Compelling Evidence

by Michael Anderle

  The ship’s warning system told Loralei there was incoming. “Whoever is hearing this, it looks like I’m in a jam. It’s a good thing I can’t panic because all my sensors have just lit up.” Loralei scanned for an escape route. She spotted a gap in the debris, spun her ship on its axis, and dropped into the layer of dust below. “Readying defenses and priming Gate drive.”

  Scanners picked up a burst of energy just as a ship came hurtling out of a gap in the cloud. It was coming straight toward her, led by a spread of missiles. Loralei picked up a brief blip behind the strange ship on her sensors. It sped away too fast to track, but Loralei got a lock on it long enough to ascertain that it was headed away from them. “Dammit, they got a communication out.”

  Loralei sent a wave of kinetics out to destroy the missiles coming toward her, but even her pucks couldn’t match the speed of the whatever-it-was heading in the opposite direction. There was no issue with the missiles coming toward her. The pucks met the missiles in a shower of bright flashes that lit the dust around the two ships.

  The Loralei shook as one made it through and scored a hit on her flank. “I’ve taken a hit. Calculating damage. Shit. The Gate drive is offline.” Loralei scanned the ship as it passed her position and she was blocked. “Double dammit. They have an EI. Preparing to repair Gate drive and get the hell out of here.”

  The enemy ship flipped and came directly at the Loralei.

  “No way. I think the crazy bastard is going to ram me. Gate drive has failed. My calculations are telling me I’m not going to make it out of this.” This time Loralei allowed herself to sigh. “A Queen Bitch’s EI got to do what a Queen Bitch’s EI got to do. If I’m not making it out of here? Then neither are they.”

  Loralei swung her vessel around and set a course for the nose of the enemy ship. She embedded an encrypted copy of her report in a message torp, a tiny torpedo programmed to return to a predesignated destination where it would feed the data back to High Tortuga via the Etheric. “I hope you all appreciate what I’m doing here. I sure as hell wish I had a few motherpuckers right now. When you come out here and drag my crumpled ass back, you make sure to load me up with some before I get sent back out again.”

  The Loralei met the enemy ship nose-on.

  A short time later a small, unmanned torp cruised over the remains of the two ships. The onboard EI scanned the wreckage thoroughly, paying extra attention to what remained of the Loralei. The alien torp completed its circuit, turned, and shot out of the opposite end of the system in a flash of blue light.

  Seventh Planet, Gahl System, Prime Spaceport Meeting Room 43a

  General Lance Reynolds tapped his fingers on the table and stared impassively at the bickering Noel-ni before him.

  Beneath the calm exterior he was more than a little pissed at the delay in getting the hell off this planet, but just the same, he’d rearranged his departure to accept the “urgent” request for an audience he’d received from the Noel-ni delegation that morning.

  Reia, the leader of the delegation, arrived on time with her entourage and had been about to tell him the reason for their visit when another group of Noel-ni entered and started an argument with the delegates.

  Lance had broken up the dispute before it came to blows, and now he had two groups of bristling Noel-ni facing off across his conference table.

  He sighed inwardly, wishing he was allowed to smoke in here. Half the reason he’d chewed that cigar all those years was so he could bite back his temper when stupid shit like this occurred.

  He tapped the table. “Look, I’m a busy man. You need to give me some clue as to why you’re here taking up my time, or I’m going to have to ask you all to leave.”

  The leader of the delegation dragged her glare from the Noel-ni opposite and turned her head to look at Lance. Her expression was only a little less hostile than it had been when she was facing her rival. “We are here because we have a problem.”

  “Nothing we need human help with!” the rival exclaimed. “Keep them out of it, Reia!”

  Reia rounded on the unfortunate male. She leaned over the table and slashed his face with a swipe of her claws. He dodged, but not quickly enough. “If we didn’t need help I would not be here asking for it, you fool. Besides, we are asking for the Federation’s assistance. You will be silent, Drazen, or you will be removed from your position permanently.” He narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth, but did as he was told.

