Starhold (5 page)

Next to Monet, Stone Siebert rustled. The Minister of Home Affairs was a large, porcine man with heavy jowls and graying hair. He was a good administrator but tended to bluster, and Darracott felt a gale coming on.

“Admiral,” Siebert addressed Polanco. He never called Polanco by his civilian title of First Consul, persistent in the belief that by not doing so, it somehow put Polanco in his place. “Firstly, I’m astounded that the military has kept this information from the government for what, at least five or six standard months now? I mean, it’s very clear that one of the other starholds, probably the Gerrhans, has violated the Earth Quarantine Treaty.”

“Minister Siebert,” Jason Tolbert cut in. “Did you hear what Doctor Monet just said? What is happening at Earth is beyond present human science. The last time I looked, the Gerrhans were human.”

Siebert’s face seemed to turn ruddier than usual. “So we have an alien invasion on our hands and nobody notifies the government!”

That’s it, Siebert—forget the gravity of the situation, because it’s all about you. By the way, Stone, in case you missed it, the military IS the government, we just work for them…

Polanco asserted himself. “Shall we keep our composure everyone? OMI has dispatched two operatives to do an on-planet reconnaissance. Additionally, we have made certain military moves. Admiral Sanchez.”

Leonardo Sanchez nodded but did not stand. “Central Command has pulled together ships from various fleets to form what we are designating as Task Force Nineteen. The task force is composed of the battleship
Vespera
, three cruisers, five destroyers, five frigates, and two oilers—sixteen vessels in all. These ships will rendezvous at Rusalka Station under the command of Vice Admiral Getchell. Once they have assembled, they will make the hyperspace trip to the Sol system, evaluate the report from Director Tolbert’s operatives, and act accordingly.”

Polanco quickly picked up where Sanchez left off. “Admiral Getchell has my fullest confidence on this matter. I’m sure he will act decisively, but not recklessly.”

From her flagship many light-years away, Brin Choi stood to address the group, but she was mainly speaking to the First Consul. “That’s a large task force, but they’ve never worked together before. It’s apparent that we are dealing with a serious threat here and I question whether a makeshift task force and a ground force of two people can deal effectively with this situation. I mean no disrespect, Admiral Sanchez.

“None taken, Admiral.”

Choi continued, pleading with the First Consul. “I can take Second Fleet to Hybrias and we can be at Earth within a standard month. Just say the word—we can move out immediately, Admiral.”

Channa Maxon spoke up from her seat just to Polanco’s right. “And leave the Zavijava system undefended? We’re possibly on the brink of war with the Commonwealth and you propose to leave some twenty million people defended by what—a garrison squadron? Admiral Choi, Getchell’s force can handle this.”

“Getchell is a dinosaur,” Choi said dryly.

“Getchell is a fine officer.”

“Getchell was on the wrong side last year!”

“You know he’s been fully vetted,” groused Maxon. “In fact, correct me if I’m wrong, Admiral, but I believe you were the one that vetted him!”

Renata Darracott was almost as fascinated by this exchange as the news about Earth.
Uh oh, lover’s quarrel. Keep it up Channa and you may be looking for a new girlfriend…

“Enough!” The First Consul was unsettled by this exchange between his two favorite flag officers. “Firstly, we no longer question an officer’s capabilities or loyalty based on what happened during the Rebellion. Do I make myself clear on that, Admiral Choi?”

“Sir, I was out of line. My apologies.” Choi spoke repentance, but didn’t look it.

The Admiral-in-Chief shifted to a softer tone, trying to diffuse the situation. “Brin, I know Second Fleet can handle any situation, but I need you in the Zavijava system. You’re close to Commonwealth space and if things were to get ugly, I want you nearby. I’ve ordered Sixth Fleet to the Hybrias system, in order to reinforce Task Force Nineteen should that become necessary.”

Choi sat down looking pained, as if the words “Sixth Fleet” had been a knife thrust into her side. Honestly, Darracott was also somewhat unsettled by this news. Sixth Fleet was stationed in her home system, Rousseau. She could see the strategic merit of it: Rousseau was far away from the Gerrhan frontier and was the least populated of all Union systems, but nonetheless, leaving her homeworld lightly protected concerned her.

