Confluence Point

by Mark G Brewer

  "Not lead Rubik, no, no, no. You will simply make the first approach so that we can observe their methods. We've already lost three warships and still have no intelligence as to their weaponry. Your role will be critical to the success of the mission."

  Rubik swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry; he simply nodded as understanding dawned.

  Tyron continued, somewhat disingenuously, "I would of course take the Mother Lode into battle, however with the Empress aboard naturally we cannot risk her safety."

  "Oh Commander, there is no reason to miss the action on my account." They both turned slowly to find Beria standing in the doorway and smiling wickedly.

  Rubik looked aghast; the specter like woman though robed and regaled was frightening in appearance. A bony, over adorned and painted caricature of beauty it was clear whatever allure she once held had long since been lost. Certainly she looked nothing like the pictures he had seen in news shots. Behind her he could see a monstrous uniformed male, a personal bodyguard he guessed, and a second man, almost naked. The naked man looked wretched, humiliated and broken.

  [That's her squeeze, Rubik, but not for long it seems.] The subbed words came to Rubik unbidden and they were such a shock he jerked visibly. Fortunately Tyron was glaring at Beria and Beria was enjoying Tyron's discomfort at her words immensely. The 'squeeze' had eyes only for the deck and he clearly didn't want eye contact with anyone.

  To Rubik's surprise Tyron appeared speechless in the face of the witch. Witch? Now I'm doing it! He watched as the Senior Commander gritted his teeth and gestured to the Empress, offering his chair.

  "Mistress, we do not deserve your interest. I was merely pointing out to Commander Rubik that he would have the privilege . . ."

  "Of being the bait Commander, yes I know, and I was merely pointing out that you needn't do so on my account since I will not be on your ship." She smiled, revealing yellow teeth, and then moved to take the only chair. "Sit down Commander Tyron - no one stands over the Empress."

  Without looking back she lifted one hand giving it a slight flick. Her guard responded by shoving the unfortunate plaything into the room and the man moved to her side, his loincloth flapping embarrassingly.

  As Tyron dutifully sat beside Rubik, Beria reached casually with one hand to the man's tiny covering. Rubik controlled a grimace as she commenced to manipulate the poor wretch, tormenting him as she held their gaze.

  "Mistress," Tyron directed his words to her face, refusing to even glance at the less than surreptitious movement under the cloth. "I have been charged by the Emperor with your care, you must be on this ship."

  She dismissed him with a single disdainful slash of her free hand. "Yes Commander, you have been charged with my care and my care will best be served by remaining in the outskirts of the system until you secure the prize." Then she smiled again mockingly. "That will leave you both free to engage the enemy. It is essential you succeed and there will be no room for holding back. You must hit them hard with no negotiation, show them the force of Cora and then demand the surrender of the bitch."

  Tyron stiffened. "Mistress, we will certainly acquit ourselves as warriors, and we will succeed, however please - I must clarify your wishes. The Emperor was quite clear to me in his instructions; our lives and those of the crew depend on your safety."

  "I have spoken Tyron - do not question me. My safety will best be served by following you in. We will remain well back until you have secured the prize."

  "Does that mean that Rubik and the Ascendant will remain with you?"

  "No of course not," she answered contemptuously, "this is the very reason we came with my interstellar yacht. I will remain in safety with my own crew and we will await your word. Should you fail we will take the news back to the Emperor." she smiled thinly.

  "We will not fail." Tyron met her eyes and held them defiantly.

  Rubik watched the stare off, his own eyes watering as the neither of them yielded ground. The silence became embarrassing and in his discomfort he coughed, breaking into a fit that shattered the moment. It was Tyron who broke the stand off first, shifting his annoyance and glare. Beria took the opportunity and stood quickly, glaring as she did so at the young man accompanying her. Clearly her ministrations had failed to achieve the shaming result she wanted. Rubik sensed her displeasure would be taken out in some unspeakable way and he shuddered at the thought.