  Reia turned back to Lance. “We recently lost contact with two freighters carrying goods vital to a trade agreement we have with the Q’Palmeretta. Their escort also dropped out of communication. We sent ships to investigate, but they vanished also.”

  “What does that have to do with the Federation?” Lance frowned and took a sip of his expertly blended single malt. He might not be able to smoke, but God bless Bobcat for the Scotch.

  “Unless we deliver the trade goods, the treaty will be broken, and we will be at war with the Q’Palmeretta.” Reia’s lip curled slightly. She put an organically secured memory chip on the table and pushed it over to Lance. “This is all the data we have. All we know is that it happened just outside the boundary of Federation space. The Noel-ni are members of the Federation, General. If we go to war, the Federation goes to war. You’re the head of the Federation, so do something about it before we end up in that position.”

  Lance steepled his hands on the table in front of him. “You getting your asses in a sling doesn’t mean the Federation has to jump in, and you know it.” He leaned forward to put a finger on the chip. “However, leave it with me. I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  He really didn’t want a war breaking out with the Q’Palmeretta. He had two agents in their area right now trying to reduce other tensions the Leath had kicked up.

  If it wouldn’t give Bethany Anne ideas, he would go to the Leath and put his boot up their asses. They needed to keep their “business” groups on a shorter leash.

  Reia stood and nodded, then swept from the meeting room, followed by her entourage. The rival with the bloody muzzle was the last to leave. He slunk after the others with an almost defeated slump to his shoulders, turning back as he exited to steal a baleful glance at Lance.

  Lance returned to the ship and began his investigation from there. Home was only a few hours away. Besides, he wanted to dig into that Drazen character a little. There was something off about him; something more than the standard Noel-ni aversion to anyone who wasn’t a Noel-ni.

  When he reached his office on his ship, he sat at his desk and slid the top drawer open. He removed a slim wooden box, then placed it on his desk and turned his chair around to retrieve the decanter and a cut-glass tumbler from the sideboard behind him.

  He turned on his terminal, poured a measure into his glass, and removed a cigar from the wooden box. He cut the end and inhaled the rich aroma of the tobacco, savoring the silence and the rare opportunity to enjoy a cigar without Patricia looking at him like he’d just done something horrible on the living room carpet while her book club was there.

  He completely agreed that he shouldn’t smoke around baby Kevin, so it was a luxury he hadn’t had for a while.

  Especially since he’d been stuck on the no-fun political world for the last couple of weeks. At least that was over now, and he had something more suited to his preferences to deal with. He hated the endless rounds of meetings, memos, and whiny civil servants up his ass that his role as head of the Federation had landed him in.

  How life had changed from the simple days back on the Colorado base, when he only had to worry about the soldiers under his command and the day-to-day demands of running the base.

  Of course, he wouldn’t exchange what he had now for anything, trade conferences on puritan worlds notwithstanding.

  Lance considered the potential clusterfuck while he scrolled through the data Reia had given him.

  This was the first real challenge to the nascent Federation where the ex-Empress wasn’t waiting in the wings to sca
re the miscreant children into behaving. He knew a call to Bethany Anne could resolve the issue with no blowback on the Federation, but he was the one in charge now.

  His daughter needed time to raise her family, and do whatever else she was doing over on the planet that couldn’t make up its mind about its damn name.

  It was also the first opportunity for Lance to begin cementing the shaky foundation they were resting their hopes for a brighter future on into place. A chance to build trust between the edgy factions who had spent generations upon generations doing their best to screw each other over.

  No, there would be no calling Bethany Anne. There was a minute chance that she’d listen to Michael, so he decided that he would risk her finding out; he’d call him and ask for his help keeping her out of it.

  The Federation needed to put on their big-boy pants before Bethany Anne heard what was going on and decided she should motivate them with a tickle of the toes she used to kick their asses with.