“One final thing,” Polanco said, as he shifted to a voice that meant there would be no further discussion. “Things are very tense between our starhold and the Gerrhan Commonwealth right now. Because of the risks, I have opened a dialog with President Townsend. I have shared much of the information regarding Earth with him and his government.”

The conference table stirred. Darracott sat calmly holding her composure, but others barely contained themselves. Minister Siebert appeared to be on the verge of his long awaited heart attack. Brin Choi looked like she was about to jump through the holographic signal and materialize on the spot. Even Channa Maxon reacted—obviously, Polanco hadn’t shared everything with her.

“Sir,” Maxon spoke up, “the Gerrhans will most probably send their own force to Earth to investigate.”

“Well then, whoever these interlopers on Earth are, they’ll have twice as much to worry about,” Polanco said, being the only one in the room to find any amusement in his quip.

The First Consul put on an earnest face. “I understand your anxiety, but we must make every effort to avoid conflict with the Commonwealth, and that means avoiding escalation. It’s imperative that we find out about this business on Earth. I’m certain it’s related to the attack on the Gerrhan station.

“Some of you can barely remember the Settlement Wars, but I do. Thousands of people died, and I won’t bring that upon our citizens again if it can be helped. Therefore, for the time being, Central Command will order all units to step up from Condition Blue to Condition Green, and we will wait for word from the OMI and Task Force Nineteen. That will be all.”

In short order, everyone had vacated the conference room except Polanco, Maxon, and Darracott. Admiral Maxon obviously wanted to accompany Polanco as he left.

“Channa, I need a word with the Prime Minister, do you mind?”

“No sir, not at all,” Maxon replied. “I need to get back to
Galatea
anyway. Admiral, Prime Minister.” As Maxon left, Polanco spoke into an intercom and ordered that they not be disturbed.

Darracott eyed the door after Maxon’s departure. “I wish my pets were so well behaved.”

“She’s protective. OK, sometimes maybe too protective.”

“So, you didn’t feel comfortable sharing this with me?” Darracott’s hand waved in the general direction of the conference table. “I’m the Prime Minister—
your
Prime Minister. Didn’t think I could keep a secret, Victor?”

Polanco laughed and moved over to her, leaning against the edge of the table. “We both know you can keep secrets. It’s just that you didn’t need to know until now. It was nothing personal.”

She gave him a pointed glare, and then softened a bit. “What’s the situation with the Gerrhans?”

“President Townsend seems like a decent person, I just hope that his people are too. As I said, we need to find out what’s going on at Earth.” He punched down at the tabletop in frustration. “It’s space, dammit! Everything takes so long to happen and the longer it takes, the greater the chance of someone doing something stupid.”

“You’re running a hell of a gamble with this, Victor. If the Gerrhans stab you in the back, stab
us
in the back… But, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing.” She stood to gather her belongings. “And now, I have to be off to a meeting with Roman Zevkov.”

“Ha! What does the CEO of Stellar March want?”

“He wants to be in charge, that’s what he wants. Every time we meet, I have to explain to Zevkov that just because he runs the Union’s largest mega-corporation, it doesn’t entitle him to dictate government policy. Oh, and I have to do it while gently massaging his ego. Don’t suppose you want to take my place?”

Polanco grinned. “No, thanks. There’s no part of Roman Zevkov I’d like to massage, let alone his ego, so I think I’ll pass. However, I do have a few things to go over with you. Working dinner at my place, say tomorrow evening?”

Darracott’s eyes lit up. “You know, too many working dinners will have people talking.”

Polanco moved close to her, placing his right arm around her waist as his left hand clasped the back of her neck. “I just need to make sure where your loyalties lie. I need to know that you’re still
my
Prime Minister,” he said as he tilted his head and moved to kiss her.

It was a gentle kiss at first, but then she pressed her mouth harder against his. One long kiss receded into several more tender exchanges. “I can’t believe we keep doing this,” she whispered as they embraced. “It’s just a matter of time before people find out.”

“Rennie, my dear, people have already found out,” Polanco said. “Maxon knows and evidently approves.”

“How do you know she approves?”

“Because she hasn’t killed you yet,” he joked. “And, I’m pretty sure Leo Sanchez knows.”

She broke the embrace and held his face between her hands. “I mean the wrong people, Victor. I’m talking about political opponents, both yours and mine. Leo doesn’t count. Seriously, we—” Just then, there was a chime at the door and the two untangled as Leonardo Sanchez walked into the room. Even with his advanced prosthetic leg, he still limped ever so slightly. Sanchez carried a datatab and a worried expression.

