The Others

by Jay Allan

  “I’m asking you, Sandrine…please work with me on this. Please try to kill Gaston Villieneuve.”

  * * *

  “We have searched the Confederation vessel again, First Citizen. The crew gave us unrestricted access. There is no way Minister, that the fugitive, Ciara, is on that vessel.” The officer seemed a bit nervous, at least as much as Foudre Rouge ever got. Gaston Villieneuve had always been an unnerving presence, but since the coup attempt, he’d been a force of nature. He’d ordered thousands of executions, anyone involved in the coup attempt and those he imagined to be part of the cabal, too. No small number of innocents had met their ends in the weeks since Sandrine Ciara’s attempt to seize power, friends of those involved, families, household staff. And there were no signs the killings were going to stop anytime soon.

  Not while Ciara herself remained at large.

  “I am revoking the Confederation embassy’s credentials, effective one week from today. You will lead a detachment there to inform Ambassador Kerevsky personally that he is to be prepared to board his ship and leave Montmirail at that time. He will be escorted to the border by a naval squadron.”

  “Yes, First Citizen.” The Foudre Rouge major snapped off a perfect salute, and then he spun around on his heels and marched out of the room.

  Villieneuve let out a long sigh. He’d been operating on pure rage for the past month or more, and even for a man like him, such fury wore hard on one’s psyche. He’d become obsessed with finding Ciara and convinced the only way she could have eluded his trackers for so long was with Confederation help. He was no fool, whether she’d tried to treat him as one or not. He’d developed a good sense of the resources deployed in the failed coup attempt, and it seemed unlikely she’d been able to assemble that level of funding herself. Where money was involved, he always thought of the Confederation, and the recollections of that enemy’s vast wealth and the ways it had allowed them to best him so often, ratcheted the level of his anger ever higher.

  He’d had the embassy monitored around the clock, both from outside, and using the surveillance assets still hidden in the structure itself. The orbital platforms had scanned Ambassador Kerevsky’s ship without pause, and no shuttle had docked without first being thoroughly searched…officially for the purpose of ensuring the safety of Confederation personnel from renegade rebels who might do them harm. But all his efforts had come up blank. He’d even resorted to widespread searches, sending the Foudre Rouge out to break down doors throughout the city. His efforts had resulted in the capture of a few minor participants, but no sign at all of Sandrine Ciara. Even the captured plotters had failed to provide useful intelligence, despite…enthusiastic…interrogations. There had been a few vague mentions of Confederation involvement, but nothing sufficient to justify sending troops into the embassy…or turning the ambassador and his staff over to Sector Nine’s Inquisitors. He would have done it anyway, without justification, but with the apparent Hegemony withdrawal from the Rim, he simply couldn’t risk war with the Confederation. His forces weren’t ready. Not yet, at least.

  One day. I need a few more years, perhaps five…or a renewal of the war between the Confeds and the Hegemony. But the Union will have its revenge…and those rich and fat worlds of the Confederation will know obedience…

  He looked down at the screen, at the document he’d just given the major to deliver. He might not be able to capture and interrogate the Confederation ambassador, but sending him, and all of his staff, offworld would leave Ciara on her own. She’d evaded him, remained at large, for far too long.

  Let’s see how well you can hide without your allies, Sandrine…

  And when he finally found her, he would not only end the threat she represented with grim finality. Before he did, he would enjoy watching her broken, reduced to a whimpering wreck, sobbing and begging for death.

