Date Point: 7Y 2M 3D AV
OCHA HQ, Geneva, Earth
Jennifer Delaney
The better part of two years had passed since Jen had returned to Earth, but all her time was still consumed by the events taking place among the stars. Humanity had only just been informed about its place in the galaxy, causing an immeasurable impact on society, when that place had transformed in an instant. The Galactic Dominion, the Celzi Alliance, and the Hunter threat had all been snuffed out in single moment, leaving humanity to manage the situation. It was absolutely beyond what mankind could handle with only a single developed planet and a pair of starships, but the effort was being made. Most of humanity couldn’t give a toss about what happened to E.T., and some noisy groups even considered it a good thing, but others saw the opportunity in saving what was left. Gao had been the first planet to receive aid, and was still battling to rebuild internal stability, but human forces were currently working with several other planets to mark out safe zones, gather food and other resources, and to install functioning governments. While the major powers were contributing military support out of Cimbrean, the actual relief efforts were being executed by OCHA—the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs. The Geneva Headquarters was quite impressive for first time visitors, but humans could get used to anything and Jen considered it as an inconvenient place to have private meetings with some of the most important people behind the project. Sitting in a waiting room was practically the same experience anywhere in the galaxy, and this was one instance where identifying herself as Jennifer Delaney wasn’t a magic phrase to shorten the wait time. She breathed a sigh of relief as the office door finally opened, pulling her back from the verge of sleep, and two suited men stepped out as their meeting concluded.
The shorter and older of the pair was familiar to Jen, as this was her eighth meeting with Under-Secretary-General Dorian Sinclair. Shaking the other man’s hand, he turned to smile at Jen. “Miss Delaney! Sorry for the wait, but please allow me to introduce you to Mr. Zalán Antall. He’s one of our many partners in the E.U. whose job it is to manage the galactic refugee camps. Mr. Antall, I don’t believe any introduction is required for Jennifer Delaney?”
Mr. Antall too Jen’s hand and kissed it lightly. “Not at all,” he said, with an unusual Germanic accent. “I would be surprised if there was anyone on the planet who would not know your face.”
Jen cleared her throat. It wasn’t that Mr. Antall was particularly good looking, but this was not the kind of behaviour she expected during an office meeting and it left her a little flustered. “Price of being famous,” she replied. “I understand there’ve been some problems in the new camps?”
Mr. Antall shrugged a little. “There are always problems in camps. They’re not nice places to live, but what alternative do they have? With such a tenuous grasp of their technology, we can only provide so much support, yet they seem to believe we can somehow restore their civilisation overnight. I fear many of them have unrealistic expectations of the human race.”
“Relax, I’m not planning on saving any new planets anytime soon,” Jen replied with a smile. “We already have our hands full as it is.”
“Indeed,” he said. “If it wasn’t for your work, I doubt we could convince the public to keep funding our efforts, and we would have to make even greater concessions to the corporations for their help.”
“Perish the thought,” she replied, and glanced at Sinclair. The truth was that humanity would get more out of helping the galaxy than they were putting in, but they were still waiting for the first returns on the investment. Access to resources, technology, medicine and land were all on the horizon, but it had to be carefully managed for several reasons—nobody wanted what had happened to the galaxy to also happen on Earth, and it was vitally important they avoid another mass-extinction event like the one on Cimbrean. A lot of people had been very angry with Jen about that, but she had managed to persuade most of them that the whole thing had actually been Adrian Saunders’ fault.
“I’m afraid we must get to our meeting, Mr. Antall,” Sinclair interrupted. “We are already running late, and I believe Miss Delaney has a flight to catch.”
“Unfortunate,” he said, and slipped a card into Jen’s hand. “Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever find yourself in Austria.”
Jen took the card with a smile and a nod, and allowed Sinclair to escort her into his office.
“Sorry about that,” said Sinclair as he waved her to a seat, “I hadn’t expected him to be…”
“A pending sexual harassment lawsuit?” Jen finished, tearing the little card in half. “Don’t worry too much, it’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with a creeper and it’s a lot easier in an office than at a party.”
Sinclair raised an eyebrow. “I thought alcohol still had little effect on you?”
Jen had gone through an extremely unpleasant process to have the mutant gut-bacteria removed from her, thereby preventing an unwanted addition to the Earth’s eco-system. Her recovery time had returned to normal, but the constant over-exposure to Cruezzir had left her with a number of mild super-powers which included a shockingly strong tolerance to alcohol. “That hasn’t changed, but some other people get kind of ‘handsy’.”
Sinclair sighed. “That explains the incident in Prague?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jen replied with a coy smile. “The diplomat simply slipped and landed unfortunately.”
“He’s been recalled regardless of the official explanation,” said Sinclair, waving it off, “but we’re not here to talk about that. I wanted to let you know that we’re moving your family to Cimbrean.”
Jen sat up in surprise. “What?”