“Ah, speak of the devil,” said Polanco with a wink. “Just talking about you, my friend.”

“I am so sorry to interrupt your, eh, meeting Admiral, Prime Minister,” Sanchez replied in a distressed voice.

Darracott placed her hand on Sanchez’s shoulder. “Leo, what is it? You look as pale as one of my Odessan brothers. What’s wrong?”

“Again, sorry for the interruption, but I felt you’d want to see this immediately, Admiral, and you as well, Prime Minister. We’ve just received a report from Uritski Outpost…”

4: Gardener

Planet Earth

Aquitaine region

Former nation of France

As he stared into the mirror, he saw the face of a handsome man. It wasn’t the most attractive face ever, but certainly far from the least attractive. The bathroom mirror reflected high and pointed cheekbones with a long, tapered jawline. His skin had a healthy, tanned hue. After all, he did spend a lot of time outdoors in the garden. His blue eyes were also very striking. Yes, those eyes liked what they saw, especially his full shock of strawberry blond hair. Not bad for a man who’d just turned 115 True. Physically however, he looked like a forty-year-old, forty-five at most.

Thankfully, he’d had his Regen Treatment before the expedition departed. High Nobles received the Treatment about every fifty years, three per lifetime. He had considered delaying it until he returned home, but mercifully, he’d listened to the advice of his wife. After all, that was a dozen years ago. Think of what he would look like today if he had foregone his second Treatment. Marvia had her faults, but intelligence was not one of them. Her judgment was impeccable, which was why he was so willing to have her manage their estates during his extended absence. By the time he returns home, she will have made a fortune for him. She really was an exceptional mate—sometimes he even missed her.

The Treatment was grand, but why couldn’t they do something about the daily stubble on his face. As he smeared on the cream depilatory to remove his morning beard, he laughed to himself.
Isn’t that just like scientists? They can achieve miraculous things like reaching this world, but they can’t stop my beard from growing overnight.
After wiping off the cream and stubble into a towel, he took one more look in the mirror.
Definitely not a day over forty…

He dressed, walked downstairs from his suite, and proceeded toward his office. Uniformed guards stationed in the hallways saluted as he passed by. Two technicians were exiting the Colony Command Center as he walked by and both stopped in the doorway to give a slight bow of respect. After twelve years discipline was still strict, unquestionably the product of good leadership.

Entering his spacious office, he saw that it was a beautiful day outside and the double doors leading to the courtyard had been propped open. When the workers built the Government Compound, he had insisted it be placed on top of a hill overlooking the town. From the courtyard, he could gaze out over his city while he tended to his garden. Gardens had to be watered and nurtured, and occasionally trimmed lest they grow undisciplined and wild. Weeds were bound to pop up here and there, seemingly out of nowhere sometimes. In his garden, high on the hill, he could watch for them and catch them before they caused trouble.

As he stepped outside onto the tessellated stone floor, the warm sunlight caught his face. He smiled broadly as he approached the shaded breakfast table and its sole occupant. The Lord Governor bent down and kissed the blonde woman on the lips, then sat down next to her. As if materializing from thin air, a servant placed a breakfast tray before him and he began to eat.

“Cheprin, I’m glad to see that you’re finally up,” said the woman, “I was about to send someone to roust you.”

“I’m so sorry my dear, I overslept again. I didn’t hear you get up this morning.”

“I had some work to catch up on and didn’t want to wake you. Anyway, you’re the Lord Governor and you can sleep as late as you want.” Her shoulder length hair moved slightly in the breeze as she finished the last of her juice.

Naar had come to him not quite six months ago, a replacement for an administrative assistant who had fallen ill. Impressed by her intelligence and tireless work ethic, the Lord Governor found Naar to be indispensable when dealing with the task of managing the colony. He had also been conquered by her raw sexuality. Cheprin realized that there was a chemistry between them, as she knew his needs and desires, and he knew hers. Work had led to bed and bed had led to a mutually beneficial partnership. She was 26 True, clever, beautiful, and had become an important part of his life.

“Don’t forget, you have that conference with the nanotech managers this afternoon,” she reminded him, dabbing her mouth with a cloth napkin.

