?

  They made their way around the sea of vermin swaddled across the deck until they came to an arms merchant in the furthest section from the entrance. To say the burley proprietor was huge would be an understatement. He was at least two full heads above him and Lee. With his head shaved to the scalp, the thick mass of beard the man sported looked like a full head of hair in itself. The bearded brute’s arms resembled a track and field athlete’s legs—an athlete juicing on muscle-enhancing drugs. He donned a faded space fatigue torn underneath the armpits. Maybe the merchant felt the grizzly appearance intimidated the usual scum.