Source by Matthew S. Williams - HTML preview

Part VI: For Keeps

From their comfy vantage point, the stream emanating from the disintegrating planetoid looked like a tail extending from a flying kite, or some strange mystical creature. Any closer and they would have felt the wrath of turbulence and stray matter that really constituted the asteroids train. Thanks to a little artificial propulsion provided by some rigged up ion drives, the asteroid had graduated from being a rock circling in space to a comet. Like most phenomenon in the universe, it was beautiful, but only if observed from afar.

As for the comet itself, again it was their distance that provided a degree of beauty that would otherwise have been impossible. The deep azure of its ice fields reminded Aaronson of a flawed jewel, while the rocky outcroppings were reminiscent of mountain peaks jutting through a glacier. If they were to stray closer, they would have noticed the truth, that like all asteroids it was nothing but a ball of dirty ice and stone being hurled through space. Wasn‘t that what the miners said, he asked himself. Pretty from a distance, ugly and dangerous as hell up close?

Something like that. In any case, it was a marvellous backdrop for their little demonstration.

Up until this time, the thing had remained in place, in a wide orbit around the sun with its brothers and sisters. Now, it was being pushed ahead at one standard gee, the first of its kind being transported to the edge of the solar system – where it would be deployed. And they, the entire cabinet, with some military personnel and the Grand Marshall, were following and watching every step of the way. From a safe distance, of course.

At the viewport, Cherybus stood like a child with his face hovering close to the glass.

Aaronson was sure he thought he looked presidential, arms folded in front of his chest, his brow tilted forward and furrowed – like a general surveying the field of engagement. But in spite of it, he could still see the unmistakable sign of eagerness, of impending excitement. In addition, his breath was clouding the window ever so slightly. If only Arayus were present, he thought. To listen to words of contempt whispered quietly in the corner, to see him exchange pleasantries with his successor, dripping with sarcasm. He doubted it would have done the old man any good, but at least it would have been fun to watch. It would have also given Aaronson someone to talk to. The Grand Marshall was the only one who he had any interest in speaking with, but unfortunately he was otherwise occupied.

―What kind of deployment pattern are we thinking of making once the machines are all in place?‖ the Executive said to the Grand Marshall, who stood dutifully by his side. Aaronson watched not more than a few feet away, hoping not to miss anything.

―We plan to disperse them based on the set three-fleet pattern,‖ the Marshall explained.

―They will move methodically to all the three nearest systems first. From there, we will launch into the systems that have already been hit, hopefully getting there once the enemy has already moved on. This way, we can clear several systems before we encounter their main force, and force them into a tail-spin while they stop their advance and turn themselves around to face us.‖

―Not bad,‖ Cherybus said, nodding. ―Isn‘t it risky though? What if they decide to move on Sol instead of choosing to confront our ships out there?‖

―It is our hope that they do just that, sir,‖ the Marshall replied confidently. ―We have reserves waiting for here for them. And if they do choose to move to Sol, we can redirect our forces from the outlying systems back to Sol, so as to cut them off.‖

―Hmm, game of chess.‖

―Yes, sir. Always plan two moves ahead.‖

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Aaronson was mildly impressed. Cherybus had been reading his briefs after all and clearly understood the strategy implied in them. Maybe he had been getting a little tutoring on the side, who knew? Cherybus rarely held open Cabinet meetings anymore, only clandestine ones Aaronson wasn‘t invited to. The rest of the time, Aaronson had to be devious just to find out when regular Cabinet meetings were being scheduled. On more than one occasion, the other ministers had casually ―forgotten‖ to let his staff know. Excuses were made, but he knew the real truth. He couldn‘t help but feel robbed. Planting sources in the outer systems, using Reclamation as a front, the general mobilization; it had been his idea in the first place. But now it was all in the hands of the Executive and the Ministry of Defense. All he could do was stand by and hope to listen in, making sure things were being executed with a degree of competence.

Even his sources had come under the control of the military, which coincidentally was the next topic of conversation between the Grand Marshall and the Executive.

―Have we learned anything new about them?‖

The Marshall shifted uneasily as he tried to find a way to formulate his answer. It was never easy telling the boss that no useful progress had been made. But the Marshall was a seasoned man, so he knew how to frame his answer well.