  She addressed Tyron before leaving. "Commander, you will notify my crew as soon as we enter the system of this star. There we will launch and follow you in as I said. We will be well behind out of harm's way; do not worry for my sake . . . and do not tarry in your mission."

  She then stalked from the room, the small entourage following without a word.

  Tyron watched them go, quietly fuming with anger as Rubik wisely kept his silence. Finally he stood and walked to the door, padding it closed.

  "You know what this means, Rubik?" He waited for a reply.

  Rubik lifted his hands in surrender so the older man continued.

  "It means, Rubik, that we," and he gestured to include both of them, "we are finished, possibly condemned and she knows it, the bitch. The Emperor will never forgive me for letting her leave the ship regardless of the outcome."

  "Can we not force her to stay?" Rubik asked hopefully.

  "Are you mad? He will have our lives for forcing her to do anything and she knows this. And the most annoying thing is she is also probably right - she will be safest out on the fringe, able to jump and flee if there is trouble." He thumped the desk hard, swearing under his breath and then surprisingly seemed to recover his poise. He wiped the chair with his sleeve before sitting, an obvious symbolic action, and then sat, reclaiming it before turning to the wall.

  "Screen!" He barked, prompting a representation of the wider solar system to appear with the sun at its center.

  Rubik immediately recognized the view, a visual from the extensive Mariner files. Over the two month journey his study of Mariner’s works had proved both enlightening and disturbing. The great man clearly had a fondness for the human species and their system, a fondness that went beyond anything he had expected. He had foreseen a great future for these people.

  And yet now, just when they seem on the verge of becoming a space faring species, our Emperor, inspired by the witch no doubt, plans for us to crush them and take the system for his own glory. The AI is right; there is no fool like an old fool. With four warships, perhaps we could dominate . . . with two? The stars protect us . . . they have already destroyed three . . .

  "Rubik . . . are you alright?"

  Rubik snapped back, restoring his attention to the screen, "Yes, yes . . . I'm sorry Commander." He thought desperately for something to cover his distraction, "I . . . I was just thinking about that poor sap with the Empress, what a life eh?"

  "The stuff of nightmares Rubik . . ." Tyron shook his head, "Commander, there is work to do; focus your mind or you may fry."

  "Yes of course sir," he sat forward and focused, drawn to the orbit of Earth and the billions he knew lived there.

  "We will leave the Empress here, just outside the system belt. They can drift in from there, ready to run if need be on the first return line. We will then jump right into the system, slow quickly and proceed to Earth without attempting to communicate. No doubt they will have probes that will notify them of our presence and they may try to signal us. Do not reply.

  Once inside Mars orbit," he tapped the screen with a long pointer, "you will launch your bombers. They will proceed ahead of the ships and we will follow, you first with the Mother Lode trailing. We must establish what, if any, weapon they use so that we can regroup and combat it. If we cannot find out by using the bombers as a first wave strike force then Rubik, you will move ahead as the second wave. Your task will be to take out their tiny Orbital." Tyron paused and made firm eye contact with Rubik, unsettling him with the intensity of the gaze.

  "Do you understand Rubik? Destroy the Orbital without question; we
will not negotiate. Once we have their attention, then and only then will we make our demands known to the planet."

  Oh yes . . . Rubik was under no illusion. An attack on the Orbital was a provocative attempt to flush out the master defense so that Tyron could observe from a safe distance. We are simply collateral damage, as will be the Orbital if we succeed, along with no doubt tens of thousands who will die. Even the thought of success gave him no pleasure.

  They continued to talk, or at least Tyron did as there was no room for debate. Rubik forced himself to concentrate, his life depended on it.

