by Ron Collins
The station’s president and CEO had called him to a conference, which Torrance assumed was meant to ensure their basic pact hadn’t been forgotten. Kulpani, as he had suggested before agreeing to help Torrance, would almost certainly not be the head of JSC this time next year, which, if all things went well, would be about the time the mission to Eden would roll up on the plan.
His days had been chock-full, listening to scientists work through plans for the initial jaunt to Eta Cassiopeia’s Atropos, the long-ago abandoned home of Universe Three. The site was chosen as the initial target because Atropos’s coordinates were items the UG was now intensely familiar with, and because the scientific community had data there that could be used as a baseline for calibrating their instrumentation.
The early priority list was full of what the community was calling “Jump and Bump” exercises—operations where Magellan would drop into a system, take a series of standard readings, then jump back. Given the time it took to re-gear the science required for each new mission, this profile meant the ship could run as many as fifty or so major excursions in a standard year—assuming, that is, that the jump coordinates were proven to be reliable.
It was a heady time to be the ambassador to JSC.
Other elements of the year had flown by, too.
Kitchell had finished his internship at JSC and returned to the Academy, where he was excelling.
Torrance and Marisa were doing well.
Marisa had stayed on site, and was logging fifteen-hour shifts with mathematicians at JSC’s mapping lab, a group who were developing an all-out approach to use the UG’s soon-to-be massive advantage in Star Drive ships to canvas the nearest star systems with intent to find Universe Three rebels and drive them out of whatever holes they were locked down in. The idea was to preprogram a series of jumps to cover more space in less time, but was severely limited by both physical stresses of the ship and crew, and the fact that no one knew the debris patterns inherent in any “fresh” star system. It was a complex problem, but one that, if mission planners could work out both the logistics of long-run jump exercises and the safety algorithms required to blind-hop, would be a major tactical advantage. It was one of those interesting technological developments that, like radar, sonar, and targeting theories of past history, could change the basic nature of war itself.
“It’s interesting work,” Marisa said late last night while she ate a warmed dinner in their quarters. “These people are all so brilliant, but none of them have ever actually been on a spacecraft that has to make all these moves they envision.”
“Not unusual,” Torrance said. “People are always discounting the difficulties of things they haven’t done themselves.”
“In this case, they aren’t discounting so much as they’re just naïve.”
“They don’t know what they don’t know.”
“Right.”
“Like those kids who blew up their test spacecraft a couple years ago?”
“Yes, exactly. The news reports all focused on the fact that the kids got the math wrong, but the fact is that their jump actually worked for a moment. Their biggest error was that they jumped into space with too much debris and the ship disintegrated on arrival due to matter-energy conversion.”
“Einstein wins again.”
“Always does.”
Torrance frowned. “So you’ve giving your bosses a perspective they haven’t dealt with.”
“You can say that again.”
“So you’re giving them—” Torrance stopped before Marisa tossed a couch pillow at him.
He caught it in midair, grinning.
Sitting at the end of the couch, legs curled under her, and holding her dinner plate in one hand and her fork raised in another, Marisa looked at Torrance and said, “What would you think about having a kid together?”
“What?”
“A kid. Together.” She smiled then, clearly enjoying the perplexed expression on his face at her bombshell.
“But…,” Torrance said, trying to process the idea, and at the same time trying to figure a way to politely remind Marisa that children were not an option for him.
“I’ve learned of a child on Europa who needs adopting,” she said. “A little girl. I thought we might be able to help.”
He had looked at her then, and saw what the question really meant. Raise a kid. Together.
Torrance was thinking about that when the door to the waiting area opened, and an unexpected man stepped in.
Torrance stood.
“Ambassador Reyes,” he said. “This is a fantastic surprise.”
Reyes was the reason he was in the Office of Coordination and, specifically, this position itself.
“Good to see you again, Torrance,” Reyes replied, stepping forward to clasp his hand. The ambassador looked older than Torrance remembered him, the depth to the crevasses that ran down his face certainly deeper than his image on the projector chats had indicated. Torrance wondered how much adjusting Reyes had programed Abke to do.
The ambassador was dressed in the formal robes of the office, white upper flowing to bronze at the base, waist cinched with a sash tied to one side. A black shirt lay under the robe.
A woman came behind, also adorned as if from the upper regions of the Office of Coordination’s hierarchy, but in addition wearing a thin chain around her neck that dangled over the shirt. She was as tall as Reyes, with dark hair. Younger than Reyes by at least a decade, probably two, maybe three.
“Ambassador Janic,” Reyes said, turning to the woman, “please meet Ambassador Torrance Black.” He squared himself with Torrance. “Ambassador Black, please greet Ambassador Farina Janic.”
Torrance clasped her hand.
She was strong.
“I’m very glad to meet you, Torrance.”
“Likewise. If I knew you were coming I would have—”
“Not a problem, Torrance,” Reyes said. “Time didn’t allow it, anyway.”
