Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection

by G. S. Jennsen

  PART III:

  RECURSION

  “I do not believe in a fate that falls on men however they act;

  but I do believe in a fate that falls on them unless they act.”

  — G. K. Chesterton

  28

  SENECA

  CAVARE, SENECAN FEDERATION HEADQUARTERS

  * * *

  “SO IT’S WAR, THEN.”

  Chairman Vranas didn’t scan the room to search for confirmation. Or if he did, it wasn’t with sufficient flair as to be noticeable. From his seat at one end of the long oak table taking up most of the room, he likely could assess the inclinations of the others without so much as a shift of his gaze.

  The Senecan Federation government prided itself on being efficient, utilitarian, tasteful and modest—quite deliberately everything the Earth Alliance bureaucracy was not. As such, the conference room was large enough to hold the conference table at which conferences took place. No more, no less. Its walls were lined with sophisticated EM shields and assorted flourishes, but as they were hidden away they didn’t spoil the image of minimalistic functionality.

  Vranas notched his chin upward in a show of confidence. “We can’t allow the Alliance to paint us as weak—not when we are stronger than ever. Twenty-two years ago we matched them on the field of battle and won our freedom. Today we are far more capable. Today we possess the capability to achieve unconditional victory. Field Marshal Gianno?”

  The head of the Military Council nodded brusquely; she also wasn’t one to waste effort on unnecessary motions, albeit for different reasons. “The presumed source of the Palluda attack force is the Alliance base on Arcadia. We’ve finalized a plan to destroy the base and cripple their short-range incursion capabilities. Authorize the operation, and we can engage within twelve hours.”

  “Arcadia is a large, established colony. It will be heavily defended, won’t it?”

  Gianno gave a condescending glance in the direction of the Parliament Minority Leader while not actually turning her head. The Senator had a reputation as an alarmist, typically with little justification to back up the accompanying histrionics.

  “Of course it will be, which is why we’re dispatching the entire 3rd Wing of the Southern Fleet. The offensive will be swift, massive and overwhelming. It will immediately weaken their ability to launch attacks into Federation territory, as their next closest base is another kiloparsec away—and it borders far more fortified space.” Her tone broadcast not annoyance, but rather disappointment at having to explain what she meant by ‘crippling their short-range incursion capabilities.’ The Senator remained oblivious to the implied insult.

  The Chairman smiled, the corners of his mouth so nearly reaching his ears he could be accused of preening. “A clear show of force will send an unmistakable message that the Senecan Federation is not to be trifled with.”

  “They’ll declare war on us for certain after an attack of such magnitude!” The Minority Leader’s voice had already risen to a keening level.

  “Certainly. But they will be the ones who do so. We are merely responding to an incursion and assault upon one of our colonies. It will be the Alliance who starts the war—a fact we will not allow anyone to forget. Marshal, the operation is authorized.”

  Graham Delavasi cringed and didn’t bother to hide it. “So…what is our ultimate objective? Say we kick their asses all the way back to Earth—what then? We take over? Is that what we want? Because I was under the impression we wanted to minimally govern a loose association of worlds by mandating a core set of democratic principles and capitalistic standards—or was it just me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We have no intention to take over ruling the Alliance. We shall simply defeat them convincingly enough to cow them into not committing aggression against us again.”

  “Oh, I see.” He ran a hand through too-bushy hair; he had found it was uniquely suited for such tics. “Well, not as if anyone cares at this point, but my assets within the Alliance report the highest levels of the bureaucracy are in a state of confusion. No one can figure out who authorized the Palluda attack, and no one is stepping up to take responsibility. They’re trying to keep the discord under wraps lest the government appear weak—but it seems all is not well in the Brennon administration.”

  The Chairman shrugged. “It hardly matters. Alliance forces came onto our soil and attacked a peaceful colony, and that cannot stand. All the better if their leadership is squabbling amongst itself. We may be able to win this war in short order.”

  He bit back an annoyed sigh. Vranas had been a mid-ranking senator during the Crux War and spent his time serving on commerce committees and the like. A week ago he had been championing the virtues of peace; now he was rattling sabers. Though an assertive, confident leader, the man knew almost nothing of the military, and like many politicians had a case of selective amnesia when it came to the ugly realities of war.

  Graham had fought in the war, spending two years leading stealth tactical interdiction squads behind enemy lines. It was an experience which had led him to jump on the intelligence post offered at the war’s conclusion. Combat was messy, violent, terrifying, costly and tragic—truths few people at the table appreciated.

  These days much of the ‘fighting’ occurred between ships at a distance of megameters from their targets, making it even easier for noncombatants to lose sight of the underlying reality. Especially politicians. They viewed war as a sterile and clean affair, a remote non-sensory circus performance holding little in the way of real consequences.

  Nevertheless, he held his tongue. His post earned him some influence and his blunt manner was common knowledge—but he was far from the most powerful person in a room filled with powerful people. Instead he watched as the Chairman straightened up in his chair and nodded perfunctorily, a signal the Cabinet meeting was drawing to a close.