―Intelligence has been working round the clock to make sense out of the mess, sir,‖ he said. ―From the sensor logs, and from the transmissions of our operatives in the field. The latter have been compromised, understandably, due to the need to stay mobile. They have to stay one step ahead of the attacks, and that makes it hard to get anything other than blurry pics or holographics through.‖

―And the verbal reports?‖

―Equally problematic, sir,‖ the Marshall replied. ―Chaos and confusion are reigning wherever the enemy have attacked. It‘s hard to separate the gossip from fact.‖

Cherybus sighed and turned to face the Marshall. Doing his best to look indignant, he ordered simply:

―Grand Marshall, I‘m displeased with the constant lack of results. I want tangible evidence of who we‘re dealing with, not vague assessments and pieces of gossip. Bump some heads together in Intelligence if you have to, or tell your sources to remain in the field of engagement long enough to see what the enemy ships look like! Tell them to die if need be!

Just get me something we can use. The fate of the human race is at stake here!‖

―Um, yes, sir!‖ the Marshall said, straightening to absorb the verbal assault. Aaronson smiled. It was a bit over the top, but at least he had been taken seriously. And whatever the motivation, he had hit on the need for more concrete information. Had he still been giving the orders, he would have told those brave men and women – whom he had sent into the field under the guise of collective covert census data – to start taking some risks! To stick their noses out further so they might catch a glimpse of the enemy before they were on Earth‘s doorstep.

Contrary to the Marshall‘s assurances, that was a risk they really weren‘t prepared for. Having defences put up was one thing, but there was no telling if they‘d work of not. With the limited intel they were getting about gravimetric weapons, and the speed at which the enemy seemed to be moving, no one could deny the anxiety it was making them feel. In that respect, Aaronson still had one thing in common with everyone else in the cabinet.

The klaxon began to wale at half past midnight, and hadn‘t missed a beat in all the time it took Patric and Jana to get dressed and out of their quarters. Once they had reached the main plaza of Artemis spaceport, the stark reality of the situation began to hit home. Everywhere, people were running about in a frenzy, security personnel joining in rather than trying to subdue 110

them. Hovering in the centre of the plaza just a few meters below their vantage point, the avatar was busy reciting some pre-written emergency speech advising everyone not to panic. Clearly it was not having the intended effect.

―What‘s going on?‖ Patric screamed in all directions to anyone who would hear him.

One of the passer-bys, a woman who had momentarily stopped to pick up her son, looked up at them long enough to answer.

―We‘re under attack!‖

―Attack? By whom?‖ Jana asked.

The lady quickly pulled her son to his feet, checked to make sure he was uninjured, and resumed her hasty retreat down the corridor. No one else appeared interested in answering their question. Each and every person only seemed dedicated to the mood of self-preservation that had overcome the station.

Deciding there was nothing more to be done Patric and Jana joined the flood and proceeded down the corridor to one of the evac sites. Soon they were funnelled into a narrow corridor that branched off in two directions, bright lights and flashing letters indicating separate launch tubes. Patric was pushed well into the mouth of the tunnel when he stopped to check to see if Jana was still holding his hand. His hand was empty. Instinctively, his eyes scanned the horizon of rushing faces for her. She was nowhere to be found. He could not see over the heads that blocked his view, and with each passing person in the narrow corridor, he felt himself being pushed further and further from her.

―Jana!‖ he screamed, but even his words were swept aside by the torrent of the crowd.

Far too many people were shouting, and he couldn‘t even maintain his footing with all the bodies pushing him.

―JANA!‖ he screamed again.

―Move it you fool!‖ a patron said, pressing his shoulder into Patric‘s chest and forcing him forward. He continued to yell down the hallway, fighting to hold steady and straining to hear her voice. Once or twice, he thought he heard her cry back, but couldn‘t be sure. The tunnel gave way to an airlock which quickly slid shut as soon as he and the man who carried him were through. He beat against the door, imploring it to give way, or for Jana‘s face to show up on the other side of the window. A new klaxon sounded, drowning out his voice, and his fists bled against the glass. It changed nothing.

―Hey, no need to thank me!‖ the patron said to his rear. ―You‘d be stuck in there if it weren‘t for me.‖

―My wife is in there!‖ he pleaded.

―I‘m sure she got to the other bay, pal.‖

―What if she didn‘t?‖ he demanded, taking the man by the scruff of the neck.

―Then you‘d both have been dead, friend. Be thankful I saved YOU!‖

The man removed Patric‘s hands with a hard shove and turned away from him. From the pod‘s holoemitter, a crude avatar appeared and politely instructed them to strap into the wall restrains and prepare for launch. Having little choice, Patric put his grief aside and strapped himself next into the tangled straps that were nearest to him.

A sudden jolt signalled that the rockets had fired and they were now free of the station.

From his spot on the wall, Patric was able to catch another glimpse out the window. They were falling away from Artemis, its docking ring spewing out small pods that became twinkles of light in the surrounding darkness. Other heavier craft were also pulling away, their exhaust flames blaring as the crews gunned their engines in an attempt to escape.

