CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Aiden

“I t’s an absolute mess, and the Parliament is having kittens,” Colonel Henderson said, as he was once more pacing his office. I was seated in front of his desk, debating whether I should stand up or not. Just as I was thinking maybe I should, Henderson went and sat down again, aborting my half-completed movement. “The Nwandu got their ship repaired,” he went on, and I wracked my brain for who the heck we were talking about again? Oh, that’s right. The Nwandu were considering joining the Alliance, but their ship had been shot down, delaying their intended visit to Rendol 4. “But now they’ve got a mountain of concerns about the security of our wormholes, so they’ve gone to the Drazig system to meet with the Alliance Parliament.”

That made me sit up and take notice. “The Alliance Parliament? Not the Rendol Parliament?”

“Exactly,” Henderson said. “They want a full review of wormhole security across the region. So what I need you to do is compile a report on every instance of unauthorised access to the Rendol wormhole over the past six months.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. But then I couldn’t help adding, “But isn’t that part of the whole reason we’re interested in them signing up? Because we need their defensive technology?”

“Yes, but there’s necessarily got to be some give and take. They won’t want to join us if they think we’re just going to expect them to bail us out every time someone attacks us. We have to bring something useful to the table as well. So they’re now apparently worried about exactly where the balance is, on that one.”

“Oh, fuck. Fair enough.” I got to my feet. “I’ll get right on it. Do you need it today, or have I got a bit of time? ”

“They want it to be thorough, rather than fast. If it takes you a few days to go through all the information, then so be it.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, then headed straight for the large office space, where I claimed a table and got to work.

Kade, thankfully, was busy doing a number of assessments on his combat skills and completing some procedural training, given that his application to enlist had been approved in the week we’d been away. It was a huge relief, because I honestly didn’t know what I would have done with him if the military had turned him down. His training was going to take about three days, which, given the frequency with which rogue ships jumped through our wormhole, should be just about long enough for me to compile my report.

Fortunately, the fact that both of us were working on the base at the moment meant that we could go home in the evening, rather than having to sleep in the barracks. I helped Kade cook meals, but let him clean the kitchen afterwards, and we both enjoyed sleeping in our own bed together, rather than on the hard mattresses at the base.

By the third day, I had an extensive list of rogue wormhole incidents, but I was also seeing a worrying pattern in the information I’d listed in the report – worrying enough that I pinged Henderson’s comm to ask if I could talk to him.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, when I arrived in his office. His eyebrows rose when I closed the door behind me.

“I know this is well above my pay grade, sir,” I began, knowing that I was about to put my foot in something. This, right here, was a big part of the reason I hadn’t made Commander yet. I’d never learned when to leave well enough alone. “I was wondering how many wormholes we’re reporting on for the Nwandu.”

“Six, that I’m aware of,” he replied, curious enough – and in a good enough mood – to humour me. He pulled up the list on a holographic screen and showed it to me.

I grimaced as my faint hunch turned into a strong gut feeling. “That covers every major populated system on the galaxy-side fringe of Alliance space. That’s a lot of information.”

“Where are you going with this, Lieutenant?”

“In my report, I’ve deliberately tried to leave out the ‘how’ of the wormhole breaches. I’ve put in the ‘what’, and the ‘when’, but I’m not even sure I should be putting the ‘who’ in there – which species have helped themselves to free passage through our system. The thing is, if this information fell into the wrong hands, it would make it incredibly easy for some nefarious third party to plan a coordinated attack against our outer-lying colonies. It details which class of ships made the jumps, what damage was caused – if they crashed into one of our ships going the other way, for example – plus any malfunctions of the solar shielding or fluctuations in the dark energy of the wormhole. That’s just like writing a ‘how to’ manual for invading Alliance space.”