“Oh, I had forgotten about that,” Cheprin said while chewing on a piece of apple. Chasing it down with a sip of juice, he brooded about the meeting. “I so dislike dealing with those people. Why can’t they just do their jobs? We all work for His glory. I don’t see why they have to make it so difficult.” He took a few more bites of breakfast, and then motioned to a nearby servant to take his plate away. Thoughts of the difficult day ahead had dampened his appetite.

The Lord Governor’s extra sleep had cost him the early morning chorus of the birds. Most of the sounds now floating upward toward the Government Compound were the noise of city life: people milling about in the marketplace at the base of the hill, the muffled sounds of traffic on the streets, a flyer passing overhead as it drifted toward the Security Dome. Cheprin reflected on his accomplishments as he looked upon the city. Revitalizing this planet had been difficult and building the city of Bakkoa had been challenging, but he and his people had met the challenge. It had all been accomplished in His name and now was not the time for Cheprin to waver in his duties.

“Would you like for me to deal with the nanotech managers today?” Naar asked as she placed her hand on his, stroking it lightly.

He lifted her fingers to his lips, kissing them. “No, no, I’ll deal with them. These people need to understand that when they deal with the colonial government, they are dealing with a High Noble of the Rhuzari Empire. I will meet with them and explain their duties to our Honored Emperor. It is only due to His grace that we are here on this bountiful planet.”

Naar’s face turned solemn. “Of course, Cheprin. To be sure, we are all His children.”

As breakfast was being cleared away by the servants, two men came through the doorway from the Lord Governor’s office, the taller man bumping into a servant carrying several carafes of unconsumed juices.

“Oh, so sorry. Excuse me. Ah, there you are my Lord!” Deputy Governor Sheel regained his balance and crossed the courtyard to where his superior was seated. Sheel was a lanky, goateed man. He appeared to be older than Cheprin, but was actually younger in absolute years. Somewhere just shy of 110 True, Sheel was from one of the Lesser Noble families, hence his Treatments were of inferior quality. His beard was already sprinkled with gray and wrinkles were beginning to show up on his face and hands. It was still better than the natural aging of the Common Children, thought Cheprin.
How horrible their lives must be…

“Lord Governor,” Sheel began, then hesitated, distracted by seeing the last of the breakfast food being removed. “Um, my Lord, I’ve brought Doctor Acree to see you. I believe you stated that you wished to speak with him before his transport departed this morning.”

As the other man advanced, Naar greeted Sheel. “Have you had breakfast yet, my Lord?”

“Ah, Madam Naar, so nice of you. As a matter of fact—”

“Breakfast is over,” declared Cheprin. “Sheel, do sit down, you’re making me nervous.”

Sheel’s older companion gave a brief, formal bow to the Lord Governor. He was thin, dressed in somewhat unkempt civilian clothes, their shabbiness contrasted by the sharp official green tunic suits worn by Cheprin and Sheel. The man was in his early sixties, with a mane of thick, graying brown hair flowing from the back of his head and gathered into a ponytail. The front was a different story—a receding hairline which had gotten higher with age. Perspiring from the morning sun and a clear case of nerves, he looked like a person who just wanted to get this over.

“Doctor Acree, I hope you have good news for me today,” the Lord Governor said as he glared at the scientist.

“Yes, my Lord, very good news. Our testing of the new components here at the ground lab has been successful. With your blessings, my staff and I will leave this afternoon to complete the work. We will need the use of three transports to convey the personnel and equipment.”

Cheprin continued to eye the man with a guarded look. “How long, Doctor? When will the Threshold be operational?”

“I would say in forty-eight hours, my Lord, possibly thirty-six if we are lucky.” He bit his lip, quickly recanting. “No, better make it forty-eight just to be sure.”

Cheprin took a deep breath. Acree seemed sure he had somehow earned the Lord Governor’s ire and was visibly relieved when he saw a broad grin spread across his superior’s face. “That is excellent news, simply excellent, Doctor. You have permission for the use of the transports. Sheel, handle that will you?”

Sheel seemed to be daydreaming, perhaps thinking of the breakfast he’d missed out on. “Um? Oh, of course, my Lord Governor, it will be done. Doctor, if I may ask a question. How will our people on the other side know we are here?”

Acree beamed, always happy to discuss his work. “The Threshold will project a gateway into our home star system—they can’t miss it. The Threshold will then hold the gateway open for as long as we need. We will simply send a message through and await a reply.”