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Gradually, as the pod began to skirt Apollo‘s rough atmosphere, the blackness of space became an opaque blur. Dust and noble gases clouded the window, reducing Artemis to a mere outline sprinkled with points of light. And yet, Patric could swear he saw something else moving in towards the station. The profile dwarfed anything that was leaving it, and their exhaust flamed burned a different colour. The size and shape didn‘t remind him of Slicer vessel at all. Who were they? The attackers? He strained to look closer when another profile came into view, this one much closer. The avatar appeared again, issuing new instructions.

―A sudden change has occurred in our flight plan. Please hold on while we execute evasive manoeuvres!‖

―What‘s going on?‖ many voices yelled in succession. As the only one with a clear view, Patric felt obliged to answer.

―I don‘t know, I think another vessel‘s approaching us.‖

―What?!‖ the voices yelled. The impertinent man who elbowed him into the pod decided to paraphrase Patric‘s assessment for them.

―He said someone‘s coming for us!‖

The klaxons ceased finally. Having tired of the confines of the corridor, Jana and the others who had been left behind had returned to the plaza. The avatar had ceased with the emergency routine, and was cycling back through it welcoming program again. The sudden presence of people in the plaza must have trigged the old routine. For all those who had been enduring nothing but panic for the last hour, the absence of the sirens was a nice relief.

However, a new and more threatening sound had come to replace it. It was far-off, a whirring noise of servo motors, followed by a rising clatter that sounded like metal against metal.

It didn‘t take long before Jana‘s trained ears discerned what it was. She had heard it many times when she was on site back in the Terran colonies. It was the sound an industrial plasma torch made when it was applied to metal. The uncomfortable realization was too much for her to keep to herself.

―Oh my God, we‘re being boarded,‖ she muttered.

―What?‖ a man demanded from her side. ―We‘re being BOARDED?‖

The word spread amongst the crowd, inciting a fresh wave of panic. Jana scolded herself for not keeping her mouth shut, but the damage was done. Telling them to remain calm was futile now, and only likely to inspire more panic. For a moment, it drowned out the noise, but only for a moment. Soon it became too loud, followed by the sound of an echoing blast, and footsteps…

―The report has been confirmed, sir. Ross 248 has just fallen. I repeat, Ross 248 has just fallen.‖

The Grand Marshall sighed heavily and thanked the source, terminating the link immediately after. With a nod, one of the techs made a correction to the holodisplay that hung in front of them. The small yellow disc that represented Ross 248 – which, as they had learned, the local citizens ostentatiously referred to as Apollo – turned red, denoting occupation. Even those who had no appreciation of strategy could see the obvious: Sol had slowly been encircled. A few dwarf stars and some more distant neighbours were not yet claimed, but the effect was the same.

The enemy had effectively enveloped them.

The Grand Marshall turned to face Cherybus, who was seated at his briefing table with his ―War Council‖ surrounding him. The council was little more than his cabinet, with some 112

ministers excluded for political reasons. To his surprise, Aaronson had retained a seat, no doubt at the behest of Arayus, who still had some pull with the Military. And as Minister of Populations, and the one who had actually planted the ring of informants in the first place, his opinion was grudgingly getting an audience. Once in a while, he still found he could be pleasantly disappointed by being right. And as usual, the worst was happening.

―We can effectively rule out coincidence, sir,‖ the Marshall said. ―The enemy clearly knows where our homeworld is and has deployed its forces accordingly. There can be no doubt that their strategy was to envelope Sol before moving on it directly.‖

―So…? What now?‖ Cherybus asked. Again, a clear understanding of the obvious.

―Clearly this changes our plans, sir,‖ Aaronson said from his corner. The comment drew some attention, not the least of which was from the Grand Marshall. All this time, and the man still couldn‘t decide whether or not he liked Aaronson. They tended to agree on most things, but he still didn‘t appreciate the way he volunteered his opinions so freely.

―Yes, sir. We can no longer afford to deploy. We need to concentrate our forces here, and wait.‖

―So, dig in and await the siege? That is your plan?‖ Minister Qin said.

―What choice do we have?‖ Aaronson asked. ―If we deploy any forces out of the system, we risk weakening our defences when the final stroke comes.‖

―But that was the plan, was it not? Were we not planning on sending some of our forces to strike at enemy held territories in the hopes of recapturing some of the lost systems?‖ It was Minister Tareen saying this now. Aaronson wanted to answer, to tell her they were never lost in the first place, and that recapturing implied past ownership. But he let the Marshall field this one.