  “We will not issue a statement until the operation on Arcadia is complete, at which point I plan to address the media and explain the necessity of removing this blatant threat to Federation security. If as expected the Alliance subsequently issues a declaration of war, then—and only then—will we reciprocate. Senators, I assume the Parliament will be in a position to pass a counter-declaration swiftly when the time comes?”

  The Majority and Minority Leaders each indicated agreement.

  “Thank you everyone for coming. Dismissed.”

  EARTH

  VANCOUVER, EASC HEADQUARTERS

  Miriam found Alamatto sitting placidly at his desk, shoulders squared and head high as he performed a stellar imitation of reviewing materials on said desk. Her entry had doubtless been announced sufficiently in advance for him to compose himself.

  “Admiral, what can I do—”

  “Close the door.”

  If he took offense at what was clearly an order, he gave no indication. It wasn’t insubordination, strictly speaking; he may be her boss but he did not outrank her. The door slid shut in a faint whirr.

  She motioned him silent with a terse slash of her hand. “You and I have our differences, but I’ve consistently respected your military judgment. If anything I’ve found it too conservative. But this is beyond the pale. How could you authorize such an action?”

  “I di—”

  “We killed children, Price! I recognize why you saw fit not to inform me of your intentions, as I would have objected in the most strenuous terms—”

  “Miriam, I didn’t authorize the strike.”

  “I am not gullible, Price. Neither am I a fool.”

  All the air left his lungs in a laborious breath; with it his shoulders sagged and carefully fabricated expression collapsed. Stripped of the poise, he appeared a beaten man, small in the oversized chair. “I swear to you—I did not authorize the strike.”

  Her head tilted a mere fraction. “There is no one else who could authorize such an action.”

  He forced out a jittery laugh and gazed up at her. She had not availed herself of any of the chairs opp
osite his desk, and the height advantage added to the impression she was now in charge here. It was not an inaccurate impression.

  “The Prime Minister can. Arguably. At least he retains a Statement of Position from his Attorney General saying he can.”

  Her mouth descended into a small frown at that. “Brennon? He has no military experience—why would he keep you out of the loop?”

  “Maybe because he knows, like you, I would object. He’s denying responsibility, though he doesn’t need to. But who else is there?”

  “Defense Minister Mori might counsel Brennon to take this sort an action, but he wouldn’t stick his neck out so far as to attempt it himself.” She paced along the front of his desk, hands clasped behind her back. “Have you considered the possibility we’re dealing with renegade officers further down the chain of command?”

  He sank lower into the chair. “Oh, Miriam….”

  “You know there are segments of the officer corps who continue to harbor significant animosity toward the Federation.”

  “I’ve always counted you among them.”

  She made it a point to keep her personal feelings separate from her professional judgment, to project an impression of objectivity. She liked to think she was in fact objective. Still, the world expected her to harbor a degree of animosity toward the Federation, and it had not been difficult to oblige them.

  “In some respects I am. But I am also a realist. I’ve seen the costs of war and do not desire to repeat them. And I would never provoke a war by blowing up a school full of children, thereby painting us as the evildoer from the start.”

  “Technically they provoked it with the assassination.”

  A dismissive wave landed in his general direction. “An assassination of a mid-level diplomat is hardly reason enough to start a galactic war. Sanctions for certain, perhaps a blockade—but not war. However, others may have seen it as an opportunity to right old wrongs. Others who are more hot-headed than rational.” Unlike me went unsaid. “It is possible the assassination spurred such individuals to take matters into their own hands.”

  “Rogue officers—even entire units—committing offensive operations without authorization because they’re angry? What a disaster….”

  He went over to his cabinet, poured a glass of water and gulped down half of it, then scowled at the glass as if he had expected it to provide something far stronger. “It will look like I can’t control my own officers, like I’m unable to command discipline and obedience from the rank and file. Brennon will have my head.”

  And he should, because you cannot. Price had invariably proven a weak leader, too eager to foster harmony and accord and unwilling to make the difficult decisions or stand behind them on the rare occasions when he did. It was a management style which had served him well enough in a time of peace, yet was wholly unsuitable for the discord which marched in lockstep with armed conflict.

  Whether at Brennon’s ‘request’ or due to his own implosion, the prospect of him lasting the year in his current post was low and decreasing by the hour. She began making plans to distance herself from him, quietly and without fanfare. She would not actively work to bring him down, but she owed him no duty to fall upon her own sword on his behalf.

  “I believe the Prime Minister has more pressing concerns at the moment than your head. Most notably, the fact that we appear to be on the verge of another war. The Senecan Chairman is consulting his senior advisors as we speak—and I don’t believe we should expect a peaceful outcome.”

  He stared at her, bleak desperation in his eyes…and she realized any self-assurance which resulted from his position, family heritage or even experience had abandoned him with the advent of the crisis. He looked as frightened as an FNG on his first orbital drop.

  “I’m meeting Brennon and the cabinet in six hours. What do I tell them? What do I say?”

  She smiled thinly. “Only you can decide your best course of action. If you are asking my advice, I suggest you tell them the truth.”