The wormholes had been the single most important breakthrough in interstellar travel, and it was likely that most species would never have left their home solar systems without them. Numerous species had discovered naturally occurring wormholes, beginning some six centuries ago, but they’d been notoriously unstable. Cooperative efforts over many decades had finally harnessed the potential of dark energy to create stable portals to other parts of the galaxy – or artificial wormholes. But the downside of creating the wormholes was that they were incredibly expensive to maintain. They had to be shielded from solar storms, traffic had to be monitored to avoid crashes and every couple of years, the wormhole had to be strengthened to maintain its integrity. And that was why various species or systems now claimed to ‘own’ their local wormhole. If they paid for the maintenance, they got to control the traffic.

“It’s a valid point,” Henderson said, not looking happy about it. “And I’ll certainly mention it to the Rendol Parliament. But the Nwandu have gone right to the top, and the Alliance Parliament has to weigh the risks of losing their participation, as compared to the risks of revealing certain key information to them. There’s been a huge amount of work gone into this negotiation already. And if it works out, we have a hell of a lot to gain.”

That night, I was noticeably pensive – so much so that Kade actually commented on it, as he was serving dinner. I brushed him off as politely as possible, then hastily backtracked and told him that I was worried about work stuff and assured him there was nothing he had done wrong. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about the Nwandu’s request. But I was one man, in a swirling maelstrom of sixty billion people in the Alliance. I doubted there was anything I could do that would truly have an impact on the situation.

I suppose that’s why I was thankful the following morning when I got called into Major Glech’s office – she was working from the main base, rather than the regional one, for the time being – and she told me, Kade, and four other soldiers that we’d been assigned to a security mission for the next three days.

“It’s simple guard duty,” Glech said, her bushy eyebrows ruffling. “The north-western terraforming outpost is upgrading their defence perimeter and they need someone to hold off any potential Geshtoch attacks until it’s up and running again.”

I managed not to groan at the news. Guard duty was the most boring assignment it was possible to get. We’d spend three days standing in the hot sun, staring at the desert sand, and listening to the whine of rock-breaking drills and seed sowers. Unless, of course, the Geshtoch decided to attack, in which case, anything could happen.

Kade had been assigned the rank of corporal for the time being, until he got a couple of missions under his belt, and the other four were two privates and two more corporals, which left me as the ranking officer for our motley group.

The trip to the outpost took about two hours, and then we were given a quick tour of the facility, including a rundown on the more vital structures and where most of the staff were located. If an attack did occur, protecting those buildings would be our priority.

I wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing when, three days later, we all filed back onto the transporter, dusty and hot, to report that absolutely nothing of any interest had occurred during the mission. On one hand, the outpost was safe and none of us were injured. But on the downside, the excursion had failed to provide any testing of Kade’s abilities, either in combat, or on the more sensitive topic of how he followed orders. Henderson was still nervous about how much guidance Kade would need, as compared to the average soldier’s capacity to think for themselves. Kade hadn’t complained at any point throughout the assignment, and when I asked him what he’d thought of it, back home that night, he smiled knowingly. “It was routine,” he said. “Sometimes routine is a good thing. It means nobody’s getting shot.” It was a reminder of how quickly a mission could go wrong, and I smiled, then kissed him and tumbled him into bed.

In hindsight, I should probably have spent more time enjoying that quiet routine. Our next assignment was nothing like that simple.

???

“Associate Fi Nors will be travelling from Adavi to Hon for a seven day visit,” Colonel Henderson announced, as he laid out the assignment that Kade, Bryce, Vosh and myself were going to be running. Bryce had apparently been cleared for active duty, the stability boot no longer on his foot, and I was profoundly grateful for that. Missions always ran smoother with Bryce at the helm.

“Elections are still six months away,” Henderson went on, “but Nors is taking a very pro-active stance on the terraforming projects and wants to visit the farming conglomerate to the west of Hon, accompanied by Associate Plerg. I haven’t been told what their official business is together, but there are plenty of rumours about the pair of them trying to bolster each other’s chances for re-election by putting together a plan to petition the Parliament for a greater focus on terraforming for the east coast. We have one of the highest rainfalls on Rendol 4, so there would be a certain amount of logic to that decision. ”

The Rendol Parliament was made up of two hundred Associates, with elections held every four years. Most of the time, the Associates remained within the geographical area they represented, conducting parliamentary meetings via holographic conferences. But every now and then, there was a reason for one of them to visit another region in person.