―That strategy was based on the possibility of catching the enemy off-balance while they were still on the move. Now that they‘ve enveloped us, we know that they will direct all their assets here at Sol. Given the apparent disparity between our forces and theirs, we cannot risk weakening our defences.‖ Addressing Cherybus next, he added. ―Sir, the best we can hope for now is to hold here and blunt their offensive when it comes. Once we‘ve done that, we can start planning a possible counter-offensive.‖

Cherybus sighed and looked on wearily, the look of a would-be leader who was out of his depth. Try as he might, he just wasn‘t cut out for this kind of work. That was what was going through his head at least. The others waited for him to say something, anything. No one could prompt him now, though. There was simply no way he could be told what to do, or say.

A gesture from one of the techs broke the tension and caught the Marshall‘s attention. A few quiet words were uttered between them, followed by a nod from the Marshall. A new image took the place of the map on the display. The Marshall began to explain.

―Sir, we have just received a visual feed from one of Apollonian source, sir.‖

―Finally,‖ Cherybus said, looking managerial again. ―Let me see it.‖

The command was redundant, for the image was already materializing in front of them.

Once the pixels and static all settled, the image began to move. They could see from inside the planets orbital station, a place the source had designated as Kabal. The source was apparently standing inside some kind of plaza, looking out through domed windows into space. Outside, the large outline of a ship passed next to the station, moving slowly as it intended to dock with them.

The image moved forward a few minutes, there was much noise and commotion coming from all around. The image jerked and shook as the source tried to run. A few more seconds of confusion passed before it became still again, but then something else happened. The lights died 113

and then some vague outlines came running. They became clearer as they neared the source and those around him.

That was when things got really confusing for everyone in the room. In the last few seconds of footage before one of the attacking parties overtook the source, they got a relatively clear picture of who they were dealing with. The attackers had illuminated patches where the faces would be, bulges that looked like weapons were carried in what appeared to be arms. The silhouettes looked bulky, almost as if they were wearing pressure suits of some kind, and were clearly humanoid in shape. That, more than anything else, did not sit well.

―Mr. Executive,‖ the Marshall said after a short pause. ―This is the first glimpse we have of our enemy. Clearly, sir, we are dealing with a human faction.‖

―That‘s impossible!‖ one of the Ministers yelled. ―There are no settlements that could have achieved this level of technological development so quickly!‖

―They have to be another species!‖ another accompanied.

―And why is that?‖ Aaronson replied. ―What do we even know about the neighbouring systems? Until they became a threat, we never even bothered with them or monitored their growth. They‘ve had centuries to grow now. Did we assume that none of them would be able to catch up or overtake us, what with our constant drive for progress and development?‖

He let those last words hang in the air, hoping all would catch onto the dripping sarcasm with which he had imbibed them. Clearly, they had.

―I suppose this is where you say „I told you so!‟‖ Tareen said.

―Why not? I did didn‘t I? While we‘ve been sitting here behind our borders fussing over minute matters of consumption and conservation, countless settlements have sprung up, populated entirely by people seeking new frontiers and challenges that we cannot provide. By our very nature, we fear ingenuity and new ideas. We drive them out, and those that welcome them beyond our borders benefit from it. Considering our ignorance on the subject, I don‘t see how any of us can say definitively that this is not a human faction!‖

Cherybus cleared his throat loudly, thinking that the proper thing was to intervene to keep his ministers from fighting. But since he could find nothing to say, the Marshall did it for him.

―I think we can all agree that whether or not this faction is from one of the outer settlements is immaterial at this time. Right now, the priority is still in stopping them from taking Sol.‖

―Quite right,‖ Cherybus said, finding his voice. ―All of our resources should be concentrated here.‖

The Ministers humbly nodded or muttered their agreement. The Grand Marshall began moving into matters of border defence when an alarm sounded behind him. The holodisplay changed again, projecting an image of a border region in space and red icons crossing a yellow line.

―What‘s happening?‖ Cherybus demanded.

―Sir,‖ the Marshall paused and waited for the tech to relay the report that she was receiving through her earpiece. When she was done feeding it to him, he looked ready to protest.

As he turned to them, his face white and new sweat forming on his head, Aaronson knew exactly what he would say. They were here.

―Mr. Executive,‖ he said, trying to force some degree of confidence into his voice. ―Our outer markers have reported contact. Unidentified ships are crossing into Sol space!‖

―What?!‖

―Are they the enemy identified in this footage?‖ Minister Qin asked.