  Chapter Twenty

  Planet Calpharon

  Sigma Nordlin IV

  Year of Renewal 267 (322 AC)

  “Admiral Barron is here at my invitation. He is to be treated with all appropriate respect, and Council debate is to proceed unimpeded while he is here.” Akella spoke in a harsher tone than she’d shown in her talks with Barron, and he realized almost immediately that some of the men and women in the room were political rivals. That didn’t make sense to him at first. Akella’s genetic rating assured her the top seat, save only for certain extreme circumstances. But he quickly began to understand. Even in the Senate, power struggles raged over leadership positions and control over voting blocks. A Speaker only truly possessed authority if he controlled enough votes to pass the measures he desired. As much as Barron had come to see Akella as the leader of the Hegemony, he realized that was a gross oversimplification. She had considerable power, certainly, but she wasn’t a dictator. Her control was far from absolute, and while she couldn’t be removed from her seat absent proof of insanity, or some other significant impairment, she could be outvoted, even reduced to figurehead status.

  And Tyler Barron had seen enough of the Senate’s fouler workings to realize that a removal for cause wouldn’t require actual mental illness or any of the other specified situations, just enough votes aligned against her.

  “Number One, with all due respect to our esteemed visitor, the Council is in session to review highly sensitive information from the battle lines. I am sure Admiral Barron would understand if we requested he leave this proceeding at some point. Of course, we will provide a reviewed and redacted transcript…”

  “No.” Akella’s voice was cold, an anger there Barron hadn’t heard before. He knew at once, there was bad blood between Akella the man who’d just spoken. Thantor, Barron reminded himself.

  And Thantor is Number Two, her immediate successor.

  Barron felt almost as though he was in the Senate on Megara. For all he’d hated the Hegemony as invaders and killers of so many of his comrades, he’d somehow imagined they were less beset by political bickering than the Confederation. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

  “Akella, be reasonable. The information…”

  “Admiral Barron will not be asked to leave…and if this Council insists that he is, I will exercise my power to dissolve this meeting, and I will review the data from the Verification Force myself.”

  “You cannot do…”

  “I can, and I will. Surely, you are familiar with the powers granted to the Number One of the Council. It is my place to preside over each meeting, and to determine the agenda. Admiral Barron has come a very long distance, in the aftermath of a bitter war between our nations. He is here to review the situation with the Others, and to decide whether to recommend to his government that they come to our aid. He must have all information we can provide to make his determination…and we must also earn his trust if we expect help from the Rim. Holding back information, excluding him from discussions about the situation, are inherently destructive to those aims.”

  Barron could hear a murmur moving around the able, and he could almost feel the shock at what Akella had said. There was arrogance on the Hegemony’s Council, he realized without doubt, as much as he’d seen in the Senate’s deliberations, more even, since the Hegemony was unmistakably the most powerful nation known…save perhaps for the Others.

  “Enough nonsense. If no one has anything to add, perhaps we can begin.” Akella’s every word radiated a challenge, no something more. A dare.

  No one responded.

  “Very well. Megaron Ilius has come directly from the shuttle bay to address the Council.” She turned toward the door where an officer stood wearing a dress uniform. “Megaron, the floor is yours.”

  Ilius stepped toward the center of the room. He turned and looked down the large table, where the highest-rated Masters in the Hegemony were seated. He was respectful, at least superficially, but Barron could sense the military commander harbored some resentments toward members of the Council. Barron knew little about the inner workings of the Hegemony, but he guessed that Ilius was firmly in the A
kella-Chronos camp. Beyond the specifics of the political dynamics he was watching, he felt a strange sort of relief at seeing the Hegemony subject to many of the same problems that plagued the Confederation. For years, even as his hatred for the enemy grew, there had always been a kind of respect, almost an awe that a culture could move past the petty workings of politics and ascend to a higher level. Now, he realized, if such a civilization could exist, it was not the Hegemony, nor the revered old empire, which itself was torn apart by internecine conflict.

