Nova

For my Grandparents, Poppie, Grandma Cahill, and Grandma Marcella.

Thank you for the always ready hugs, evening story time, teaching me to read and to think critically, feeding my book addiction with monthly bookstore trips, and being the most supportive audience any child or adult could ever wish for.

Acknowledgements

Deepest gratitude to my dear
friend and ever–ready sounding board and cheerleader, Michael. Thanks also to
all of those who helped me reach this point in my journey, including: Mom (I miss
you every day), Dad, my amazing sister Lindsay, Taj, Ian, Ada, Gwen, Stevie, Chelsea,
Jan, Sunnie, Tasha, Daniel, Pam, and Chris. Most of all, thanks to my dearest love
Cynthia, who in myriad ways, has supported me every day as I dove into (and
frequently got lost in) the worlds of Nova and Ember, even though she herself
doesn’t quite get the whole “Fantasy & Sci–Fi thing.”

CHAPTER 1

“Docking tube connection in ten minutes, Sir.”

“Thank you, Jessica.” Jameson Sweetwater broke out of his
exhaustion induced reverie with a low cough at his Second’s words, knowing that
he would get a good broadside view right before the civilian transport cruiser
connected to the other ship and his destination. The
QS Excalibur
glided
into sight a moment later, a marvel of modern starship design. The frigate was
roughly triangular in shape, powerful yet sleek, its royal blue and silvery–steel
colored hull almost fading into the chill beauty of the darkness of space.

When he was a boy, Jameson had wanted nothing more than to Captain
a vessel like the
Excalibur
. As a young man, he had entered the Academy
and after graduation, joined the Navy. He had served four tours aboard Ministry
vessels, making Captain of the
MS Zhou
and eventually, Colonel. For
forty years, Sweetwater had helped to keep the Aligned Ministry Systems safe
within and without its borders. His life had been filled with celebrating,
mourning, and bleeding with his fellow officers and soldiers during war; executing
development projects, transporting critical assets, training, and patrolling
during peace.

Yet despite having what most would label as a successful
career, after four decades of spent life’s blood and a lost marriage protecting
and promoting Human interests, Sweetwater had recognized that the most
effective tactic to make real change was to offer himself to his people in a
different realm. Experience and soul–searching brought about the reluctant
realization that the optimum means to serve was to wade through the muck–filled
mire of intergalactic politics.

Utilizing a keen mind and an exceptional record as a lauded
war hero, at eighty–one, just shy of middle age by modern Human standards, Jameson
had risen to the position of one of the two Human Quorum Delegates. As such, he
was responsible for guiding all Quorum galactic policies and politics across
dozens of systems and close to half a hundred worlds. Trillions of lives of all
the known species were affected by his work with his fellow Delegates.

It was a reality that had hit home with smashing shock the
last several years, accounting for the near–perpetual state of exhaustion that
he strove to keep hidden. It was rare for the energetic façade he laboriously
projected on a daily basis to slip, a reality that materialized only for those
few, stolen moments of quiet.

Moments like this
.

As the
QS Excalibur
slipped from view and his own
ship, the
SS Tigen,
lined up for docking, Jameson breathed in deeply. Staring
out into the stretches of star–dotted space, he found himself longing for a
time that in some ways was much less complicated. When his battlefield
was
a battlefield, when most days how well he did his job affected only a few hundred
to a few thousand people. With a heavy sigh, Jameson rubbed his brow as all the
worries he carried threatened to overwhelm, darting and flitting about in his
mind like trout snatching afflies in the Tahona River near the city of his
birth.

The Margrom War had ended only two and a half years ago, and
relations between the Human Ministry worlds and the Karukai Eternal Imperium were
strained, to say the least, with border skirmishes being the norm. And of
course, the difficulty of galvanizing the other Quorum Systems to prepare for the
waking menace of the Karukai, lurking in the shadows and quietly waiting to
strike as apathetic Systems strove to convince themselves that the Karukai
only
attack remote worlds “out over there somewhere.” That their children would be
safe. Too many failed to recall the Karukai expansionist drive that comprised
the very foundation of their society. Too many have forgotten the butcheries and
swath of destruction enacted during Dark Reach Wars.

