Sidespace (14 page)

The pilot straightened up in the seat. “Yes, sir.”

They neared the Federation vessels, both of which had halted their approach to hover at fixed positions. When they drew close, the Evanec burst to life once more.

“Do not advance any closer. I repeat, this planet is Federation property and—”

“Firing.” A tiny blip on the radar indicated the annihilation of the buoy.

“Cease any further unlawful destruction of Federation property or you will be reported for a violation of the 2322 Crux Peace Accord.”

Jara’s jaw clenched. He didn’t need to wait for a report and investigation.
“Any interference in Alliance business in this system will be immediately deemed a violation of the Peace Accord. Disable your remaining buoys or we will do it for you.”

The lead Federation vessel accelerated to adopt an intercept course. Were they seriously going to attempt to block his path?
“SFC-D81, disengage and remove yourselves from the system, or your actions will be considered aggressive.”

“Your actions have made you the aggressor here, Captain Jara. We are defending Federation property from further attack.”

His arms tensed against his chest. So much for rote and routine. “Arc above them and get their next buoy targeted. We need—”

Laser fire shot out from the Federation vessel, missing their hull by less than fifty meters.

“Consider that your final warning. If you interfere any—”

“Final warning my ass. Shoot these fuckers.”

MESSIUM STELLAR SYSTEM

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LLIANCE
O
RBITAL
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TATION
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ESSIS
I

“Admiral Rychen, sir?”

Christopher Rychen gestured a final note onto the virtual map he’d superimposed upon a segment of the viewport that stretched the length of the command center. It provided an excellent backdrop and occasionally an excellent workspace.

The Messis I Station had been erected in orbit above Messium to serve as a hub and jumping-off point for the reconstruction of the entirety of settled space to the east of it. On the surface below they continued to be occupied with the reconstruction of Messium itself, and it had proved to be a better idea to remove off-world efforts literally off world.

Outside of the large command center and its attached meeting and work rooms—and spartan living quarters two decks below—most of the remainder of the station consisted of ship docks and loading/unloading platforms. Floating storage containers radiated out from the primary structure in daisy chains; nearly a quarter of the containers were in motion, being hauled to and from ships occupying the docks to capacity.

While most of the reconstruction itself was a civilian affair, the security and no small level of oversight fell to the military, as it so often did. Theft, looting, vandalism and assaults had all skyrocketed on the damaged colonies—the ones where any people remained alive in the aftermath of the Metigen assault.

Even given an almost immeasurable level of destruction, in his mind recovery was taking too long. Still, there were at last signs of a return to normalcy.

The smallest, most devastated colonies were abandoned, but Karelia, Henan, Xanadu and, obviously, Messium had now been nearly restored to pre-Metigen War conditions. Sagitta, Peloponnia and New Maya, though very much works-in-progress, were once again viable and supported slowly growing populations. The Alliance had also provided considerable assistance to the independent colonies of Sagan, Requi and Pyxis in their rebuilding efforts.

The reconstruction was a colossal undertaking, but also a chance to start fresh. To do it better this time. And he thought they had, in places and in fits and starts. The map still had a lot of red on it, but less today than yesterday.

Rychen set aside the musings—grateful peacetime now allowed him the chance to
have
musings—and turned to the soldier standing at attention behind him. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, there’s been an altercation between one of our survey teams and Federation personnel at XX-53b.”

“A violent altercation?”

“Yes, sir. One of our vessels was destroyed and the other damaged. The team is requesting aid. Our team suffered three fatalities and four injuries.”

Rychen bit back a sigh.
It was nice while it lasted.
“What about the Federation personnel?”

“Sir?”

“What were their casualties?”

“I don’t…know, sir.”

“Find out. But first tell me what happened. Give me the short version.”

“The Federation personnel were on-site seeking to claim the world as well. Our people weren’t alerted to their presence until they encountered them during orbital beacon placement. The Federation representatives asserted they held first claim rights and refused to leave. After one of our vessels eliminated a Federation beacon, they fired a warning shot at the Alliance ships, and we returned fire.”

Rychen didn’t share his uncharitable thoughts with the lieutenant. “Direct the NE 21
^st
Platoon and a Medical Response Squad complement to conduct a rescue and recovery operation. Let the colonel over the 21
^st
know I’ll speak with them before they arrive on the scene. Then get back to me with an update on the status of the Federation team. Dismissed.”

The lieutenant saluted, pivoted and departed. Rychen stared at the map for an additional second before heading for his office, which sat adjacent to the command center along the outer ring of the station.

When the door closed behind him he sent a holocomm request. It was just after 1100 in Cavare; at least he wouldn’t be waking her.

The holo materialized to reveal Field Marshal Gianno sitting behind her desk, to outward appearances doing nothing at all. Another day at the office. “Admiral Rychen. It’s been a few weeks. What can I do for you?”

Seven months ago they’d been thrown together into a pitched battle for humanity’s survival. In fifteen hours of combat they hadn’t come to blows—or even the plausible threat of blows—which made it a decent working relationship in military terms. In the intervening months they’d spoken a dozen or so times, met three times in person and exchanged numerous reports and recommendations. He suspected he corresponded with the Field Marshal more often than anyone else in the Alliance—but then again Messium was, if not quite on the Senecan Federation’s doorstep, certainly in its neighborhood.

