The Borrega Test

by James Vincett

  “Marcus Braden Cortez.”

  That voice. Cortez turned and saw McFinn standing a few meters away. The man smiled as he stepped forward and shook Cortez’ hand. Not him.

  “My God, Cortez! How long has it been?

  Cortez’ face started to itch. “Captain McFinn.”

  “Hey, you made Captain before I did! A full two years, I think! The last time I saw you was probably fifteen years ago, on the surface of the third moon of Anuvi III.”

  “That’s correct.” Cortez zoomed his vision and other senses onto McFinn’s face. The man had been drinking: Cortez saw the smooth sheen of sweat, the accelerated heart rate, the expanded blood vessels, the enlarged pupils, the fast eye movements. From his breath, Cortez calculated McFinn had a blood alcohol level of around eight grams per hundred milliliters of blood.

  “Do you know they’re teaching your little trick that took out that Naati battlecarrier at the Academy? They call it the ‘Cortez Maneuver.’ When we were back at the Academy did you ever think something like that would happen?”

  McFinn chatted on about the past and Cortez just nodded, replying with a nod and a ‘yes’ or ‘of course’ every few sentences. The man seem genuinely pleased to see him, but Cortez had no feeling whatsoever. McFinn was just a memory to him, and not a useful one at that.

  “I read that you have built quite a career with the Fifth Fleet,” McFinn said. “Congratulations! Your exploits are the stuff of every ensign’s bar gossip. I’ve been stuck in Logistics on an ice-cube of a world for the last seven years, but I finally escaped. What’s your status?”

  “Awaiting orders.”

  McFinn lowered his voice. “I’ve been assigned to the Diplomatic Corps. All very hush-hush, but it’s gonna be pretty big, I’m sure.”

  Despite his irritation, Cortez wanted to tell McFinn all he had seen and experienced over the years. The feeling was sudden, intense, almost overwhelming. Maybe he would understand. “Captain McFinn, do you have time--”

  McFinn looked at his pockcomp. “Uh-oh, time to go. I have to make the docking ring in fifteen. The next time we see each other, let’s go for a drink in the Officer’s Club!” The man turned and walked away.

  That’s Finny: breezy and insincere.

  Cortez turned and looked out of the port. The itch, along with the awkward and intense feelings he had earlier, dissolved in a few moments, and he was back to his rational analytic self.

  Admiral Pendleton summoned him not an hour later. The Admiral had worked his way to the top after decades of patrol duty, and did not suffer fools or wimps gladly. He was a bear of a man, barrel-chested, with a full head of silver hair and craggy features.

  “At ease, Captain. Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It seems they want to take you away from me.” The Admiral sat at his desk and tapped a computer console.

  “Sir?”

  “The suits have something brewing, some sort of peace deal with the spineys. A load of horseshit, I say. Probably just some scheme cooked up by a pencil-necked minister to increase his standing at Court. Whatever the case, you’re being transferred, effective immediately.”

  “Transferred, sir?”

  “To the Expeditionary Fleet. They’re stealing some of my best officers for this fairy tale. We of the Fifth have the most experience with those wily spiney bastards, and they need our help. I’m giving it, grudgingly.” He tapped a key on the console. “Your orders are on your pockcomp. There’s a courier leaving in a few hours. Be on it.” The Admiral stood. “You’re one of the finest officers with whom I’ve ever served, Captain Cortez: fearless, uncompromising, a hard-charger. I’m recommending you for the Distinguished Service Medal, First Class, and you’ll get it. Know that the work you have done with the Fifth Fleet has meant much for the Union. I’m sad to lose you.” He saluted.

  Cortez returned his salute. “Thank you, sir.”

  “If I am any judge, this whole effort will fail, and we’ll be back at war. Mark my words.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Dismissed.”

  Cortez made his way back to the observation deck, a light, airy feeling in his chest. All the hard work, the loneliness, the long patrols, had paid off. He sensed his life was about to change, and he was eager to meet the challenge. He also knew the meeting with McFinn was more than chance; Finny was involved with this somehow, and he was looking forward to finding out how.

