“Of course.” The president looked away from Sawyer. “I’m certain you have many questions as to why you’re here.” A wary glance at Melissa; he doubtless knew that she belonged to the Order and probably wondered whether she was searching his mind. A quiet nod seemed to reassure him, and he went on. “General Lee has already been told that we’ve received an unconfirmed report that the
chaaz’maha
is still alive. Now it’s time to let you know the rest.”
Edgar reached forward to a comp embedded in the table’s polished surface. His index finger caressed its keypad, and a holo glowed to life above the table. Suspended within it was a miniature of a rather primitive-looking spacecraft. Little more than a collection of fuel tanks arranged around a fusion engine with a cylindrical cargo module at its bow, the vessel was clearly a deep-space freighter, yet one so old that it probably should have been decommissioned a long time ago.
“This is
The Heroism of Che Guevara
,” Edgar said, “a Jovian freighter registered to the Union Astronautica . . . and yes, it is an antique, isn’t it?” As the miniature rotated on its axis, Jorge saw a Federation skiff attached to its port docking collar. “Two days ago, it made an unscheduled arrival through the starbridge . . . the reason being that it came from Earth.”
The president had a politician’s flair for the dramatic. Edgar allowed a moment for what he’d just said to sink in, savoring the shocked expressions of everyone in the room. Everyone except Sawyer, that is; from the corner of his eye, Jorge noticed that he was the only one who wasn’t taken by surprise. Of course, the general would already have known about this; nevertheless, Jorge was amazed that Sawyer had managed to keep the news to himself.
But that was a minor distraction, compared to the bombshell Edgar had just dropped. It had been a little over six years—nineteen by the Gregorian calendar—since the last time a ship from Earth had come through Starbridge Coyote. Although the starbridge was reopened three years ago, no vessels from the Coyote Federation had been permitted to visit the birthplace of humankind. That was the stipulation that the
hjadd
had made for their assistance, a prohibition that the Talus had seconded. The aliens had no quarrel with Coyote, but they had come to believe that Earth was not mature enough to be allowed hyperspace access to Coyote or, by extension, the rest of the galaxy. The fact that the
Lee
had been destroyed by a member of a religious sect opposed to extraterrestrial contact was all the proof the
hjadd
needed to assert their claim that Earth was a danger to the Talus, and arguably even to Coyote itself.
So when Starbridge Coyote was rebuilt, the
hjadd
had been careful to reprogram its AI so that the starbridge wouldn’t accept the hyperspace coordinates for Starbridge Earth installed in navigation keys used by human spacecraft. No ship could open a starbridge, regardless of where it was located, unless coded hyperlink signals were accepted by bridges at both ends; in this way, the Talus assured that its starbridges could only be used for peaceful purposes, not invasion or war.
Thus, while vessels from Coyote were permitted to journey first to Rho Coronae Borealis, the
hjadd
home system, and later the other worlds of the Talus, travel to Earth was prohibited. And although Starbridge Earth probably hadn’t been damaged by the destruction of Starbridge Coyote and subsequent collapse of the wormhole, there was also no way a vessel from Earth could reach 47 Ursae Majoris. Or at least not through hyperspace; a slower-than-light vessel might eventually get there, but it would be many years before it arrived.
“That’s”—Jorge stopped himself before he said
impossible
—“incredible. The key system . . .”
“Would have prevented Starbridge Earth from opening a wormhole to 47 Uma.” The president lifted a finger. “But that’s not Earth’s only means of hyperspace access, is it?”
“There’s another?” Jorge glanced at the others. Inez and Melissa were just as bewildered as he was. Only Sawyer seemed to know what Edgar was talking about. “Sorry, Mr. President, but I never heard about...”
“KX-1.” Sawyer’s voice was vaguely amused. “Have you forgotten your history, Lieutenant?” Before Jorge could reply, Sawyer clasped his hands together upon the table. “Back in 2288, when the European Alliance was first experimenting with hyperspace travel, they built a prototype starbridge in orbit around Eris, a Kuiper Belt plutoid.” Seeing the expression on Jorge’s face, he rolled his eyes. “The region of dwarf planets on the outer fringes of Earth’s solar system. Don’t they teach you kids anything these days?”
