The Alliance

by Jason Letts

  “I love it,” he said. “We’re going to need two things: a proper launch mechanism from the ship and a good space suit for Lena to make her trip in. Fortunately I think that Alliance cargo hold can help with the latter there. It had some of those compressed oxygen tanks and the new, reinforced space suits. I’m sure Verche won’t mind if we get one of them back. The whole thing is barely bulkier than a wet suit.”

  “Time to dive in!” Lena said.

  The Assailing Face departed from Pluto en route to Earth a few days later when all of the details had been ironed out and all of the necessary supplies were gathered. Besides a lot of liquefied Plutoan specialties, Rion also assembled a launcher inside the ship’s airlock, which would eject Lena at the proper time and at the proper speed to have her hit the target. All they would need to do would be to turn the ship slightly to achieve the correct angle. Any other pilots who saw that would merely think they were flying drunk and smirk it off.

  Rion also got much more familiar with the ship’s link to the Alliance database, and now that he had time to kill while Bailor programmed and Lena performed a yoga routine in the cabin, he planned to make more personal usage of it.

  The database had an incredible index of places, companies, and people. The first thing he did was enter his own name, Rion Istlegaard. Much of the information that came up had to do with his time working at Gravilinx and his brief stint with the Alliance. There was no doubt that it was him. It turned out he’d also been identified years after breaking in to the Regent’s Center on Mars, but that information was never released publicly. For some reason they were never able to dredge up Bailor or Lena’s names in relation to that, as Rion found when he searched for them.

  Moving on to the things he really wanted to find out about, he attempted a search for the names of his parents, Orson and Mary. A blank screen came up, which shocked him. He entered the names again and got the same lack of result, then made other queries for any name he could think of to see if the system was malfunctioning. After a while spent eliminating the possibilities, Rion was left convinced that his parents were not present in a database that contained information on everyone.

  Entering only Istlegaard brought up records for dozens of families, but tellingly none of them were from Venus. There were too many Orson’s and Mary’s to sort through in a year, and flipping through a few pages of results got him nowhere. He then did a search for Commander Hobart and Chancellor Yetrue to see if high-ranking Alliance officials were somehow exempt from the database. While their records were unmistakably doctored, there was something there. His parents, on the other hand, didn’t appear to exist.

  He stared dumbfounded at the screen until Bailor came in with a cup full of what they referred to as yellow liquid goodness. After explaining the conundrum, Bailor shook his head.

  “My first thought is that they were erased,” Bailor said. “Whether they were on the outs before or after they left you, someone might’ve wanted to rub them out of history completely because of something they knew or did.”

  “It’s for the best,” Rion said, repeating the last words he’d heard his father use before leaving forever. “Maybe they were deleted in every sense of the word, but I’m still open to the possibility he’s being hidden, after all he was so friendly with Hobart that day on Mars. What if he was involved in something so secret that it superseded even Chancellor Yetrue in terms of being classified? Or perhaps Yetrue is in there because everyone is aware of him, but my parents weren’t famous like that. They might be hidden because they could be hidden.”

  “Whoa…” Bailor said, wide eyed.

  Bailor went back to work, unable to do more than nod politely as Rion spun what amounted to conspiracy theories. He continued to try to exhume any information that could lead him in the right direction. Commander Hobart was a mere captain when he was with Rion’s father. Attempts to search for the expansion-era Alliance passcode that was on his disc never hit on anything useful.

  Days passed, and Lena spent more and more of them doing strength training in preparation for her mission. Rion often tried to join her, but he couldn’t keep pace with her stamina for long. She was a physiological marvel.

  “Are you at all afraid?” he asked her one night when they were looking over some imaging scans of the area around the facility. A handful of Alliance ships were sure to be in the area. If anyone spotted her, a single shot would disintegrate her.

  “No,” she said. “Even if something happens to me, I’ll be fine.”

  Rion peered at her, wondering what that meant. The way she said it was so casual that it might’ve seemed strange for him to go on about it. Worrying needlessly on her behalf wasn’t how he wanted to come off, especially since he did believe she could do it.

  “I know you will,” he said.

  “What about you? Are you afraid?” she asked. She’d been sitting against the bare, flat wall for over ten minutes but looked as comfortable as though she were on a sofa.

  “You mean flying the ship while you’re out flying through space? I think I’ll be able to manage.”

  Rion had gotten plenty of time to practice on the trip. He’d negotiated the orbit around Venus and the immersion into the traffic lane that would take them past their target. They were almost there and the time to execute was coming up quickly.

  “Looks like a sleepy section of space,” Bailor said, commenting on the current scans of the area around the distribution facility.

  “Traffic is a little heavier than usual. Except for whoever’s immediately behind us, no one will probably notice. And the dark suit will make her nearly invisible except for her extremely low heat signature,” Rion noted.

  “Are you saying I’m cold?” Lena asked, feigning offense. At the moment she had the torch in her hands that she’d be using to cut through the radiator strip near the control room. Whether it would also be used to kill anyone who happened to be inside the nest atop the station was something they left unsaid. Rion felt pity for anyone who happened to cross Lena’s path during the mission.

