by Dan Worth
Anna emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, towelling her black hair dry. Isaacs took a moment to admire her naked body. He had to admit, she kept herself in pretty good shape. At least these past couple of weeks had given the pair of them some time to themselves. Just being with her; he felt like a missing piece of him had been slotted back into place. He felt like a whole person once more. They had soon slipped back into old habits, but this time it was much better than before, just like when they’d first met.
She eyed him through a tangle of damp hair.
‘You’re awake at last then,’ she said. ‘Thought I was going to have to throw a bucket of water over you to get you to wake up.’
‘Yeah, well I think I had one more drink than I intended last night.’
‘Oh, because I had to force you to get another one.’
‘Well we got talking to those guys and we all seemed to be getting on so well.’
‘Only because the little one fancied me.’
‘Huh, really?’
‘Yeah. You know he’d have been just the right size to have on my ship. He’d take up less room under the console. Handy for those long flights.’
‘Oh really?’ He sprang up from the covers and made a grab for her as she roared with laughter. ‘Didn’t know you were into dwarves.’
‘Ah, I see we’re awake now,’ she grinned. ‘Come on, get washed and dressed. I arranged to meet with the harbour-master of this place last night, whilst you were absorbing the local colour. He said he had something interesting to show us.’
‘Well I’ve got something interesting to show you,’ he responded with a playful leer and made another attempt to grab her.
‘Hmm, yes well I’ve seen it many times before thank you. Now get in that shower, you stink of booze.’
Isaacs stood in the shower and felt the jets of hot water wash away some of the previous night’s after-effects. He rubbed his eyes free of sleep and reached for the bottle of shampoo.
‘Cal!’ He heard Anna calling him from the bedroom. ‘Cal, you’d better come and see this.’
What did she want? Grumbling to himself he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, then dripping wet he waddled back into the bedroom.
‘What is it? I only just got into the shower you know,’ he asked testily.
‘See for yourself,’ she said and pointed at the screen.
Isaacs looked and saw a shot taken from inside a vast dry dock, presumably from inside the fortress harbour of Southern Fleet Command. In the foreground stood a raised dais with a lectern, upon which stood Admiral Morgan of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and seated next to him, Admiral Cox. Both men were dressed in freshly pressed, dress uniforms. In front of them, ranks of temporary seating held a large number of senior figures from the Navy, Army and Marine Corp, as a well as a number of suited figures some of whom Isaacs recognised as governors and senators from a variety of systems across this part of space. The governor of the Spica system, Anton Salvatore, sat in the front row. Behind them, a gaggle of journalists and broadcast crews jostled for position to get the best view of the dais, behind which the vast space of the dock lay shrouded in darkness.
‘Admiral Morgan is about to speak,’ said the commentator, stating the obvious as Morgan’s tall, muscular form approached the lectern. The Vice Admiral stroked his greying beard thoughtfully for a moment and consulted a datapad, and then he began to address the audience.
‘I speak to you now at a time of great crisis. Our civilian government, elected by all humanity to represent us, has shown itself unfit to govern. Riven by corruption, dishonesty and the ambitions of self seeking plutocrats it has betrayed our trust and left our entire civilisation vulnerable whilst concealing from us the very dangers that face us. As the sworn protectors of all humanity and our allies, it is our duty to act where our government is incapable or unwilling to do so.
For several years now, we have known of a growing alien menace beyond our borders, one that presents a far more serious threat that the K’Soth Empire ever did. Known as ‘The Shapers’, they are an ancient and terrible race of creatures that seek to supplant or enslave all life. Their technology is thousands of millennia more advanced than our own, their servants numberless and their minds implacable. For aeons they have lurked on their worlds close to the galactic core and now they move against us.
Our intelligence has managed to glean some clues as to their tactics. We know that the Shapers seek to destabilise those societies that they plan to enslave before direct confrontation takes place, in order to weaken their victims before they strike. They achieve this via covert techniques whereby the minds and bodies of persons in key positions are taken over by parasitic organisms and bent to their will. It is also our assessment that this has occurred within the Commonwealth already, that our government’s corruption, inaction and counterproductive policies are the result of such alien influences. I have compiled a dossier of all the intelligence that we have regarding the Shapers as well as a list of politicians and military personnel that we believe have been supplanted. This includes the President, numerous members of the cabinet, Fleet Admiral Haines and a number of other leading military figures from all branches of the services including Special Operations Command and the intelligence community.’
There were gasps of disbelief from the audience and some shaking of heads.
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Isaacs, turning to Anna. ‘He’s trying to turn the whole thing around against us. There’ll be chaos if anyone believes him.’