He wished this conversation wasn’t necessary. “I’m afraid we’ve had an incident. It was bound to happen I suppose, but in any event, I’ve just received word Alliance and Federation ships clashed while scouting a new planet we’re calling Itero—here are the Galactic Coordinates—and shots were exchanged. We have casualties, as I expect you do. If you haven’t been notified yet, I’m sure you will be soon.”

“Perhaps not. Our planetary scouting teams are all civilian.”

He only partially squelched a scoff at the double-edged retort. Alliance engineering regiments were as civilian as military got, but they were still military. “And it is unfortunate if that fact resulted in an unequal confrontation.”

The response earned what might be a genuine, if miniscule, smile. He’d finally coaxed a real smile out of her the last time they met in person, something he took an inappropriate degree of pride in. “First, let’s address the emergency at hand. I have a recovery team en route. I’m willing to instruct the team to engage in any rescue and recovery operations needed for your Federation civilian personnel as well, but I wanted to get your permission first.”

She glanced at a screen to her left. “I appreciate the offer, but it won’t be necessary. I have a platoon close. They’ll handle it.”

“Let’s do try to ensure the rescue teams don’t start shooting at each other, shall we?”

Her face was a perfect mask, giving away not a scintilla of emotion. “I’ll do my part.”

He wondered with a touch of sadness how they had gotten here so quickly. “Marshal, our people should not be shooting at one another. This is exactly the kind of situation the politicians created the Conflict Resolution Board for. Both sides should have desisted from their activities and alerted their superiors, who would’ve filed grievances with the Board. Instead everyone had itchy trigger fingers.”

“And now people are dead on both sides.” She nodded. “All right. Ideas on how to prevent this from happening again in the future?”

“We each send a very public message that violence toward our allies will not be tolerated. If the facts turn out to be consistent with the early reports, I intend to bring courts-martial against the ship captain who gave the order to fire on the Federation vessels, as well as anyone else who shares culpability. They’ll be punished—as they should be—but they’ll also serve as a necessary example.”

He’d daresay she looked surprised, which troubled him. He recognized Federation leaders remained wary about the Alliance’s intentions, but he’d hoped they didn’t group him in with the tone-deaf politicians.

The expression was gone the next instant, so fast he might have imagined it. “Strictly speaking, I don’t have disciplinary authority over teams from the Interstellar Development Agency. But Chairman Vranas does, and I expect he won’t be pleased about this incident either. I’ll recommend a full hearing and sanctions against the on-site team, as well as their supervisors if insufficient training or unclear—or flat-out improper—mission guidelines contributed to the team believing opening fire was the correct way to resolve the conflict.”

He exhaled and relaxed a little. “Thank you, Marshal. I don’t know if we’ll be able to keep our relations pointed in the right direction, but I sure as hell intend to try.”

Once the holo vanished he sent another request, this time to Miriam…and received an auto-bounce indicating she was otherwise occupied and would be unable to respond to any messages for the next several hours.

He drummed his fingers on the edge of his desk. He could override the bounce with a Level V Priority flag. But in his experience she didn’t utilize such auto-bouncers unless there was a damn good reason for it. And, God willing, the urgent phase of the crisis at Itero had passed. There would be plenty of time for the overwrought accusations and denunciations later.

If it was all the same to those back on Earth, he’d prefer to skip it and concentrate on rebuilding what the Metigens had destroyed.

11

ERISEN

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C
OLONY

K
ENNEDY
R
OSSI WAS SURROUNDED BY
floating holo panels when Noah walked into the space they had rented for Connova Interstellar—a very ambitious name for a company that consisted of, for now, little more than a mostly empty office, an adiamene patent and a brilliant mind full of ideas. Her mind, not his.

The office wouldn’t be empty for much longer, though, if she had anything to say about it—and she had a great deal to say about it. Halfway-complete schem flows, partial designs of two disparate ship models, and multiple lists filled the screens.

She stood in the center of it all, dressed in a jade lace top, white Capris and espadrilles in defiance of the chilly weather outside, and had both hands on her hips. So damn adorable.

He tip-toed across the room behind her, slipped through the screens, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her into the air.

“Ahh!” She twisted around, wide-eyed. “Noah, you scared me!”

“That was the goal.” He kissed her until her grumble gave way to a pleased murmur.

“I’m working.”

He reluctantly deposited her on the floor but kept his hands on her waist. “So I see. How goes it?”

She glared at the panel to her left. “Slow. There are so many more factors to consider than I imagined. I thought I was taking everything into account in my work at IS Design, but I was wrong. Badly wrong.” She wiggled out of his grasp and went over to tweak an entry on one of the lists. “How was Mia?”

“Um…alive? Awake? No, she seemed to be in really good shape, given the circumstances. Already going stir-crazy.”

“Hmm. And your dad?”

“The usual. Grumpy and judgmental. He says hello.” Noah watched her for a few seconds. “How can I help?”

She steepled her hands in front of her mouth. “Quantum boxes are significantly smaller now, but all this hardware still needs power. And power is heavy. We need lightweight power.”

“It’s not as if adiamene can’t support a lot of weight.”

In truth it could do far more than that. Initially created on accident when Alex used scrap from the wreckage of Caleb’s ship to patch the hole he’d blown in the
Siyane
, the chemical fusion of those particular carbon and amodiamond metamaterials had resulted in a wholly new material. Adiamene, as Kennedy had named it after recognizing its uniqueness, was not only far stronger, but also more resilient, flexible and conductive than anything engineers had been able to produce to date.