  Perhaps that is mankind’s curse, one we will never escape…

  “Masters of the Council, it is an honor to once again stand before you. This time, amid the crisis we face, and the shadow cast across our future the news I bring is fractionally less dark and ominous than that we have endured in recent months. The vessels of the Verification Force, led by Commander Krellos, were able to categorically confirm the theory put forth by Commander Tragus of Avia. The Others’ vessels do indeed emit detectable levels of Sigma-9 radiation…and Tragus’s makeshift scanning routines allow effective fire locks on the enemy vessels. Hit rates in the encounter were considerably below levels we would consider normal battle standards, but we were able to verify a sufficient number of successful shots to conclude without reasonable doubt that the targeting program was effective.” A short pause. “Further, we have scanner documentation of at least one enemy vessel exhibiting signs of significant damage, including secondary explosions and expulsion of internal materials through one or more hull breaches.”

  Akella had been watching her colleagues on the Council, but now she turned toward Ilius. “Thank you, Commander…both for your very welcome report, and for the great risk and effort you undertook to bring us this data.”

  Ilius nodded. “Thank you, Number One. Your words are a welcome addition to duty, which of course was all that was required.” Ilius was silent for a moment. “With your indulgence, I would add that the entire Verification Force was lost…including Commander Krellos. We all know the commander’s illustrious record, and though he is assured a place in Hegemony history, I would ask that this Council formally recognize his last efforts for the Hegemony…as well as the ultimate sacrifice he and his spacers made to aid us all in the fight we now face.”

  Akella stood up. “You are quite correct, Ilius. Commander Krellos deserves nothing less than the greatest honors this Council can bestow. I urge my colleagues to stand with me, in silent tribute, and then to vote as I do, to proclaim Master Krellos a Hero of the Hegemony and order that his likeness be carved into the Hall of Masters.”

  Ilius nodded, a silent acknowledgement, Barron guessed. He was a Master, and a protégé of Chronos, but his genetic ranking did not afford him a place on the Council…or a vote on Akella’s motion.

  “I stand with Akella. Krellos was a true hero, a Master of the Hegemony in every respect, and one deserving of all the honor we can provide.” Thantor stood straight and erect, a little too much, Barron thought. He’d seen his share of insincere politicians, and they always overdid it. He also recognized that Akella had backed her rivals into a corner. She had sent Krellos, authorized the mission, and emphasizing its importance—and honoring those who had died carrying it out—could only strengthen her position. Her political adversaries could hardly make a stand refusing to honor an old man who’d performed one last desperate mission for the Hegemony, and died in the process.

  He was even more impressed with Akella as he watched her. She’d seemed so…normal…when he’d spoken with her, like a real person and not the swamp creature he’d come to see in most politicians. But she could clearly play the political game as well, and with a considerable level of skill.

  He watched as the other Council members spoke, each seeking to get on the record with some type of tribute to Krellos. For a few seconds, he almost imagined he was back home, on Megara, listening to the Senate prattle on about one pointless thing or another.

  Finally, the showmanship—and the justifiable recognition of sacrifice—was over, and Akella spoke again. “We have extensive footage from the scanner reports of the exchange with the enemy. While much of the raw data is still being reviewed and analyzed, Commander Ilius has prepared a short sampling for us to see now. If you will all focus your attention on the large screen…” She turned and gestured toward a Kriegeri standing next to the room’s main door. “Hectoron, dim the lights, please. And activate the display.”

  The room darkened, and the screen lit up, a blanket of dark space, and in the background, a sprinkling of stars. In the center of the screen, Barron saw…something. A ship, he thought…but like no vessel he’d ever seen. It was there, at least it seemed to be most of the time he stared at it. But there was something strange, as well, an eerie sensation. He couldn’t quite lock his eyes on the ship. It didn’t seem to be moving, not exactly, but it didn’t appear to remain in the same place either.

  Then, the image of the ship disappeared as the data shifted to a normal tactical scan. The ship was replaced by a standard scanner contact icon. The small oval lacked the strangeness the direct view of the vessel had exhibited, but it still wobbled strangely on the display, as the recording scanner clearly struggled to maintain contact. Barron began to understand why the Hegemony ships had so much trouble targeting their enemies. He couldn’t explain what he was seeing, but it didn’t take much to extrapolate the difficulties in establishing fire locks on ships whose locations you couldn’t precisely pinpoint.