Added to the Karukai threat was the standard politicking
motivated by self–interest, not to mention other internal dangers like the
radical group Genesis, screaming their anti–Arcatech bullshit for all to hear.
That is, when they weren’t busy murdering scientists and bombing R&D
centers in the name of salvation from technology.

“Five minutes until docking tube connection is complete, Delegate.”

Second Delegate Jessica Marn’s voice stopped the rattling
spin of Jameson’s worries. He forced himself to relax, let the pretense of
unshakable confidence that had become so quotidian, that most times even
he
forgot that it was camouflage, slip securely into place like a docking clamp. The
people depending on him not only expected but
deserved
to see him project
vitality and poise. And, he reminded himself with a small, genuine smile, all
was not bleak. Both Humanity and the other Quorum races had survived and even
thrived for over a millennium, overcoming more crises than a Zirgesh banker
could count. Through the application of perseverance, dedication, and the
talents of key individuals and assets, despite its many missteps, galactic
civilization had prospered.

Quorum Delegate Jameson Sweetwater straightened his formal white
suit, unconsciously falling back on military presentation learned a life–time
ago, and stepped out of his cabin to make his way several levels up to the
docking tube and the
Excalibur
.

It was time to once again apply one of the Quorum’s most
critical Assets.

 * * * * *

“
Present
!” One dozen marines quarter–turned, slammed
their boots together, and saluted at the precisely inflected command. Jameson
felt a genuine rush of pleasure at the military honor as he spied the two
officers that stood at attention in full dress blue and black before
Excalibur’s
port docking tube exit.

The shorter of the two by some two inches and the one who
had vocalized the salute command, was a large man with skin the color of wet
river–sand and eyes a rich, golden brown. His hair was a well–trimmed, short
bush of spiky black. Despite the flawless uniform he was attired in, there was
something about how he held himself that created the instant impression that if
you were bright, you never wanted to tangle with this man in a bar. Perhaps it
was his features, which included a scarred chin and a crooked nose that had
obviously been broken in various fisticuffs on more than one occasion. Or maybe
it was his rather impressive shoulder–span and heavily muscled torso and arms.

In short, Commander Marcus Perez represented trouble for the
foolish on two legs.

Yet despite Commander Perez’s undeniable physical presence,
in a way, he seemed to be somehow
less
than the officer that stood to
his left, and it wasn’t because of the slim height difference. The other officer’s
dress uniform was also immaculate, sporting the three large, upside down
triangular pips and two short platinum chains of a Human Ministry Captain. Like
Commander Perez, she chose to not wear her naval beret, exposing short dark
hair comprised of wavy locks that spilled across a lightly tanned, smooth
forehead. High cheekbones helped to frame arresting, wide–set eyes the color of
a dark, stormy–blue sky. Those eyes crackled with palpable, almost kinetic
energy as they steadily regarded Jameson moving towards her. At Jameson’s
approach, the woman’s well–formed lips turned up in the slightest quirk,
betraying her happiness at seeing him once more.

When Jameson stopped two paces in front of the Captain of
QS
Excalibur
, an elegant yet strong right hand snapped with quick, almost
casual grace to her forehead in a formal salute. “Delegate Sweetwater, welcome
aboard, Sir!” The Captain’s voice was surprisingly melodic, a steel and velvet high
alto, inflection and enunciation perfectly precise, yet fluid.

“Captain Serros, thank you for your welcome.” Jameson replied
officially, then held out his hand with a smile. Rigid formality dispensed
with, Serros took his palm in a firm grasp, her strength hinted at by sleek
muscles tempered by innate consideration.

“It’s a real pleasure to see you again, Captain Serros.  It’s
also good to see you, Commander Perez.” Sweetwater issued the last with a nod
to the
Excalibur’s
Executive Officer.

“The same in return, Delegate.” Commander Perez rumbled in
his warm baritone.

“And thank you for responding with such alacrity.”

“If able, I always shall.” Captain Avara Serros responded
with simple sincerity, then added, “Can’t wait to find out what made you leave
Sigil and the pleasures of galactic politics to meet me in person, rather than
using the Comm.”

“Well, you Shields Operatives
are
hard to track down
at times, even for old friends.” Sweetwater teased.

Captain Serros raised one slender eyebrow at that, eyes
focusing like twin laser beams for a moment before choosing to affably go along
with his friendly evasion. “Well, SpecOps tends to be just a bit demanding at
times.” She drawled.