  The first sign they got that they were nearing their target was a clear view of Earth lit up by the sun. Known cynically as the gray planet, much of the oceans had been paved over and thick clouds choked a substantial portion of the atmosphere. Those dark clouds were forcibly absent from patches of green, where the agra-centers were.

  Abruptly, Lena clapped her hands and got up from her seat. She rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck, like she was preparing for a race.

  “It’s time to suit up,” she said.

  When she came back in the tight space suit that accentuated her curves, Rion felt a rush of blood to the head that almost made him pass out. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought she volunteered for the mission just to wear it and torture him. The two compression tanks fit in back behind her shoulder blades and the material was almost as dark as her hair and eyes. If something powerful and beautiful were stepping out of the void into this plane of existence, it would look a lot like she did now.

  She didn’t need much encouragement, but Rion did know one thing to say that would make her happy.

  “Do something no one else could do,” he said.

  “And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll go on without you,” Bailor said.

  Lena sniffed like she was going to tear up.

  “Thanks, guys. That means a lot.”

  She nodded at them as she turned and went to the airlock, where she would be flung out of the ship and sent flying across space to the bottom of the distribution facility, where she would use a tethered magnet not too different from a Martian lasso to latch on. Rion had had to insist she try not to catch it as she flew at breakneck speeds. The lasso would stretch and slow her down enough that she could crawl up it and get a hold of the station’s exterior.

  Rion and Bailor took their places in the cockpit. Bailor had an intense look on his face and Rion knew it was game time as well. The best part was going to be when he sent word out to
all of the regencies about the incoming food shipments. He could visualize it happening.

  His excitement rising, he cut the engines and initiated the ship rotation. One button would pop open the hatch to the airlock and activate the launching mechanism’s timing command. He stamped it with his thumb and then turned his eyes to the scanner, which had been specially tuned to pick up her signature. Other ships wouldn’t register a small unpropelled object like that unless there was a danger of a collision or it had the properties of a bomb.

  “There she goes,” Bailor said.

  Everything with the departure had gone off perfectly. Now all Rion and Bailor had to do was keep an eye on her while assuming orbit around Earth and then break into Mars bound traffic when the time came. They had about a half an hour to kill before she reached the facility, and then it could take her twice that to scale to the top depending on what kind of a pace she could set.

  In the meantime, Rion set a course to merge with orbiting traffic at a high altitude. He was about to pass out of sight of Lena and their target when he spotted two Alliance battle cruisers heading in the opposite direction from the area around the moon.

  “What do you think they’re doing? I don’t feel comfortable losing vision on Lena with that kind of firepower around. They might be scanning deeply enough to notice her.”

  Bailor winced.

  “We knew there’d be Alliance ships around. I don’t think we should deviate from our course.”

  But Rion got a bad feeling in his gut as he looked over the approaching ships. They were on track to pass by wide to their right, and there was no reason to think that the ship was in danger of a confrontation, but the cruisers would pass the distribution station so closely somebody staring out the window could spot Lena with their naked eyes.

  “Those aren’t just any cruisers. Take a look at the heavily armored structures around the command deck, the extra turrets, and the subtle design flourishes around the wings. That one strikes me as the Alliance flagship, meant to protect the chancellor from any bombardment.”

  “And you think they’re out patrolling the area for stray mineral deposits floating around the food distributor?”

  Despite the obvious logic of Bailor’s arguments, Rion couldn’t shake the feeling that their mission was already fully compromised. They would detect Lena, if not the Assailing Face, and move to intercept. A quick end was approaching if they didn’t act decisively.

  “You have to trust me,” Rion said, staring intently at Bailor as he hit the controls to veer right.

  Bailor’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

  “You’re putting us directly in the path of the cruisers. We wouldn’t even be a speed bump. They’ll crush us,” he said.

  “We have to buy Lena more time. Look at the scanners. She’s almost made it there. Once she pulls in the tether she’ll be safer.”

  They were now staring at the noses of the giant warships. Nerves crept in all the way to Rion’s fingers, and the only way to beat them back was to consider what he’d do if a firefight broke out. Would any of the ship’s tricks work on the most advanced vessel in the Alliance fleet?

  He could see Bailor getting more uncomfortable with the situation. The console flashed red as the cruiser broadcast an alert.

  “They’re telling you to get out of the way,” Bailor said, exasperated. “Do you really think they’ll change course to avoid us? And what would that buy, a minute?”

  Rion couldn’t respond because he was so focused on the moment. He hated the Alliance and knew a hundred examples of terrible things they’d done to people, but never once had a cruiser crashed into a civilian ship right around Earth. It was strange to be betting on their good nature.

  “There! They’re shifting course, moving wide farther away from the planet,” Rion said.

  “OK, you did it. Now let’s move back into orbit,” Bailor said begrudgingly.

  But Rion did the opposite. He moved to match their course change and remain dead in their path, forcing Bailor to look away and then put his head down. They were still hundreds of kilometers away but closing in fast. A yellow flash on the console signaled a com channel had been opened.