“I understand that,” Torrance said, though in truth he didn’t. With a moment to reflect now, he wasn’t sure what to think of this situation. “Please, have a seat,” he said, motioning them to the other comfortable chairs arranged around the projection system. “I’m sure President Kulpani will want to see you, also.”
“We have already seen Mr. Kulpani,” Janic said. Her voice was as firm as her handshake.
Torrance sat back.
“This meeting was arranged for us by Mr. Kulpani, Torrance,” Reyes said.
“I don’t understand.”
“I wanted to tell you personally.”
“Tell me what?”
“First, that Farina here is going to take my place in the next cycle.”
Torrance glanced to Ambassador Janic. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
“And second?”
Ambassador Janic replied. “We wanted you to know that Magellan’s mission profile has been altered. She will no longer be a scientific vessel. Instead Magellan will be assigned to Interstellar Command, as will all other Star Drive spacecraft for the next two years.”
A rock formed in Torrance’s chest.
“Two years?” It was the most intelligent thing he could get out of his mouth at the time.
“Perhaps longer.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Torrance replied. The months of work crashed down on him, and he rubbed his hands over his eyes. His face felt like rubber. He glanced at Reyes, knowing the energy the ambassador had put into his arrangements. “You negotiated this deal yourself. Can’t you do anything?”
“I understand what Magellan meant to you, Torrance. But, as you are going to learn shortly, and as the general public will learn throughout the day as news reports are released, Universe Three has just flown missions with another new spacecraft of their own. The UG leadership’s priorities are clear and their decisions have been made.”
“Universe Three has their own production capability? Already?”
Janic’s voice was hard this time. Firm and cold as Europa herself. “They are resourceful, Torrance. And they don’t give up. You, of all people, should know what lengths they’ll go to in order to defeat us.”
“But they just bugged out of Atropos—”
“A very short while ago. True. All of it. But we’ve always known Universe Three was attempting to build a fleet, and they have to know we’re going to dwarf their capacity soon, regardless. So it should come as no surprise that they’ve put everything they have into building this one.”
Torrance’s gaze bounced between Janic and Reyes.
He felt it then—the tension between the two.
At first Torrance had assumed Reyes was retiring or moving on, but he saw the truth now. Farina Janic had pushed the incumbent out. This was her play, and she had won. Alberto Reyes was on his farewell tour. Torrance wondered how much it had cost his mentor to allow him this one favor.
Janic spoke then. “I know I can count on you to serve the Office of Coordination in your usual fashion.” The edge of her voice made the threat that rode under those words clear.
Reyes’s expression carried resignation.
Torrance cleared his throat.
“Yes, Ambassador. I’m sure you can.”
“Fantastic,” she replied, then turned to Reyes. “In that case, we have more stops to make.”
Reyes nodded. “I know you’ll be busy making adjustments, Torrance. I hope you’ll excuse us.”
“Certainly, Ambassador,” Torrance said.
Then they were gone, and Torrance Black found himself alone in CEO Kulpani’s waiting room, staring at a column of yesterday’s overly excited news releases that listed the many experiments that had been planned, but were now as empty as the holographic space the reports rode on.
Torrance drew a hard breath and shook his head.
He felt numb.
Lost.
Abandoned, powerless, and lied to, and…this was stupid. Idiotic.
Even with a third ship, Universe Three was no match for the UG—not for long, anyway. Everyone who actually thought about the situation would see that. Of course U3 was still finding ways to do damage to UG outposts with guerilla attacks, so he understood the danger. But that had almost nothing to do with the UG’s space superiority. The issue was one of finding a needle in the proverbial cosmological haystack, and having one more military spacecraft wasn’t going to do a damned thing to make that equation any better. To shut down all science projects for this kind of zero return was nothing but a political ploy.
It would work in that fashion, however, because people were afraid, and because people who were afraid would then vote to remove fear.
The fact was, however, that scientific advances had always resulted in advances to the public welfare. It wouldn’t even surprise him if the slate of scientific operations they had planned would save lives of soldiers and pilots in the near term.
None of that mattered, though.
The program was all but dead.
Torrance sighed.
When his thoughts became semiclear again, he found his fist was clenched into a claw that held one of the throw cushions from Kulpani’s couch.
He clenched his jaw tight, stood up, and threw the pillow hard across the room. The toss missed the porcelain statue that stood in the corner by a thin margin. Torrance found himself disquietingly upset that he missed.
Torrance collected himself then.
He straightened his jacket, and stepped away.
Reyes had been right. There was work to do, though to be honest Torrance had no idea what that work would be.
* * *
Later that night, Torrance received another call.
He had set his personal system on mute, so only now saw the call flag was flashing. He pulled himself from the review he was doing—trying to determine if he could salvage any projects by attaching them to military operations. The office was dark now, he noticed. The observation window had rotated closed earlier, and he was so caught up in his work he hadn’t adjusted the lighting.