  McFinn

  “When was the envoy due?” Admiral Cassius Tor stood ramrod straight in his duty fatigues. He was an enormous presence on the command deck of the Crius: he stood just under two meters in height, with a wide chest and thick gut. His curly black hair had long since gone gray, and his quick brown eyes did not miss a thing.

  “Yesterday,” McFinn replied. He sat at a communications console, and had each day for the past week, ready to receive the first transmission from the special operations ship due to return from Borrega. He also wanted to keep busy, and thought assisting with communications for the Ambassador’s Fleet would keep him in the loop of what was going on without getting too much in the way of the battleship’s crew.

  “Well, these things take time, I guess. I have never known the Directorate to be early. When is the Senator due?”

  “Three days at most.”

  “Good. It’ll give the Coral Sea a bit more time to run her fighters through some exercises.”

  After bidding farewell to Her Majesty, McFinn took a fast courier to Finwarden Station. Bearing orders from the Crown, McFinn spoke with Grand Admiral Magoro, who appointed Admiral Tor commander. McFinn helped Tor to evaluate and select vessels and crews of the Fifth Fleet, which would escort Senator Arrington to Borrega: a battleship, a light carrier with eighty-one fighters, a heavy cruiser, four light cruisers, a fast courier, and an assault transport with a battalion of Imperial Marines. The Crown wanted a notable presence, since the Senator represented Her Majesty on this diplomatic mission, but did not want to seem too threatening. McFinn thought the Ambassador’s Fleet a bit too intimidating, but he was glad for the protection it offered.

  Upon leaving Finwarden, they flew to Zamora Forward Deployment Area. They were to wait for the return of a Directorate special operations ship, which flew to Borrega to make first contact, and to await the arrival of Senator Arrington.

  “Hypershunt detected,” one of the command crew called out. “One point five astronomical units, bearing zero one three mark two five.”

  “Just one vessel?” Tor asked.

  “Just one.” The crewmember paused. “Viper class special operations ship. It has no active ECM.”

  “Receiving a transmission,” McFinn said. “Tight beam coded and masked. Yes, this is the envoy. They are requesting permission to rendezvous with the Fleet.”

  “Granted,” Tor said. “Have them dock on the Crius. I believe this is your show, Captain.”

  “Yes, Admiral. I’ll greet them on the flight deck.”

  McFinn waited beside one of the fighters on the Crius’ flight deck. The special operations ship slid through the force field covering the flight deck entrance and touched down without a bump. The vessel looked somewhat like an elongated arrowhead, three times the size of a fighter. Dead black in color, it had a smooth hull and no visible weapons. After a few moments, the side hatch opened and a set of stairs lowered from the hull. A man wearing a black tunic and pants emerged from the ship and descended the stairs. He had a black beard, cropped hair, and wore a wide belt with a large holster.

  “Agent Stanislaus, I presume?” McFinn asked.

  “The same.” The two men shook hands. “Captain McFinn, your reputation precedes you.”

  “You had a successful mission?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Stanislaus looked up to the ship’s hatch. “Your Excellency?”

  McFinn saw a brown face look out from the ship’s hatch. The man’s brown eyes looked as wide as saucers and his mouth hung open. He emerg
ed from the ship and descended the stairs, looking all around him. He wore a jacket bearing several medals on the chest, black slacks and shoes, and a golden sword and scabbard hung from his belt. Another man followed, and McFinn thought the two could be brothers, but the second man wore dark gray fatigues and a black beret; a pistol holster hung from his belt and a rifle of some sort slung over his shoulder. His bearing was more military, and seemingly more suspicious. Two more GID Agents followed.

  “Your Excellency, may I present Captain Joshua McFinn, one of the Imperial Navy’s most respected officers and Ambassador Arrington’s attaché. Captain, it is my honor to present His Excellency Arasces Gul, nephew of His Highness Sajad I Gul, The Shah of Borrega. His Excellency is Borrega’s envoy to the Hominin Union.” As Agent Stanislaus spoke, his pocket computer translated his introduction into a language McFinn did not recognize.

  Arasces bowed and spoke, and Agent Stanislaus’ pockcomp translated. “Captain. I am eager to meet the Union Ambassador.”