  29

  SIYANE

  METIS NEBULA, INNER BANDS

  * * *

  “WOULD YOU SHUT UP for two seconds and listen to me?”

  Alex cringed at the frayed edges and shrill pitch of her voice. She sounded hysterical. Hell, she felt hysterical. If it weren’t for the fact she’d never been hysterical in her life—other than on the day her father died—odds are she would be hysterical.

  They had run. They were still running.

  She hadn’t wanted to engage the sLume drive at first, worried the notable expansion and contraction of the fabric of space might be detected, and god only knew how fast those alien ships were capable of flying. But she’d thrown so much power at the dampener field on their retreat the field’s module had overloaded and fried out. Thankfully the silica-sapphire matrix filter caught the backflow and prevented any damage to the LEN reactor.

  Figuring an unmasked full-power impulse engine was likely to attract at least as much attention as initiating a warp bubble, she had relented and switched over to vanish at superluminal velocity. Thus far no alien ships had trailed her to blow her out of space.

  Beyond its designated requirements, feeding more power to the sLume drive did not result in greater speed. The limit to how rapidly it propelled her and her ship through space was built into the design of the drive, and no amount of power in creation could make it go any faster. So she’d also turned the heat and lights back on.

  She would lessen the frequency she dropped out of superluminal. Two days in between particle dumps should be fine, so long as she did so far outside any outpost of civilization. She’d run the sLume at 100% instead of the 95% she typically did to minimize wear and tear. Together with high-tailing it out of Metis at full speed from the start rather than meandering around on impulse as she’d done coming in—and the fact she intended to acquire herself a goddamn superluminal travel waiver for inside the Main Asteroid Belt—and she should be able to trim nearly a day and a half off the trip home.

  Three and a half days had never seemed so long.

  But it wasn’t three and a half days. As soon as she escaped Metis communications would return. She could warn people. She could get the information to her mother, who could get it to those who mattered, and they could…deal with it.

  The Earth Alliance armed forces were very capable. Certainly they were very large. Not state of the art, but reasonably advanced. Were they strong enough? She imagined it depended on how many ships were still to come through the portal. Perhaps if the Alliance cooperated with Senecan forces—she cut a glance over to evaluate the state of her Senecan companion.

  His jaw had locked in place, and his eyes were flaring as hot as the bright blue core of Messier 32. But his expression was one of…of pained patience, which only made her want to strangle him more. At least he had acquiesced in one respect—he shut up. She should probably start talking before her two seconds ran out.

  “I am not trying to allow genocide to be committed upon your ‘people.’ I am not leaving them to the wolves, to those…things, okay? I realize Seneca and its friends lie directly in the way of any path to Earth and are located substantially closer to Metis.”

  She forced herself not to pace in a manner which might be interpreted as hysterical. “The instant communications return, you can comm your boss or your President or Chairman or whatever it is you call him or her. Comm whoever the hell you desire. Send the visuals—send the entire fucking data set. Talk to them for hours. Whatever you feel you need to do to prepare them is fine by me. I want you to warn them.

  “All I am saying is I’m going to Earth, and I’m not taking a two-day detour to Seneca on the way.”

  He sank back with a sharp sigh against the wall behind the data center, where she had been pulling in the information captured and trying to begin to organize and categorize it while they raced at maximum speed away from the center of Metis and its otherworldly portal and army of monster ships.

  That was earlier
though. Before the argument.

  He had assumed they would be heading to Seneca forthwith to warn his government of the danger in person. A logical enough assumption she supposed, given Senecan space extended practically to the outskirts of the Metis Nebula and thus its inhabitants may be in a wee bit of clear and present danger.

  She wasn’t going to Seneca. She didn’t care to go there when things were peachy, much less when aliens were knocking on the door. For one, on Seneca she’d be dependent on him and not even remotely in control of her situation. For another, she possessed a direct line to the highest ranks of the Alliance military; she needed to get to Earth and if necessary yell and scream at her mother and her mother’s bosses and anyone and everyone else required until they understood the magnitude of the fucking problem. And she had no time to waste.

  The shock of witnessing an invading army of unimaginably powerful aliens emerging through an unfathomably advanced portal had left them both on edge and not exactly at their best. When he had expressed his assumption regarding their destination, she had protested. He had misinterpreted. Words had ensued.

  After seeming to search her face for a moment, as if for reassurance of the truth of her statements, his chin dropped to his chest. It was followed several seconds later by a weak nod. “Okay. I hear you. And I’m…sorry I accused you of being insensitive.”

  “I believe the term you used was ‘soulless’?”

  “Right.” A desperate-sounding breath escaped his lips. “All of those ideas sound reasonable, and I’ll likely do most of them. But what then?” He looked up at her from beneath long lashes, his gaze less hard but no less troubled. “Where does that leave me?”

  She dropped her hands to the rim of the table and leaned into it, allowing her eyes to drift down rather than hold his. “Look, if you want I can drop you off on Gaiae. I know it’s small and the residents are kind of creepy, but it has a spaceport and regular transports. You can get home from there. It’ll cost me four hours or so, but I’ll compensate somehow.”