“The obvious problem,” Henderson went on, “is that to get from Adavi to Hon, she has to cross the South Hon Desert, which is a known Geshtoch problem area. No matter how many times we warn them to stick to the terms of the treaty and stay in the coastal hills, they continue to encroach on Alliance territory. The four of you are going to be escorting her and two of her aides in an armoured transporter. You’ll be riding side-saddle, armed with rocket launchers, and your official orders are to treat any and all movement on the ground as life-threatening.”

What Henderson meant by that was that each of us would be stationed on gunner seats off the sides of the transporter, ready to blow up anything that moved in the desert below us. The Geshtoch were known to use EMP grenades to knock transporters out of the sky, so given their refusal to stick to their own territory, our response had become to shoot first and ask questions later. Officially, the Rendol Parliament was reviewing the terms of the treaty we had with the Geshtoch. In reality, all we seemed to be doing was taking pot-shots at each other, though given the increasing number of fatalities, pressure was mounting to find a real solution to the problem.

As we headed for our rooms to pack the appropriate overnight bags, I pulled Kade aside. “Did you read that information on the Geshtoch I sent you?” I asked him.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, as I knew he would.

“Good. This mission is way more important than the last one we did, or even the cargo retrieval where we first met. Associate Nors is one of the youngest, and the most popular Associates in the parliament, and she’s had some of the most progressive policies on terraforming. If she gets killed, it could change the face of politics for the entire planet. So just to make sure you’ve got this clear: If you see something move in the desert, shoot it. If you’re not sure if you saw something move, shoot it anyway. The Geshtoch do not fuck around. So neither do we. Any questions?”

“Is there likely to be anyone other than Geshtoch in the desert?” Kade asked.

“No. All Alliance members – both military and civilian – travel by air, and there are copious warnings to keep adventurers or hoverbike riders out of the area. The warnings literally say, ‘If you enter this area, you will be shot on sight.’ Whether it’s us or the Geshtoch who do the shooting is just details.”

He nodded. “Fair enough. If anything moves, I’ll shoot it. ”

I patted him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get packed. We’re only scheduled to stay for one night, but we always take emergency camping gear, as well. Two meal packets, a sleeping roll and a waterproof poncho.”

We assembled in the transporter docking bay, listening to the drone of the engines as they warmed up one of the armoured transporters. We all stowed our gear inside the transporter, then donned the wind-proof suits that would stop us suffering from hypothermia, hanging off the side of a rapidly moving flying tank. There were four gunner seats; front and rear on both the port and starboard sides. I took front starboard, and with a nod from Bryce, assigned Kade to the rear starboard, so I could keep an eye on him. We would have an open communication channel via the helmets, but given this was our first real mission together, I felt better keeping him within sight when possible.

Half an hour later, we were waving goodbye to the last dregs of the jungle south of Hon, leafy green replaced with dusty beige. “Heads up, folks,” Bryce said, through the comm channel. “We’ve got two hours of this. And if anyone hasn’t shot at something by the end of this, I will be asking questions.”

He was joking, but only just. Given the proximity of our flight path to Geshtoch territory, the chances of getting through this without having to shoot at them were slim.

The first hour passed without incident. The desert was mostly featureless, just endless plains of hard-baked sand. Occasional rocky outcrops broke up the landscape, and the pilot deliberately avoided them, knowing they were prime hiding spots for the Geshtoch.

Then, just over the halfway mark of the journey, I saw Kade suddenly swing around in his seat. The rocket launchers were mounted on brackets attached to the transporter, designed to swivel so that the gunner had a full one-eighty degree range of motion. Kade’s focus was on something out to the west of us, and I automatically tracked the direction of his gaze. I couldn’t see anything out there. But a moment later, the boom of the rocket launcher being fired cracked over the rumble of the transporter engine. Off in the sand, a small explosion plumed into the air.