  He sat quietly, watching as the battle unfolded. The mysterious ships—Barron still hadn’t become accustomed to calling them the ‘Others’—opened fire at a range that seemed almost impossible, especially for what appeared to be energy weapons of some kind. Barron had struggled to deal with the Hegemony railguns, and the Confederation had only recently partially closed that gap with its modified primaries. Even those great weapons, the pinnacle of Confederation science, had a range almost thirty thousand kilometers less than the Hegemony railguns.

  And the ships on the display were firing at ranges close to one hundred fifty thousand kilometers greater than even the heaviest railguns.

  Barron had moved past his unilateral disbelief in the Others, to a sort of acceptance that the Hegemony did, in fact, have another enemy. But he’d still been struggling to accept the premise that the Hegemony’s adversary was a threat to the Rim. He’d even wondered if he should try somehow—and he had no idea how—to contact the Others. The Hegemony had invaded Rim space, killed Rim spacers…and the old adage floated around the edge of his mind.

  The enemy of my enemy is my friend…

  Barron was too cynical to believe some strange force from coreward of the Hegemony was a likely ally, but it still nagged at him. He had only Carmetia’s impassioned pleas, and Akella’s assurances, that the Others were indeed a deadly danger to the Rim as well as the Hegemony. Such claims were enormously self-serving for the parties involved…which didn’t mean they weren’t true.

  It didn’t mean they were, either.

  As he watched the drama unfold on the screen, however, Barron began to believe what he’d been told. The images were no proof, of course, at least not of the Others’ intentions with regard to the Rim, but what he was watching was so different, so alien, to all he’d seen before, he couldn’t help but feel more closely aligned with the Hegemony. At least with the version of that polity represented by Akella’s words and actions.

  Don’t forget…she authorized the invasion of the Rim. She may seem reasonable, even wise, but she is a believer in the Hegemony’s destiny to rule all humanity…or at least she was.

  The images on the screen told a story, of hope or of despair, depending on one’s analysis. The Verification Force was scoring hits, proving the Hegemony had indeed discovered a way to track and target the enemy. But the hit rates were still abysmal, and for the forty or more vessels he knew were doomed as he watched, not one of the Others’ ships had been destroyed…and only one had been damaged in any detectable way. That was
undeniably an improvement over facing untrackable ships that couldn’t be hit, but it was far from something offering the makings of victory. Tyler Barron had spent much of his adult life at war, and what time he hadn’t been fighting had largely been spent preparing for the next struggle. His mind moved into action, adding up the numbers, applying them to a full-scale fleet battle. A Hegemony force might inflict some damage on the enemy—assuming Akella’s people were able to refit all the scanner suites in their massive fleet before the next battle. They might even destroy a number of enemy ships. But there was no way they would win. No way they could win. Not without a vast increase in targeting effectiveness.

  Or massive reinforcements.

  Even as the playback continued, Barron’s mind raced. He’d been suspicious of the Hegemony when he’d arrived, untrusting of the enemy his people had fought for six long years. He was still suspicious of them. But the threat he was watching, the almost effortless brutality of the enemy gunning down Hegemony ships, vessels his spacers had fought, bled, and died to match. He didn’t doubt the Others existed, not anymore. A passing suspicion or two drifted by, imaginings that all he’d seen, all he was watching just then, had been staged to trick him. But he realized he was convinced. The Hegemony faced a dangerous and deadly enemy, one that quite possibly—if not probably—would destroy it.

  Barron had imagined the Hegemony’s defeat a thousand times, and in every instance, he ‘d felt nothing but satisfaction, grim joy at the fall of an enemy. Now that was all gone, replaced only by fear, by the realization that a power so great as that he was seeing, would very likely move on to the Rim, assert its dominance there as surely as it seemed intent on doing in the coreward space of the Hegemony.