  McFinn glanced at the second man, and Agent Stanislaus got the hint. “This man is Bahram, His Excellency’s bodyguard.” The man in the fatigues bowed slightly.

  “We are expecting the Ambassador soon,” McFinn said. “It would be my honor if I could escort you to your quarters here on the Crius.”

  “I wonder, Captain McFinn,” Arasces asked, “if you could give me a tour of this marvelous vessel?”

  “Of course, Your Excellency. It would be my pleasure.”

  This historical nature of this introduction was not lost on McFinn. There had never been formal relations between the Hominin Union and the Shah of Borrega, yet the latter was the leader of a people that had originated on Earth. McFinn sincerely hoped he could play a part in establishing peaceful relations between the Union and Borrega.

  Twenty-four hours later McFinn found himself back on the Crius’ flight deck, this time wearing his full dress uniform. The Borregan envoy stood on his right, and Admiral Tor stood on his left. To the Admiral’s left stood the commanding officer of the the 959th Imperial Marine Battalion. To his left stood a platoon of Marines, ramrod straight in their long gray coats and white peaked caps. Each had an ancient M-66 battle rifle over his or her shoulder. The captains of the other ships in the fleet and another platoon of Marines stood opposite, twenty meters away.

  A fast courier slid through the force field covering the flight deck entrance and set down. McFinn could see the pilot and co-pilot through the courier’s cockpit windows. After several minutes, the forward door opened and lowered down to the deck. A man and a woman descended the staircase and stood at either side on the deck. A few moments later, the Ambassador descended the stairs. When she reached the flight deck all of the naval officers and Marines saluted, the snapping sound of the gesture filling the flight deck. She wore a deep purple jacket and knee length skirt, a jeweled tiara on her head and a sash of medals across her body. She was tall, slim, and appeared about forty years old. She smiled when she saw McFinn and held out her hands as she approached. Her teeth were blindingly white, her hair dark, and the white skin of her face smooth as porcelain.

  “Captain McFinn. Her Majesty has told me all about you.”

  McFinn blushed and took her hands in his. “Your Excellency. I hope your journey was pleasant.”

  “The Navy spared no expense in assuring my comfort.”

  “May I present His Excellency Arasces Gul, nephew of His Highness Sajad I Gul, The Shah of Borrega. His Excellency is Borrega’s envoy to the Hominin Union. Excellency, may I present Her Excellency Frances Arrington, Senator for Phoenix and Imperial Ambassador.”

  The Ambassador and the Envoy bowed and shook hands. “Greetings and salutations from His Highness, the Shah of Borrega,” the envoy said, McFinn’s pockcomp translating. “The Shah sends his warmest regards to Her Majesty, and is delighted to serve as host for the upcoming negotiations.”

  “I am looking forward to meeting His Highness.” Arrington took McFinn’s arm and leaned close. McFinn smelled her perfume: lilacs. “Let’s get the introductions and inspection done with,” she whispered. “I’m hungry.”

  Why am I so nervous? When Her Majesty had ordered McFinn to assist the Ambassador, he thought the whole idea was ludicrous. He believed any negotiations with the Naati had no hope of succeeding. However, as he reviewed the available intelligence his interest grew, until finally he became more confident of success. As he exchanged communications with Arrington, he became a true believer. The woman’s long tenure as a Senator and experience with other negotiations convinced him the plan was not only doable, but also necessary.

  Peace with the Naati Hegemony! If he could be a part of that, he would count his career a success.

  “Now that we are underway, Her Excellency has asked me to brief you on the coming negotiations.” McFinn stood behind a podium on a stage in the Crius’ briefing room. The Borregan envoy, the captains of each ship in the fleet, Admiral Tor, and the commanding officer of the Marine battalion were all present. Arrington had retired to her quarters; she knew all of this information and felt she would just be a distraction.

  McFinn cleared his throat. “Ten months ago the General Intelligence Directorate, with the assistance of the Imperial Navy, helped a member of the Naati Command Authority defect to the Union.”

  The assembled officers gasped and immediately started to talk among themselves. McFinn let the conversation go on for a few moments and then continued.