“Unconfirmed movement at three o’clock,” Kade reported, letting the two on the other side of the transporter know what was going on.

“What did you see?” I asked him, not because I didn’t trust him, but because I hadn’t seen anything, and I was curious as to what he’d picked up.

“Something shimmering,” he said, eyes still trained on the desert to the west. “Could have just been the heat. Or it could have been something metallic.”

“Plenty of crashed ships out this way,” the pilot chimed in. He was a human man by the name of Carlos Bidge, and he’d told us early in the flight that he’d been flying for the military for over ten years. “I’m not saying don’t shoot at them. But it’s good to know they’re there, nonetheless.”

Another two minutes passed, all of us keeping our eyes peeled for the slightest hint of trouble. And then two shots sounded from the port side of the transporter. “Movement at ten o’clock,” Bryce said, his voice a calm rumble. Two more shots, and the pilot banked westwards.

“Geshtoch are returning fire,” the pilot said, just the faintest tremor in his voice. “Taking evasive action.”

Two more shots came from the port side, and then Bryce reported, “Direct hit. Geshtoch are abandoning pursuit.”

Over the next hour, we had to shoot at targets three more times. One was unconfirmed movement, spotted by Vosh, while the other two were confirmed targets taken out by Kade and myself. One was a lone pair of Geshtoch on foot – no less dangerous for their lack of hoverbikes and pack mates – and the other was a small encampment stationed around the base of a rock pillar. As a result of our shots, a significant section of the rock broke off from further up the pillar, landing on the camp with a thud that sent up a great plume of dust. A small part of me felt bad for shooting at people who hadn’t been threatening us… but another part of me knew that we were fifty kilometres past the end of designated Geshtoch territory, and therefore, these people had no right to be here in the first place. I desperately hoped that the Parliament came up with a solution to this constant bickering between us sooner, rather than later.

???

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am,” I said, as Bryce completed the introductions of our small group, all of us standing at attention in front of Associate Fi Nors. She was a Solof, tall and slender, with vibrant purple skin. “I hear you have ambitious plans for the terraforming north of Adavi.”

“I certainly do,” Associate Nors said, tossing her long, purple hair behind her shoulder and beaming at me. “But I’ll spare you the details. Get me talking about terraforming and we’ll be here all day. I’m very grateful to you for coming, though. I understand your transporter took some minor damage on the way here?” she asked, turning a quizzical look Bryce’s way.

“Superficial damage only,” he said. “Nonetheless, the Adavi base is taking a look at it, just to make sure everything’s in good shape for the return trip.” That, more than anything else, was why we needed to stay the night. No transport mission through Geshtoch territory ever made a return trip on the same day, partly to avoid running into the same Geshtoch we’d pissed off earlier today, and partly to allow any repairs to be carried out on the transporter. We’d gotten off lightly this time, but there had been plenty of times the vehicles had sustained more serious damage .

“Well, since we have time, I’d love to show you around the garden district of the city this afternoon,” Associate Nors said, sounding excited about the idea. As many Solof women did, she’d dusted her face with a metallic makeup, making her purple skin shimmer slightly. “And this evening, I’m treating you all to dinner at Toda’s Grill. They serve the finest Denzogali cuisine in the entire city.”

I blinked, not sure how to respond to the announcement. As a military escort, we’d been expecting to be doing nothing more than cooling our heels all afternoon, followed by a standard military dinner in the Adavi base’s canteen. I looked at Bryce, not sure whether her kind gesture would be breaking regulations.

He gave a minute shrug, then said, “That’s most kind of you, Associate. We’d be honoured.”

“Oh, call me Fi,” Associate Nors said. One of her aides softly cleared their throat, which Associate Nors pointedly ignored.

“Excuse me, Associate?” the woman ventured, when her attempt at subtlety failed, but Nors waved her off.

“I have no patience for unnecessarily rigid decorum,” she said. “I am a citizen of Rendol 4, just like these gentlemen, and given that they’re risking their lives to protect mine, I think it’s perfectly reasonable for them to call me by my given name.”