Jorge let it go. Arguing with Sawyer was usually a no-win proposition. “I remember now,” Inez said, speaking up for the first time. “Wasn’t that the one used by the
Galileo
when it set out to explore Spindrift?”
“Right you are.” Sawyer grinned, then nodded to Melissa. “You must have good schools in The Sanctuary.” Melissa smiled back at him, and Sawyer went on. “Yes, that’s the one . . . and, of course”—another glance at Jorge—“that’s the expedition that led to our first contact with the
hjadd
.”
“And the rest is history.” Apparently annoyed to find himself momentarily forgotten, Edgar pointedly cleared his throat. “KX-1 was abandoned after that. After all, it was only an experimental model and didn’t need to be used again. But it was still functional, and so . . .”
A pause, then he gave an offhand shrug, as if this was only a minor issue. “Well, it seems someone finally remembered it. And since the
hjadd
had only shut down access to Starbridge Earth, it was possible for the access code for our own starbridge to be modified, thereby allowing a ship to use KX-1 to make the jump to 47 Uma.”
“Of course!” Jorge laughed out loud. “If you still have a key, then you could deconstruct the code, remove the coordinates for Starbridge Earth, and substitute the ones for KX-1. That way, you’d have a way of opening a wormhole between Eris and Coyote.”
“Very good, Lieutenant.” A condescending smile from the president. “Yes, that’s exactly what was done.”
Apparently Jorge had just saved the Corps’ reputation, because he received an approving nod from Sawyer, but another thought occurred to him. “But . . . sorry, sir, I still don’t get it. Why did it take so long for someone on Earth to figure that out? I mean, it’s been almost twenty years.”
“There’s a reason for this, yes . . . and that brings us to the rest of the story.” The president started to reach for the com patch on his shirt, then stopped himself. “Before we go on, though, there are a few things you should know. First, I want to remind you . . . just in case you’ve forgotten . . . that this matter is classified and should not be discussed with any outside this room.”
“I’ve already informed them of that, Mr. President,” Sawyer murmured.
“Very good.” Edgar barely glanced his way. “Second . . . for the time being, at least, you’re not to identify yourselves as members of the Corps of Exploration. This includes addressing one another by rank, calling each other ‘sir,’ anything like that. Until I say otherwise, you’re here as civilian consultants, with no other governmental or military ties whatsoever.” He looked at Melissa. “Same goes for the Order. For purposes of this meeting, it simply doesn’t exist. Likewise, your special . . . um, talent.”
“Understood, sir,” Melissa said. “It won’t be mentioned.”
“Yes, but”—again, the president raised a finger—“I’d like for you to use them anyway. For the person you’ll soon meet, that is. I want to know if he’s telling the truth.”
Edgar appeared reluctant to make this request. Jorge wondered if this was the first time he’d ever met someone from the Order of the Eye, let alone enlisted their aid. Melissa simply nodded, though, and the president went on. “Finally . . . and this is most important of all . . . I don’t want you, or anyone else here, to acknowledge your relationship with the
chaaz’maha
.”
“Sir?” Inez stared at him. “Mr. President, I don’t know if you’ve been told this, but he’s . . .”
“Your father.” Edgar gave her an impatient nod. “I’m aware of that. And I’m sure you want to know whether he’s still alive. But on this one point, you have to restrain yourself. The person you’re about to meet must not know . . . or at least not for now . . . that you’re his daughter. Am I perfectly clear?”
Baffled, the others looked at one another. No one objected, though, and that was enough to satisfy the president. He touched his patch. “Sergeant, please bring in our guest.”
A few moments passed, then the door opened, and a blueshirt escorted a short, slightly overweight man into the room. In his midfifties by Gregorian reckoning, his short dark hair threaded with grey, he wore a Federation Navy jumpsuit that didn’t quite fit; Jorge figured that it had probably been given to him sometime in the last couple of days. Although he appeared to have already met Edgar, he regarded the other people in the room with suspicion, uncertain of who they were or why they were there.
“Good morning, Captain. Please have a seat.” Edgar gestured to a chair at the other end of the table. The blueshirt left, closing the door behind him. “Gentlemen, ladies . . . Captain Sergio Vargas of the Union Astronautica.”
“Not anymore.” A quick smile from Vargas as he sat down. “With all due respect, Mr. President, I haven’t held that rank in many years . . . at least not since the Western Hemisphere Union collapsed.”