  “This is Commander Hobart of the Alliance ship Vestige. You are in violation of transit law. Adjust trajectory and velocity immediately to clear our path. We are unable to adjust further.”

  Hearing Hobart’s name brought Rion’s ire to a froth. He was a convenient target for the blame of being left behind all those years ago. Rion wasn’t playing chicken because of his past, not when ensuring Lena’s safety seemed like even more of a priority.

  “They’ll figure out what this ship is,” Bailor said at almost a whisper.

  Rion activated the microphone.

  “Commander Hobart, what is your destination?”

  All he wanted to know was that these Alliance cruisers weren’t planning to take position around the distribution facility. On the scanner, he watched as the dot representing Lena flew achingly close to its target. Every second the Vestige spent contemplating them was another second they didn’t notice Lena.

  “That’s no concern of yours. If you do not adjust immediately you will fail to vacate in time. We bear no responsibility…”

  Rion cut the channel and hit the engines as soon as Lena’s lasso hit home against the station’s lowest section. The Assailing Face pulled clear with scant room to spare, nearly making Bailor pass out.

  “She landed. The first leg of her journey is over,” Rion said, trying to shake Bailor back into a better frame of mind. Another yellow flash popped up on the console, this one from a mid-sized ship departing the Alliance’s shipyard on the other side of the moon.

  “But ours is just beginning. It’s getting deployed to come pick us up for breaking the law,” Bailor said. “We can’t get into a fight with the Alliance here. We’d be swarmed in no time.”

  Rion ignored the channel and instead focused on Bailor, who was forgetting something very important.

  “Trust the ship,” he said. “I’ll make sure we disappear. You keep an eye on the scanners and make sure no one starts sniffing around Lena while she climbs.”

  Merging back into heavy traffic required some fancy maneuvering, and the other pilots made it a painful ordeal. It wasn’t until Rion risked yet another crash that he made it into the lane.

  “I’ll start getting a read on the heat signatures of the other ships around us to see if we can match one with Heath’s flux transistor,” Bailor said, finally taking some initiative to help.

  “That’s great, but it might not be enough considering the good look the other ships got at us. We’re going to need to do more than modulate the engine’s output. It’s time for another look,” Rion said, pulling out a tray from under the main console.

  A trio of buttons represented positions for shifting panels along the Assailing Face’s exterior. An adjustable space between the cabin and the main engine would alter the length. With either one, by sight alone they’d appear different enough to pass.

  They had plenty of time between when the transformation was complete and when the Alliance ship came snooping around. Through the windshield, they kept their eyes fixed on it, even though the signal of an attack or a message would be first apparent on the com in front of them. Neither came and the ship continued on.

  “Poor suckers don’t even know who to hail without a heat signature,” Rion said, leaning back and enjoying a spin around Earth.

  “Don’t get too comfortable. Those cruisers aren’t leaving the area, and I can’t shake the possibility that the ship leaving the Alliance yard got called over to the distribution facility. Our escape may have been more a matter of luck than skill,” Bailor said.

  “Bad luck,” Rion said, taking a grim look at the scanners. Bailor was right that ships were congregating in the area around the station, the two cruisers a ways out but plenty of shuttles buzzing around and the mid-size ship approaching. He wouldn’t have wanted to be Lena right now
exposed to open space. A sense of dread filled the pit of his stomach.

  “What could she have done to tip them off from the exterior, climb over a window? We can’t risk a lap around the planet when they could close on her at any time. I’m turning around,” Rion said.

  Lena was only about half way up the station, roughly on par with some of the docking bays the barges used. One of them might’ve noticed her, a tough break. Rion swung the ship around and made for the facility with moderate haste.

  “Let’s tap into the Alliance channels and see if we can pick anything up,” Bailor suggested.

  They listened as they went but couldn’t tap into any discussion of a phantom climber or the station. Rion wished he had a way to communicate with Lena, but any transmitting device would’ve been the equivalent of a bulls-eye.

  The distribution facility came into view and with it the cadre of ships floating about. Lena was now almost three-quarters of the way up, but from what they could see she’d stopped completely. Rion drifted from the lane and made straight for the station.

  “Something’s wrong. She’s not moving,” Rion said, hitting the accelerator.

  “That’s not true. Look,” Bailor said.

  Rion gasped when he saw a flicker of light coming from her location, which was still far below her target. The light faded after a second but came back brighter and became more consistent. It was the torch.

  “What’s she trying to cut in there for? She’d have as good a chance at getting through that thick hull plating with a wooden spoon,” Bailor said.

  Rion shook his head. They needed to abort the mission.

  “Let’s move to extraction,” he said, looking over at Bailor, who got up and went toward the airlock to get it ready.

  Before he’d even left the cockpit, a flurry of red lights on the console warned them about approaching the distribution facility. After the recent game of chicken with the flagship cruiser, they weren’t going to get a pass for stepping out of line whether they were recognized or not. Rion ignored them and continued to push faster. Bailor grumbled to himself and stalked to the rear of the ship.