  “This defector provided us with information about extraordinary political developments that have taken place within the Naati Hegemony over the last several years. However, in order to understand these events, we first need to look at some background information. Prior to the Anuvi Incident fifteen years ago, the Naati did not undertake any serious incursions into Union space for almost forty years. There were some attempts to intercept communications and make contact with agents in the Union, but these incursions were relatively bloodless. During this time, a faction known as the Tolkists held power. They believed in studying Humans and Hominins rather than provoking us, and hoped to gain enough insight into our physiology and psychology, and Union society, in order to exploit any weaknesses. The Intelligence Directorate confirmed the last prominent architect of that strategy, a Naati called Moosta, was killed during the Battle of Anuvi III.”

  “One development of note, during the Anuvi Incident, the Naati’s yallic slaves managed to successfully combine the DNA of ancient alien beings known as the Harbingers found on the third moon of Anuvi III with four Naati subjects. These four, which I will from now on refer to as hybrids, were transported back to the Hegemony. These four hybrids would have profound influence on later events due to the abilities they gained as a result of the Harbinger DNA.”

  “In the years after the Anuvi Incident, the Hegemony pulled back. The Naati abandoned some systems close to the neutral zone, and left others with only a few troops and vessels to keep order. At first, our intelligence agencies found these moves baffling, but they have since learned of infighting on the Naati Command Authority, probably caused by the death of Moosta, and a new faction emerged, now known as the Reactionaries. Seven years after the Anuvi Incident, the Naati began to conduct aggressive raids into Union space. They would enter a border system with a sparsely populated colony, kill the inhabitants, gather up as much technology as they could and then retreat into the Neutral Zone. It later became obvious that these raids were intended to draw in our own naval vessels so the Naati could disable and board the ships to steal technology and gain intelligence.”

  Despite his best efforts, images of the boarding action and Cavanagh’s death filled his mind. He paused for a moment, and then continued.

  “Raids began in 2640, and occurred through ‘44, and in ‘46. Because these raids did not penetrate too far into Union Space, the Ministry of War decided that rather than undertake an equivalent response, it would minimize the damage. The Navy increased patrols and the successfully repulsed the final three atte
mpts.”

  “Union intelligence agencies now believe the Naati Command Authority is very close to fracturing completely. Seven members of the Authority comprise the Tolkist faction, while six comprise the Reactionaries. A younger generation of Naati leads the Reactionaries. We believe each faction has pulled naval and military forces back from the Neutral Zone to prepare for conflict.”

  “The Hegemony is on the cusp of civil war, ladies and gentleman. The Tolkist faction has contacted the Hominin Union to request negotiations for assistance in fighting the Reactionaries. The Chief Negotiator for the Tolkist faction is a Naati known as Fangrik. Around 2615 Fangrik was expelled from the Command Authority by Moosta for heresy, but we do not know the exact circumstances.”

  “The negotiations will take place on the world of Borrega, located in the Neutral Zone. We have long known about Borrega, and we have long sought any means to integrate the Human inhabitants of that world into the Union. Therefore, our goal in these negotiations is to secure agreement from the Naati for Union annexation of Borrega. This will not only bring Humans back into union with their fellows, but also provide us with a forward deployment area to provide support to the Tolkist faction. As a show of good faith, the Union will provide Borrega with technology transfers to upgrade their infrastructure.”

  McFinn nodded at the Borregan envoy and continued. “The upcoming negotiations on Borrega are crucial: if the Union can secure an alliance with the Tolkists and occupy Borrega, the Union can provide critical support to the Tolkists so that faction can re-establish its dominance on the Command Authority. In return for this assistance the Tolkists have promised to sign a peace treaty with the Union.”

  The assembled officers began to speak, some even to clap. McFinn let them talk among themselves for a moment, and then continued.

  “This is an historic opportunity; the Naati have been a major threat for almost two centuries, and the Union undertakes, at great expense, defense against possible conflict with the Hegemony. If we can neutralize this threat, the resulting peace can free up hundreds of trillions of credits for better use elsewhere. Peace with the Naati Hegemony and the integration of Borrega into the Union will bring glory to Her Majesty, the Imperial Navy, and the Hominin Union.”