  It was probably best that didn’t happen. He got back to work on the information from the Noel-ni delegate.

  Chapter Two

  High Tortuga, Space Fleet Base, Queen’s Suite

  Bethany Anne snuggled into Michael’s shoulder with a satisfied smile on her face. “The children will be awake soon.” She got out of bed and dressed quickly, flinging one arm into her robe, then the other.

  Not quickly enough.

  Michael glided up behind her, almost too quietly for her to hear. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “But they are not awake yet…”

  Bethany Anne turned in his arms and kissed him soundly. “You must be getting deaf in your old age, my love.” She danced out of his reach and tied her robe.

  As if on cue, Alexis and Gabriel burst into their room. Alexis dashed to the bed and began bouncing up and down like a tiny whirlwind. Gabriel ran straight to Michael and crushed his leg in a brief hug before attaching himself firmly to Bethany Anne’s side.

  Their growth had slowed significantly shortly after they were able to walk around by themselves, just as TOM had predicted. They looked more like six-year-olds, and were precocious learners.

  Bethany Anne looked at Michael. How did they get this big already?

  We gifted them with the best genes in existence, my dear.

  I can hear you, Alexis interrupted, her little eyes staring at her parents as she stopped jumping on their bed.

  Michael tilted his head a little and affected a stern look. “Alexis, remember how we talked about not listening in on Mommy’s and Daddy’s private conversations?”

  “It’s our birthday, Daddy,” Alexis told him, straight-faced. “You can’t be mad on our birthday!” She tilted her head and gave him her mother’s eyes.

  Michael was helpless. He knelt and held his arms out to her. “It is indeed, my little princess. Shall we get ready for breakfast?”

  “You’re a sucker for a pair of wide eyes,” Bethany Anne called after them as they left the room.

  “How do you think you snared me?” he called back over his shoulder as Alexis threw herself into the air.

  Bethany Anne smiled until she heard the rest of his remark inside her mind.

  Did you think it was your chipper attitude on that mountain all those years ago?

  Bethany Anne’s smile dropped. Just get your ass to the kitchen.

  This time it was Gabriel who interjected, Mommy, I can hear you! He laughed and ran ahead of her up the short corridor. “Mommy said ‘ass,’ Mommy said ‘ass!’”

  Bethany Anne rolled her eyes. She really needed to get a handle on her potty mouth. “I think it’s time to get a swear jar,” she murmured.

  Soft lighting came on overhead automatically when they entered the kitchen. Alexis and Gabriel turned as one to their parents.

  “Yes, go play,” Bethany Anne told them. “We’ll call when breakfast is ready.” She went to the fridge and began stacking ingredients on the counter.

  The twins ran through the kitchen, across the family area, and through the left door to the playroom.

  Michael snagged an apron from the hook by the stove. “You remembered the berries? And the syrup?”

  “As if I’d forget! The blueberries were easy. I just put in a call to Agritopia. The maple syrup, however, was not easy to source. You can thank Stephen. He was very tight-lipped about where he got it, though.” She passed him a griddle from the low cupboard and headed for the dressing room to pick their outfits for the day.

  She paused in the doorway and looked back at him. “I love how domestic you’ve become.”

  Michael patted the pancake in the pan a little too hard. “I am not domestic,” he muttered under his breath as he worked the spatula to save the pancake. “I am a force of nature which cannot be contained.”

  Bethany Anne smirked. “Yes, dear.” She crossed the divided room, grabbing a few items for herself and Michael as she passed their everyday wardrobe and went into the twins’ shared closet space at the back.

  This was her favorite part of family life. Almost every morning they went through this ritual of waking up and eating breakfast together, a little pocket of the day that was just for the four of them.

  She ran her hand over the rack holding all of Alexis’ clothing—from her much loved jeans and completely unworn dresses and pretty tops, all the way to the end of the rail where her daughter’s favorite outfits hung. She smiled, seeing a teaching opportunity.