‘I realise that this is hard to believe,’ said Morgan above the clamour of voices. ‘I found it hard to accept it myself, however I assure you that it is the truth, however hard we may find it to stomach. Were it not for the evidence obtained by my esteemed colleague Admiral Cox and his team of engineers and scientists including the eminent archaeologist Dr Charles Reynaud, I too would remain unconvinced. Cox and his team have successfully recovered a crashed Shaper vessel from a moon in the Hadar system and from its memory banks we have gained important intelligence data as to their intentions and strategy. Furthermore, we hope to examine its advanced technology here in Spica and use it to our own advantage. I give you now, the face of our new enemy.’
With that, the lights in the dock came up to full, revealing the hulking shape that floated there in zero gravity. The Shaper vessel. It loomed over Morgan and Cox. Its vast segmented bow section seemed to glower at the audience like a great predator examining its prey. The assembled dignitaries shrank before it. There were gasps of awe then a troubled silence.
‘The enemy has thousands, perhaps millions of ships like this. This craft is only a scout vessel, yet we believe it to be capable of besting Commonwealth ships many times its tonnage. Make no mistake; our civilisation is in the direst peril. To this end I am declaring a state of martial law within the Commonwealth. As head of the Navy I am assuming responsibility for the security of all citizens until this crisis is over. Until that time, the civilian government of the Commonwealth is suspended. All military units are now under my command. Those that fail to recognise the new chain of command will be treated as renegades and will be dealt with accordingly. All of you that I have invited here today are people we feel that we can trust. I know that you will do the right thing. As patriotic citizens we must stand together for the good of all. I appeal to the people of the Commonwealth to support us in this difficult time and to remain vigilant. Thank you.’
With that he stepped down from the dais amid a barrage of shouted questions from the assembled journalists and was spirited away by marine guards. An aide began to distribute printed copies of the dossier to the audience, who grabbed eagerly at the thick, glossy tomes.
The transmission cut back to the studio, where a stunned looking anchorwoman attempted to maintain her composure.
‘Shocking words from the Admiral, who has apparently declared himself as de facto leader in place of the President. This... looks like the beginning of a military coup. We go live now to
our political correspondent…’
Isaacs and Anna sat in stunned silence as the key moments from Morgan’s speech were repeated with commentary.
‘This looks like the beginnings of civil war,’ said Isaacs.
‘Yeah, assuming anyone buys it,’ Anna replied.
‘How could they not? Morgan’s turned the entire story on its head. All of it is true except the people involved. How many people have already fallen under the influence of the Shapers? Let’s face it; most of the lower ranks of the military will fall in line if they think they’re acting in our interests.’
‘Maybe, but what about the people? They aren’t going to accept a suspension of democracy, are they?’
‘Who knows? Morgan held out the promise of a restoration of government, and most will be too scared by the threat he’s shown them to care. Think about it: we only had an inkling that something was going on. Most people will have had no idea whatsoever. They’re frightened and shocked and Morgan is offering them the choice between his protection and strong leadership or a weak and divided government.’
‘We need to keep a very close eye on what happens next in this system,’ said Anna. ‘Find out all we can and report back to Chen. She and Haines will need all the intel that they can get. Surely the units under different commands won’t turn so easily?’
‘I think you’re right. Haines is a popular and respected commander. The men and women under his command will need a damn sight more than Morgan’s accusations to turn against him. Morgan might be able to turn most of the Southern Fleet, but the North and Eastern commands are battle hardened and mostly loyal to Haines, I’d say.’
‘This isn’t going to end well, is it?’
‘No. No it’s not. By the way, what did your harbourmaster contact want to tell us?’
‘Something about high numbers of weapons shipments coming through here. Much more than the usual training supplies he said.’
‘Shit. We need to go and see him then.’
They dressed, grabbed a quick bite to eat from the hotel breakfast buffet and then made their way towards the meeting point; a warehouse close to the dock end of the habitat only a short walk from the hotel. Already Isaacs could sense the change in air. People scurried about the streets, heads down, worried expressions upon their faces. Others strained to peer at screens in the bars, cafes and public spaces, watching endless repeats of Morgan’s speech and the recycled punditry on the news channels. As they walked, a number of police transports hummed quickly overhead on AG, descending quickly to deploy their cargoes of flak jacketed and armed figures. Isaacs was unsure whether they were intended as a re-assurance or a threat.
‘So, this guy just came up to you in the bar and offered to divulge this data?’
‘No, of course not. Maria knows him from way back. He used to help her move items through here for a kickback. He’s good people. We helped him out last year when the Sirius Syndicate were trying to muscle in on the dock workers’ contracts. One good turn…’
‘Yeah I get it.’
They walked on through the nervous crowds, the light tube overhead brightening to a simulated mid-day glare causing people to squint at handheld screens and wall mounted displays. There weren’t many aliens on the streets he noticed. Morgan’s dire warning about pernicious alien influences must be making them nervous.