Naar moved close and placed her hand on Cheprin’s shoulder. “Oh, my Lord, may I accompany Doctor Acree off-world today? It would be an honor to represent you aboard the Threshold during the moment of its activation. May I?”

“But, Naar, I need you here. There is so much work to do, even more now that we are on the verge of contacting the Emperor once again.”

The woman repositioned herself ever so slightly, so that her left leg rubbed against his right. Cheprin smiled and gazed into her eyes. Sheel and Acree both appeared to be intensely uncomfortable.

“I really, strongly believe,” pressed Naar “that you need an official of the colonial government on the Threshold when it is activated. It will send a signal to the workers that you understand and appreciate their work and sacrifices. I will return the day after the activation. I’m sure Doctor Acree can manage to send me back, can’t you, Doctor?”

“It would be my pleasure, Madam Naar. You would be most welcome aboard the Threshold and will be our honored guest.” The older man would have said anything to expedite his departure.

Cheprin was beginning to feel like he had lost control of the discussion and rose from his chair. “Perhaps it would be for the best. Yes, the government really should have a representative present. After all, re-establishing contact with the Emperor will be a momentous occasion. I’d go up myself, but my schedule for the upcoming week is quite impossible.”

Sheel halfway raised his hand for permission to speak. “My Lord, in my position as Deputy Governor, if it be your desire, I could make the trip with Doctor Acree.”

“It most certainly is NOT my desire, Sheel. Naar will do the honors.”

The Lord Governor’s aide left to pack for her trip into space, as did Dr. Acree. The noon sun was nearly upon them, so the remaining two men retreated into the comfort of Cheprin’s office.

Lord Governor Cheprin’s office was cavernous. He’d had it built this way to be imposing, but Sheel saw it more as a reflection of Cheprin’s vanity, or more likely his insecurity. As he sat down at his desk, the Lord Governor spoke in a tone of reconciliation. “Sheel, I didn’t mean to be terse with you earlier, but obviously Naar had her heart set on the trip to the Threshold. You understand, don’t you?”

“Of course, my Lord, I completely understand and please, think nothing of it.”

“By the way, Sheel,” the Lord Governor said as he began to examine some files, “why are you still here?”

Sheel walked around the desk to stand beside Cheprin and reached down to activate some controls. Several projected images floated in front of the two men.

“Our cruiser
Obedience
has returned to spacedock, some four hours ago. Captain Jahak has filed his report on the sortie into Sarissan space. He had a very interesting engagement with a Union cruiser he lured into battle. I think you will want to examine the data in these files, my Lord.”

“Yes,” responded Cheprin as he read and physically manipulated the data in midair with his hands, pushing and pulling bits of light as if they were solid objects. “This seems to be consistent with what we’ve discovered about the other nearby human faction. What were they called again?”

“Gerrhans sir, of the Gerrhan Commonwealth.”

“Yes, that’s right,” acknowledged Cheprin. He continued to scan the information for a moment longer. “All right, I’ll review this in more detail later this afternoon.”

The Lord Governor deactivated the displays and looked pensive for a moment. “And still no sign of the Adversary?”

“None, my Lord,” Sheel replied firmly.

Cheprin rose and walked to a large window facing the garden, where he gazed out at his beloved flowers. “
Obedience
has done well, although I would have preferred that the Sarissan ship been destroyed. Our actions should stir these people up against each other, buying us the time we need. At the very least, these raids into nearby systems are providing us with valuable intelligence. Perhaps we should have started them earlier. No matter, once the Threshold has been activated, I will send a message home to Rhuzar informing them of our discovery. Then, our battle fleets will begin to pour through the Threshold and we will conquer this space in the name of the Emperor.” Cheprin seemed more to be performing a soliloquy from some great play rather than speaking to the Deputy Governor at this point.

“Just think, Sheel. I am about to present the Emperor with a prize like no other in the long and storied history of our people. As a child, I could never have dreamed of making this kind of contribution to His glory. He will honor me, perhaps with a private audience. Of course, the important thing is that the might and power of His Eternal Majesty will be expanded because of what we do here.” He jogged himself, as if awakening from some delightful dream.

“Pour me a glass of red wine, Sheel,” Cheprin ordered, “and one for yourself if you wish.”