“My apologies.” Edgar nodded toward the hologram of the
Guevara
, still suspended above the table. “But your ship . . . doesn’t it have WHU markings?”
“Only because someone neglected to remove them from the hull.” Obviously nervous, Vargas fidgeted in his seat, not quite knowing what to do with his hands. “As I’ve already informed you and your people, sir, the Union Astronautica hasn’t existed in nineteen years.” He shrugged. “I took what I was able to get, and that was
The Heroism of Che Guevara
.”
“Interesting name,” Jorge murmured. “Who was Che Guevara?”
Sawyer ignored him. “You stole your vessel?”
“Yes. The
Guevara
was a decommissioned Jovian freighter dry-docked at Highgate, on its way to a lunar junkyard. I managed to get it refueled, and once I transferred my nav key to its comp, I took off for Eris.”
“You got all the way to Eris in that?” Jorge was hardly an expert in astronautics, but he knew just enough to be incredulous. “Pardon me, but I’m . . .”
“Mr. Montero.” Edgar gave him an admonishing look, and Jorge shut up. The president returned his attention to Vargas. “Let me introduce you. Mr. Montero, Ms. Torres, Ms. Sanchez, and Mr. Lee are from the history and sociology departments of the University of New Florida. I’ve asked them to be here as consultants.”
Jorge hid his grin behind a raised hand. His mother was a faculty member; she would’ve been amused to hear her son identified as a professor. The others managed to keep straight faces as they murmured greetings. Vargas appeared to accept Edgar’s explanation although Jorge noticed that he gave Melissa more than a passing glance.
“Pleased to meet you all.” Vargas looked at Jorge. “To answer your question . . . yes, I know it sounds hard to believe, but I did get to KX-1 in that craft. The
Guevara
is designed to make a round-trip to Jupiter and back without refueling. Eris is considerably farther away, of course . . . 70.5 AUs from Earth . . . but once I got the ship up to cruise velocity, I set the autopilot for automatic braking and rendezvous, then put myself in the emergency biostasis cell.” A smug grin, as if all this had been easily accomplished. “Sixty-two days later, just before the ship reached Eris, the comp woke me up, and I went about reactivating the starbridge.”
“Still, you must have taken a terrific risk,” Sawyer said. “Even with a Jovian freighter, you must have exhausted your reserves getting there. Especially if you got it up to cruise speed.”
Vargas nodded. “Yes, sir, that’s true. I ran the main engine at its maximum rating of 200,000 ips to achieve a velocity of 2,000 kilometers per second . . . a lot to expect from the old bird, to be sure, and you’re correct in that I used up all my fuel. But I knew I wasn’t going home, though, so I figured I could do that.”
“You meant to take a one-way trip?” Melissa raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “You must have been desperate.”
“Yes, I was.” Again, he stared directly at her . . . and this time, Jorge noticed it was Melissa’s turn to become uneasy. “Excuse me, but who did you say you are?”
Before she could respond, the president butted in. “I understand that you managed to acquire a starbridge key, along with its hyperspace codes. How did you do that?”
Vargas reluctantly looked away from Melissa. “I’ve told you these things already, Mr. President, but I expect you want me to repeat it for the benefit of . . .”
“Yes, please. I figured that you could explain it better than I could.”
“Very well.” A shrug, then Vargas went on. “When I was in the UA, I was the captain of a lunar freighter . . .
The Legend of Simon Bolivar
, one of the vessels that brought Union refugees here.” A wry grin. “So this isn’t the first time I’ve made the jump to Coyote. In fact, it’s my third trip . . . the only difference is that, this time, I used a different ship and didn’t have any crew or passengers.”
“So you used the key that once operated the
Bolivar
’s nav comp?” Sawyer asked.
“Yes. Before the
Bolivar
was grounded for good . . . that was after it failed to make the final jump to Coyote, the day your starbridge was destroyed . . . I removed the key and took it with me.” Vargas let out his breath. “I’d learned what happened here before anyone else did, and although I figured that there was little chance your starbridge would be rebuilt, I decided to take the key on the off-chance that I might be able to use it again.”
“Just a moment.” Inez had been quiet until then. “Something you just said, about knowing what happened before anyone else did. What did you mean by that?”