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―We have fed the visuals to the border patrols. We are waiting for confirmation. I can tell you sir that this is far too soon for this to be the bulk of their forces. Even at maximum velocity, it would take any ship more than four years to make the journey from sir, and they would need at least a year or two to bring in the rest of their ships from the other systems. This can‘t be anything more than a token force, perhaps an advanced scouting party.‖

―Then how do we respond?‖

―Myself and the General Staff will be moving to our forward base where we will oversee the deployment of the Reclamation fleet, sir. We will ensure that this force does not make it out of Sol in one piece.‖

―The Executive should go with him,‖ Aaronson said. The others Ministers looked ready to object before Cherybus interrupted them to heroically volunteer himself.

―The honourable Minister is correct,‖ he said. ―I will oversee the deployment as well.

My place is at the front lines, after all.‖

―Then perhaps the Cabinet should go with him,‖ Qin said with a smile, looking in Aaronson‘s direction. ―Or at least, certain members of the cabinet.‖

―Capital idea,‖ Aaronson replied, returning her smile. ―I would be happy to assist the Executive in this endeavour, even if I am the only one.‖

Qin and the others nodded ambivalently, sensing that they had stumbled into a bit of a trap. Some looked like they now wanted to volunteer themselves, but fear still held sway. Right now, the prospect of being alive to form a new government held more appeal than dying heroically at the front. There was no guarantee either Cherybus or Aaronson would be making it back in one piece, and someone needed to be left alive to negotiate a peace with this new enemy should it come to that.

―It‘s settled then,‖ Cherybus declared. ―I and the honourable Minister will be departing for the front immediately with the Grand Marshall. I hope this meets with your approval, sir.‖

―Ahem, yes! Of course, sir,‖ he said, eyeing them both nervously. It didn‘t take much to guess what he was thinking. Great, now I have TWO of them to deal with!

Zelena rubbed the cryosleep from her eyes and squinted at the nav console. After another seven years in transit and cold sleep, they had finally come to Groombridge 34, known to locals as Carnaea. It was not a matter of choice that had brought them here, and they were in fact surprised to find out where they were when they awoke. While they were sleeping, Zelena had set the comm system to pick up on all available com traffic between systems and Slicer vessels, noting which systems were occupied and instructing the nav computer to adjust their heading accordingly. While they slept, the enemy had apparently closed in on all other systems in the vicinity. Short of extending their trip fifteen or twenty years, or simply returning to Apollo where they would not be welcome, their simply were no other colonized systems in the area to go to.

And so they had come here, to a sparsely populated outer colony that might just be willing to let them dump roughly three thousand refugees planetside. And they certainly weren‘t alone. When it was time to come to and check on the status of things, Zelena and Tulloch had found at least a hundred ships in a loose formation around the planet. And the long range scans indicated that there were at least fifty more coming. All told, this constituted half of the Slicer fleet. Even with their transponder‘s emitting fake ID signatures, it was easy to see that all those who remained were now here. This, and other such pearls of good news, constituted Zelena‘s briefing to the Captain once he was finished his waking cycle.

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―Guess it‘s time to negotiate,‖ Kreios said. ―What do we know about the planetary authority?‖

―The last time we heard anything, they were a pretty open and tolerant people. But I‘ve been listening to the local airwaves, and they‘re not happy.‖

―Why should they be? How many people are they being asked to absorb here?‖

―I guess we were naïve,‖ Zelena said, nodding. ―We thought we‘d be alone, just our cargo to worry about. By my estimation, they‘ve taken fifteen thousand people already, and God only knows how many more they‘re expecting.‖

―And it‘s only a matter of time before they have to start turning people away,‖ Vale said, his mechanical arm whirring as he opened and closed his fist. ―Then we might have a problem.‖

―No one‘s gonna‘ get into a shooting war over this!‖ Kreios said. ―If we get turned away, we‘ll just have to run somewhere else.‖

―Where?‖ Maddox said anxiously. ―Where else is there?‖

No one answered. It was as plain as day. If they couldn‘t ditch their cargo here, then there was nothing left to do but turn tail run for open space. There was no way they would be turning back with all the refugees aboard.

―Any other news?‖ Kreios asked.

―Yes, Captain,‖ Zelena said with hesitation. ―There‘s a message. It‘s from Reinhardt, Captain. He right behind us, and he wants to talk when he gets here.‖

―What the hell do you want?‖

Reinhardt smiled crookedly on the screen. His half-cybernetic face was only capable of generated partial expressions, the rest simply shone with a metallic luster. It was the first time some of the crew had actually seen his face. Given all they had been told about him, it felt just slightly anti-climactic. Still, they could see the gleam in his one organic eye, the burning intent that looked like it could easily cross over into the realm of ruthlessness. His voice was interesting too, a willowy breeze that sounded like it was passing throug