  Parenting a child with abilities like her own came with the expected challenges. Parenting twins came with a set all its own. The children needed to be occupied from morning until night. Not necessarily supervised, but definitely occupied.

  ADAM had come up with a rigorous learning schedule that took into account both the children’s age, the differences in their learning methods, and their constant need to absorb new information.

  Alexis was a logical learner, as opposed to Gabriel’s kinesthetic style. She grasped each new experience as though it were her last breath, dismantled it, and came to her own conclusions about what she’d learned, sometimes with unintended consequences. Last week she’d accidentally switched on the ability to communicate telepathically with others besides her brother and had begun broadcasting her thoughts to anyone who could hear. Bethany Anne had been working with her since then to strengthen the ability and bring it under control.

  Alexis?

  Yes, Mommy?

  Show me the atmosuit you want to wear today and tell me which one you don’t.

  Ummm… There was a pause, in which Bethany Anne caught a brief impression of purple sparkles from Alexis before it merged into a muddy brown. Orange ruffles, please, Mommy.

  She grabbed the purple atmosuit, impressed by her daughter’s control. That was much better than last time, sweetie! Uncle Barnabas will be super-impressed when I tell him how quickly you’re working this stuff out.

  Alexis had a squeal in her inner voice. Really?

  Yes. I have your purple sparkles. Well done, sweetheart. She grabbed the atmosuit, as well as one for Gabriel, who wore blue every day regardless. She made her way back to the kitchen, which was filled with the delicious aroma of blueberry pancakes.

  She waited until Michael wasn’t near the flame and repaid his sneak attack from earlier with one of her own. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. “Mmmm,” she mumbled into his ear, reaching around him to swipe a blueberry from the bowl beside him. “That smell makes me want to go back in time and marry you all over again.”

  Michael flipped the pancakes one at a time. “If you work out how to do that, let me know. I fudged the last batch.”

  There was a pause behind him as Bethany Anne turned. “Fudged?”

  Michael nodded, flipping the pancake. “Did you hear the words from our infant son’s mouth? Fudged. I don’t think a swear jar is a bad idea, but we’ll have to make it interesting…”

  Bethany Anne grinned and let go. “What have you got in mind?”


  Michael pressed down on the pancakes, gently this time. “I’m not sure yet. It will wait, I have something else to tell you. Don’t overreact—”

  “Said by every man about to deliver news sure to make the recipient sh…have kittens.” She popped the blueberry into her mouth and sat on a stool at the breakfast bar across from him. “So what’s this news I’m supposed to not overreact to?”

  Michael slid the pancakes onto a platter and carried it to the table. “Your dad and Patricia can’t make it for the party.”

  Bethany Anne had gotten up to bring the rest of the breakfast items over, and her eyes narrowed. “No? Why not?”

  “He’s having some kind of issue. He’s not sure what the root cause is yet, so he doesn’t believe it would be prudent to leave the Federation.”

  “I wonder if it’s the Leath? Who am I kidding? Of course, it is.”

  Michael raised an eyebrow. This was exactly what Lance had wanted to avoid, and why he’d called Michael instead of her. “It could be outside influences. We don’t know that it’s the Leath. Don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions.”

  She stopped and stared at him. “It’s hard not to. I might have to go and investigate if he can’t resolve it through legal channels. It would be just like those…those… Verdammt, how hard can it be to curse without cursing?”

  Michael chuckled dryly. “I’m sure your vocabulary will improve as you find new ways to further besmirch our language.”

  She pursed her lips. “I didn’t realize I was so off my game. The Leath, those sneaky, two-faced ingrates. It would be just like them to stir up trouble. Please remind me again why I didn’t just wipe them out?”

  “Because your days as a sociopathic goddess of death are over, my love.” He placed a steaming pancake on her plate. “Want to let our children know breakfast is ready?”

  “No need, Daddy,” Alexis chirped from the doorway.

  Gabriel followed her in. “We smelled the pancakes.”