He checked the label and saw the message was from Marisa, then he checked the clock to see it was past seven o’clock local.
Shit.
He had said he would be home earlier.
“Return Marisa Harthing’s call please, Abke.”
“Connecting,” Abke replied.
“Hello,” Marisa said. “Oh, hi,” she continued after apparently noting the source of the call. She sounded rushed.
“I’m sorry I’m running late,” Torrance said.
The pause on the other side was slight, but still noticeable enough to be almost audible in itself.
“That means you haven’t heard the news?”
“That Magellan is being reassigned? Yes, I’ve heard it.”
“Not that news.”
Torrance waited.
Marisa filled his silence. “I’ve been asked to be the Chief Navigation Officer on Magellan’s crew.”
This time it was Torrance’s hesitation that was audible.
“Isn’t that amazing?” Marisa said.
“Yeah,” Torrance replied. “Amazing. Totally amazing.”
“I know it’s late, so let’s eat somewhere, all right?”
“Sure,” Torrance said, looking at the time again.
“Ocean View?” Marisa said. “My treat.”
He smiled at the joke they had been sharing for the past several months since they had started combining everything they did.
“Sounds great,” he said. “But I’ll make it my treat.”
“Deal,” she said, then disconnected.
For the second time today, Torrance sat alone, wondering what the hell had just happened.
CHAPTER 8
Apogee
Local Date: C2D10
Local Time: 2/9:45
It was nighttime, but the “streets” were lit up by fire and the occasional celebratory rocket. Deidra sat on a rocky ledge of the hillside that looked down over the population of what they called a city, but in reality was just a small village. A few thousand people, really. Music played. The people were drinking.
The celebration made Deidra smile, despite herself.
Why not, she thought.
How many times does a group of people like this build one of the most complex pieces of machinery ever devised and do it in record time? And how often does a plan work exactly as it was drawn up? How many times does a raid result in total destruction of a military manufacturing base, without loss of even a single skimmer?
The night was hot and humid.
It was always hot here. Always humid.
To be honest, she hated Apogee.
She had come here to be alone. Thanks to the celebration, it was the first time she had been able to make that happen since the bugout, so many standard months ago. She thought about Kel and Jamal first, then her father. Matt Anderson. The rest of the people who had given so much for this success.
She thought about Ellyn Parker.
The three spheres of Universe Three.
She wondered about the future.
Brush rustled beside her.
She turned and brought her walking staff up to defend against a critter of some type, but saw her visitor was human.
Under cover of darkness, she allowed herself a grimace, but then saw the form of Katriana Martinez stepping toward her, a wine bottle in each hand.
“Hi,” Deidra said.
If it would have been anyone else, Deidra would have told them to leave her alone. Instead, she just put her staff down.
Katriana was closer in age to Deidra’s mother, than to Deidra. Her body was growing softer as she aged.
“Hi,” Deidra said as she approached.
“Hola,” Katriana replied as she proffered a bottle, then sat cross-legged beside Deidra.
The cork was gone, but the bottle was full.
Deidra took it and drank. The wine was still cool. It made her stomach feel good.
&
nbsp; The two of them sat silently, watching the people of Universe Three party.
Deidre allowed her thoughts to return to Papa and Kel and Jamal. She drank more wine and remembered everyone she knew from before the United Government’s double cross cost them Atropos.
“Today’s victory was important,” she said.
“Of course.”
“Why does it feel so hollow?”
Katriana’s smile was as thin as Deidra’s comment. She raised the bottle to her lips and drank. Wine sloshed as she brought the bottle back down.
“I think it takes a long time to learn that all victories are temporary.”
“I understand that.”
“Do you?”
One side of Deidra’s lips curled up. She gave a sheepish shrug. “I don’t know.”
“That’s probably better.”
The celebration continued. Deidra listened to a night creature sing in the distance.
“They are sitting ducks now,” Deidra finally said.
“The Uglies?” Katriana replied.
The thickness of her tongue led Deidra to think Katriana had been drinking before she broke into this bottle—which was probably only fair. Her craft, Vengeance, and Icarus had been the decoys, flashing into the Solar System to draw the UG defenses while Defender, fresh off the line, wreaked havoc on the line of manufacturing plants that now dotted the Kensington Station line of asteroids.
“Yes, the Uglies.”
Katriana nodded, her blond hair drooping over her face.
“Yes, they are,” she said. “Barring some kind of screwup, we should be able to jump in and pick them off at will. For now, anyway.”
Deidra nodded.
She didn’t need Katriana to explain further.
This war was too far along to back out of, even if Deidra or the rest of Universe Three ever decided they wanted to.
The United Government wouldn’t leave them alone now, and while Universe Three was going to be hard to find, it wasn’t impossible to envision a future where the Uglies would discover their outpost. If that happened…
“I don’t think we could survive that,” Deidra said.