The warehouse was located in an out of the way industrial park close to the docks that belonged to one of the smaller shipping companies operating in the system. Empty cargo containers were stacked high around the functional box of a building, creating a metal walled maze around the perimeter. As they approached, a squat figure emerged from between two battered containers stamped with the stencilled logo of a locally based electronics concern. He was dressed in a faded t-shirt and jeans, the animated design on the shirt having long since stuck on a single frame of a basketball player jumping to slam-dunk the ball. His balding pate was beaded with sweat. He looked at them nervously and then askance at the street to make sure no-one else was around.
‘Hey, Anna.’
‘Hey, Nikolai. This is my husband Cal, you remember him last night from the bar?’
‘Yeah. Hey man, you’re looking a little worse for wear this morning.’
‘Ah yeah, you could say that. Can’t say waking up to the news this morning did me much good either.’
‘Fucking thing came through whilst I was working. Jesus, you know I had these right in my desk drawer?’ He waved a sheaf of print outs. ‘Damn near shit myself. I thought to myself, if someone finds me with these, then that’s it. Something is very wrong here man, very wrong. What the fuck does Morgan think he’s doing?’
‘Trying to start a coup, that’s what,’ said Anna.
‘No fucking kidding. You need to take a look at these. Some heavy shit has been coming through here lately.’
Isaacs looked at him quizzically
‘I wasn’t aware that the military tended to declare the contents of their cargo runs to civilians.’
‘They don’t, but anything that comes through the station has to be recorded. Military stuff just gets marked down as that. Since they stopped civilian traffic from entering the inner system we’ve had a lot more. Civilian haulers from the arms manufacturers have been dropping cargoes for military haulers to pick up. They never declare what they are, but I know enough about cargo to recognise ammo crates and star-ship parts when I see them - great fucking blast-proof things. You know I figured at first they were for an exercise or something, but this stuff has been coming through here in huge quantities. Then you guys showed up last night, and now this.’
‘Thanks Nikolai, we appreciate it. I’ll arrange payment via the usual people, and it’ll definitely be worth your trouble.’
‘No problem. It’s all there from the past three weeks. I bet you’d find similar if you asked around the other trading hubs in the system.’
‘You know, I think we will.’
‘I gotta go before I’m missed. See you around.’
He looked nervously at the street and then hurried away.
‘Jesus, he looked rattled,’ said Isaacs.
‘Wouldn’t you be? The guy could lose more than his job if he gets caught. Come on, we’ll look at this later,’ said Anna and stuffed the folded pages inside her jacket.
They made their way back through the streets to the hotel. The police were now definitely out in force. Isaacs eyed their blue and white armoured forms with suspicion.
‘You know, I really think we ought to get back to Port Royal as soon as we can. I don’t like the look of this at all. It could turn ugly once people have got over the shock of Morgan’s announcement.’
‘Yeah and if it does, there’s a good chance they’ll shut down the port and we could end up stuck here for the duration,’ Anna replied. ‘Let’s grab our stuff and go.’
They checked out of the hotel and made their way on foot to the docking bay where the Jilted Lover currently resided under the assumed name Brass Monkey. The clumps of police and port authority security gave them only cursory glances as they returned to the ship. Isaacs’ heart thudded in his chest. His attempts to act nonchalant were, paradoxically, making him feel more self conscious. Anna, on the other hand, appeared cool as ice, though whether she was just better at hiding her nerves he couldn’t tell.
In the end, they reached the docking bay without any mishaps where the flattened fish shape of the Jilted Lover sat in a row of other assorted vessels of similar size. They climbed aboard and Isaacs requested departure whilst Anna spun up the engines and completed the pre-flight checks. The dock lift hoisted them upwards towards the centrally mounted airlock with a jolt of sudden acceleration and then the hum of electrics and gearing before coming to a halt in the lock. There was a brief pause before the outer doors opened, displaying the slowly rotating star-field and the partially illuminated face of the planet Venice, its azure seas, loops of island chains and atolls hidden beneath whorls of cloud.
Anna hit
the throttle and moved the ship smoothly out into space, touching the manoeuvring thrusters a little to counter-act the rotation induced by the station. Traffic around the station appeared normal. The comings and goings of freighters, liners and tugs were apparently undisturbed by the recent events.
‘See?’ said Isaacs. ‘Piece of cake. I’ll get those jump co-ordinates punched in and we’ll be on our way once we clear traffic control. Then we can have a look at what your friend gave us.’
‘Sure,’ Anna replied, her eyes scanning the controls. Ten kilometres ahead, a boxy cargo hauler with a single cargo container clasped to its hull was approaching the traffic control boundary and preparing to jump. Anna watched its drives flare, pushing it forward at greater speed before it disappeared into hyperspace. She watched the distance to the boundary count down on the HUD. Suddenly with alarm, she noticed a large incoming warp signature. It was way off course, well outside the approved ingress routes. What the hell was he doing? Jesus, he was going to emerge right on top of them! She had a very bad feeling about this.
‘Cal,’ she began to say, before the Callisto class cruiser emerged from its jump right in front of them, the gray, shovel-nosed craft looming large and head-on in the cockpit glass.