I was grateful I wasn’t in charge of this mission, as Associate Nors went entirely off script. We’d been briefed by Henderson on the very official and very formal nature of this visit, and now, we were all left floundering. Thankfully, Bryce had a handle on appropriate etiquette.

He smiled at her. “We’re as grateful to you for your service in improving this planet as you are to us for protecting you. And that’s not idle flattery. Terraforming progress along the east coast is two years ahead of schedule and we’re already beginning to see more stable temperatures as a result. I’d be delighted to see the gardens. And I’m sure my colleagues would agree.”

The rest of us made various noises of assent, and then we were collecting our gear and heading off to get settled into the barracks, with plans to meet Associate Nors at the base entrance in half an hour’s time.

The afternoon’s excursion was an entirely welcome break from the usual military routine, as we meandered slowly around immaculate gardens that showcased ecosystems from all six of the Alliance’s homeworld planets. I was particularly fascinated by the Wasopish rain gardens, where tiny sprinklers kept the plants constantly wet, and not only the flowers, but the leaves of the plants boasted vibrant and varied colours.

After they’d calmed down from the break in protocol, Associate Nors’ two aides turned out to be cheerful and well-educated women. Lin, in particular – the older of the two – was eager to drop interesting tidbits of information into the conversation, and I got the impression that Kade found the impromptu education fascinating.

Back at the base, we showered, then met Associate Nors at the restaurant. In the hour or so since we’d last seen her, she’d secured her purple hair into eight long braids – a typical Solof style – and donned a long, black dress that highlighted her curves. If I’d been attracted to women, I would probably have found her rather stunning. As it was, I could appreciate her beauty on an objective level. Vosh, on the other hand, spent the evening blushing and stuttering, her yellow skin splotching orange every time Nors glanced her way.

Despite Nors’ intention to give us a pleasant night off, I found the whole situation rather awkward – as did both Kade and Vosh. Since we didn’t want to take advantage of her hospitality, we all chose relatively inexpensive meals – I suggested two different options to Kade, letting him choose which one he wanted – and I had to turn down an offer of alcohol not once, but three times. I had no objection to drinking on principle, but it was strictly forbidden while on duty, and Nors didn’t seem to pick up on the nuances of our attendance here. Only Bryce seemed at ease, smiling and chatting throughout the meal, though he, too, chose a very middle-of-the-range meal and also refused to drink.

As we were heading back to our rooms for the night, Kade sidled up to me. “Sir? May I ask a question about this mission?”

“Of course,” I said, “but maybe wait until we’re behind closed doors.” It wasn’t so much the mission itself that had me on edge, as it was Associate Nors’ obvious disinclination to follow protocol. While she saw her own behaviour as friendly and welcoming, from a military perspective, it created a heightened risk of her putting herself in danger, if she failed to follow the strict guidelines for travel across the desert. Any unknown in a journey like this one was a cause for concern.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked Kade, once we were safely tucked away in my room.

“I wanted to clarify… Are today’s events typical for a military mission? I was not expecting this. And the dinner, in particular.”

We’d all been caught off guard on that one, with nothing but military fatigues to wear to dinner, which had obviously been inappropriate for such a high class restaurant. Tongues would be wagging all over the city by tomorrow morning, but Associate Nors had just brushed the stares and tittering aside.

“Nope, this is well out of the ordinary,” I told Kade. “And now I’m not really sure how tomorrow’s going to go. My fear is that if we have to tell Nors to follow instructions at any point, she’s not going to, and then if anything goes wrong, all hell breaks loose. ”

Kade nodded. “Given the risk of injury or death if she disobeys protocol, what would be an appropriate response? Should I prioritise her safety, or her autonomy?”

I sighed. “That’s a tough one. There’s a fine line between the two, and the right answer could vary depending on the exact context. I would say prioritise her safety, but do so using the minimum necessary force.”

“Yes, sir,” Kade said. “Shall I return to my room now?”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I watched as he closed the door behind him, then rubbed my hand over my eyes. One way or another, tomorrow was going to be a very interesting day.