  Rubik found he was exhausted on the trip back to the Ascendant. Time had passed quickly as Tyron discussed strategies and tactics that seemed to cover every eventuality. It was impressive and clearly the man had planned for everything he could imagine. Nevertheless they both avoided the orbital in the room. Whatever the enemy was doing, whatever had enabled them to defeat three of Cora's best was quite possibly beyond their imagination, certainly beyond anything they had conceived thus far.

  He noted with relief that the Ascendant was uncharacteristically quiet and mouthed thanks to the stars; he had nothing left for the AI's penetrating questions. On docking he made straight for his room and collapsed on the bed.

  * * *

  The AI woke him early, the Empress was leaving. With relief Rubik followed the screen view of the yacht slipping away from the Mother Lode, orienting outward and then powering up to quickly fall behind them. The yacht would continue to slow before turning and then following on its own, still tracking into the system but well out of harms way. Despite the risk of leaving the Empress unescorted he knew Tyron would be relieved. The witch's presence had hung over the fleet like a pall, a poisonous cloud. It was a ridiculous notion but with her going he had the sense they were suddenly faster, more agile, more able and he looked ahead with more confidence than he had felt for days.

  Despite the desire to relax he continued to watch as the small yacht disappeared, dwindling to a tiny dot before disappearing altogether. They were accelerating rapidly now, having passed through the belt earlier and soon they would make a short jump emerging just outside Mars orbit. From there they would cruise on while slowing, allowing the bombers to move ahead. The knowledge prompted him to rise; he would need to be in control.

  Taking the command chair Rubik reviewed the latest communications from Tyron. They would jump soon, putting the Empress unimaginable distance behind them. He sighed with relief at the thought and settled back comfortably, only to be shocked by a sudden subbed intrusion.

  [I pity that young rag doll with her, her lover. It would be a mercy if they did get to the witch.]

  Once again Rubik felt his nerves jangle as the words came through unbidden.

  [Ship, this is inappropriate. You will stick to business from now on - and she will be safest there - if there is any threat she can jump to warp and go home.]

  [No she can't.] The thought came to him quite definite, and calmly confident.

  [What are you saying?]

  [She won't be jumping to warp; the yacht warp drive isn't functioning.]

  [What?] A flash of alarm passed through him. [Slow the ship, now! And alert the Mother Lode, we must go back.]

  [No.]

  [What do you mean no? Do it!]

  [Rubik we are underway, it would delay us hugely to turn, and anyway, we will not be going back under any circumstance. There is much we must discuss; I suggest we retire to your cabin and talk there.]

  Rubik felt nauseous and a surge of bile seemed to leap to his throat. Something was very wrong. This isn't a game . . . I've been played. Quickly he moved to the Tech Officer’s station and stretched across her to activate the login.

  [It won't work Rubik, and you don't really want to do it anyway.]

  His hand hovered there over the touch commands, beginning to shake embarrassingly.

  [I don't?]

  [You know you don't; I know you Rubik, and we understand each other. Think carefully about your actions Commander, you know I can kill everyone on this ship in minutes. Please, just go to your room. We can talk there without alarming the crew.]

  "Can I help you sir?" He noticed the Tech Officer looking up, a concerned expression giving away her feelings; Rubik had unconsciously tensed over her as if he wanted to attack the screen.

  He stepped back from the desk, "No . . . carry on as you were, I can check what I wanted to see in my room." He turned and walked toward the doors, stopping there briefly to look back; the woman's eyes were following him and he had the sense that she could read his panic.

  "Officer Berin, are all the systems functioning properly?"

  "Never better sir, we've had no problems since we left home." and she smiled encouragingly.

  "Good, good . . . as you were."

  He made for his room with his heart pounding and arms prickling with stress. Resisting the urge to scratch at them he waited until the doors irised shut before rubbing furiously.

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

  * * * *

  Chapter Five

  The small figure sat at the edge of the field screen, with his back to the wall and head turned to look out into the black. He was clearly talking to someone; it could only be Ham. Regan viewed the boy through the system, intrigued to know what they were chatting about.

  [What are they doing Hilary?] She asked.

  [They are discussing how to deal with the bad guys Regan, Jared has insisted on regular instruction.]

  [Uh-huh. And what exactly does this instruction entail?]

  [Well, Jared does like it interesting . . . and practical, and I must say Ham can be very entertaining.]

  [Is it appropriate?]

  [Jared seems to think so.]

  [Hmm, he is only five Hilary.]

  Regan closed her eyes and tuned in to the conversation.

  " . . . So I never tie the enemy to a bomb with a timer and just leave them there."

  "Correct, and that is because . . ?"

  "They always escape." Jared replied.

  "Well, not always," Ham replied reasonably, "but it's not worth the risk."

  "And I should never bother asking them why they did it."

  "Correct, because . . ?"

  "It only gives them time to get loose or something while they take forever answering."

  "That's right."

  "And if they ask me why I'm there or whatever, I shouldn't bother explaining either."

  "Correct again for the same reasons."

  "And I should never do anything like tie them to a missile, or throw them off a cliff or over a waterfall because they could easily survive."

  "Correct, although spacing them would work."

  "But not if they had a suit like Mom and Leah." Jared quickly corrected Ham.

  "Oh very good Jared, you're getting good at this and you're quite right, all those other silly ideas are just movie fantasies of the twentieth century."

  "So instead of those, when I catch the enemy I just kill them, no talking, no slow death, just do it."

  "That's right, and for the record they die just as well with their backs to you as facing. Asking them to turn around just . . ."

  ". . . gives them a chance to pull a weapon, I know." Jared finished the sentence for him. Looking down the deck he spied the tall figure walking toward them.

  "Mom!" Jared bounded to his feet in an action that seemed to defy gravity, then ran to greet her.

  "And do remember Jared," Ham called after him quickly, "it's only the really bad guys we're talking about, not everybody." It was a comment delivered rather guiltily for Regan's benefit.

  [Ham, why have you been off line? I couldn't contact you.] She subbed.

  [Not completely true . . . I just chose to ignore you.]

  [Really, I thought you couldn't ignore me?]

  [There are times Regan, where focused time with children is very important, they need to know they have your full attention.]

  [Is that right my frien
d - and when did you become an expert on children?]

  [Firstly, I am right, children spell love T.I.M.E; and as to your second point, I don't claim to be an expert.]

  Regan smiled, any thought of rebuff gone from her mind. How does he do it, just when I'm ready to pick him up for leading that boy astray he knocks me over with the most caring thought.

  She decided not to address the matter of killing people at the present time, it would keep. "Jared, we're going to Control in the STEIN Traveler, there's possible action coming and we need to be in the right place for it, just in case."

  Jared's eyes lit up with the expectation of battle while Ham immediately accessed the system for update.

  [Hmm, I see what you mean; I've just tapped back in.] Ham sounded concerned. [When did that ship come out of warp?]

  [Only fifteen minutes ago but they'll be within range of communication within thirty minutes. Ham, we can't be sure this is a friendly vessel, I know Hilary will be ready but you should take over, I'd rather you were running the ship.]

  [OK...sooo, how are we going to tell her that you don't want her to drive?]

  [Shit, I don't know Ham; I was hoping you'd do it.]

  [Are you mad? Do you think I'd volunteer for that? You do it, you're the boss.]

  [And you're the minister of defense!]

  [So as the boss, instruct the minister of defense to take the ship.]

  Hilary burst in to the communication [You both know I'm here - why do you play these silly games? And yes, I did note you weren't subbing on a private setting - cowards! Of course he can drive, but just imagine this Regan dear, if this ship happens to be friendly and he merges with his huge alter ego that could spin him out big time. Who do you want to be driving then eh? Answer me that ha-ha . . . not quite so happy now are we?]

  Regan considered Hilary's logic for a moment.

  [I guess she's right Ham, you could be on board that ship. If so, how long before you can update and merge?]