“There has been a… situation… don’t worry, nobody was hurt, but it has increased security concerns,” Sinclair quickly explained. “The local police do not feel confident that they’ll be able to continue protecting them where they are.”
“And my father agreed to this?” Jen asked in surprise. They’d been through the Troubles, and she couldn’t see him giving up the family pub unless the situation was somehow even worse.
“He’s the only one who hasn’t,” said Sinclair. “He’s remarkably stubborn.”
“He is that,” Jen agreed. “What was the ‘situation’?”
“Threatening letters as usual, but there was a kidnapping attempt on your niece and a robbery at your brother’s workshop.”
Jen winced. She knew she was responsible for bringing this misery into their lives, and the idea of people kidnapping children just to get at her was a horrifying thought. “Cimbrean would be safer.”
With the exception of a single murder, there hadn’t been any major crimes in the colony. Part of that was due to the intense security provided by the military police, but it was also the natural bias of those allowed to go there in the first place. If they weren’t safe on Cimbrean, they wouldn’t find safety anywhere. “Don’t know that I’ll be able to convince the old man, though.”
“I didn’t really expect you to,” admitted Sinclair. “I was just letting you know how things had developed, so you can do whatever you need to do. What I really wanted to talk about was the new gold rush and the prospect of having you head to the refugee camps in the coming year.”
“This is the first I’m hearing about either of those things,” said Jen.
“Mr. Antall, among others, has been asking me to provide some form of public relations program in the refugee camps, and I can’t think of anyone better suited than you,” said Sinclair. “You’d only be away for a few months at most, and the Earth can probably manage without you for that long.”
“Obviously I accept,” said Jen. She still felt tied to the Earth, but she was also bored silly by her current role and a trip to the stars felt like a much needed break. “You could have made that offer by email, so what’s the catch?”
“The fact is that we’re not entirely sure,” said Sinclair. “We believe there may be some kind of Hierarchy infiltration in the camps, but we haven’t been able to confirm anything. We have our eye on several suspects, but we’re hoping your presence will force them to play their hand. Then we’ll know for sure.”
Jen nodded; this wasn’t the sort of request you put in an email. “So I’m the bait. Makes sense, since it’s not like you’re going to find anyone better. Just have them send me the itinerary and I’ll help however’s needed. What’s this about a new gold rush?”
“Certain corporations have gotten access to ship technology,” Sinclair revealed, “and have working prototypes of hybrid designs. With all the work in the military sector, it was really only a matter of time before this kind of technology started showing up elsewhere. The decision has been made to prevent specific countries from dominating the industry, so the alien technology is being released into the public domain.”
Jen closed her mouth after failing to find the words for several moments. “What?”
“I’m not here to debate the wisdom of it,” Sinclair replied. “The decision has been made, and it’s already happening. The first civilian vessels are going to start appearing in the very near future, and we expect they’ll range from luxury cruises to mining ships. There’s a lot of money to be made, even in local space, and this will probably placate the population for the next ten years.”
“I see,” said Jen. “My opinion notwithstanding, what do you want me to do about this?”
“The military is already making risk assessments of what a hostile power could do with this capability,” he replied. “They’re pretty good for the most part, but they lack familiarity with the technology. I know you don’t like it, but your experience with Adrian Saunders could be very helpful in identifying the risks.”
Jen’s experience with Adrian Saunders had basically been nothing but risk. “I’m not really sure how much help I can be when it comes to that man’s abilities. I don’t know how he managed to do what he did. I already told the military guys all about it.”
“Different military guys with different questions,” said Sinclair. “I hear that they’re not expecting anything extra, but they want to cover all their bases.”
“I understand,” she said, accepting that there really wasn’t a way out of any of this. She’d been on this path since the moment she’d returned to Earth, and the big decisions were out of her hands. Trying to go against the flow would simply make everything harder, and so far there hadn’t been a battle worth the fight. “I guess I’d better re-arrange my schedule.”
“Your agent will be forwarded the details,” said Sinclair. “Let her figure it all out, and enjoy the rest of your time in Geneva.”
“That’d be nice,” Jen said with a sigh, “but I really have got that flight to catch. I need to hobnob in California for the next week or so. It’s a whole thing for San Diego, and the rest of the coast in general.”
She knew it was important work, but she wasn’t looking forward to it. The Pacific seaboard of the United States had been thoroughly devastated by the tectonic events caused by San Diego’s destruction, and conditions had scarcely improved for most of the population. The enormous social pressures were putting the United States in a very difficult position, and they had been forced to heavily withdraw from the international community. Funding the off-world relief efforts was seen as a waste when there was so much suffering on Earth, and it was Jen’s job to keep convincing people that the massive undertaking would also help everyone going hungry on Earth. It was true, but things had yet to pan out that way and it was getting harder to convince everyone. At least this time she could start making promises about the new gold rush, which is probably why Sinclair had mentioned it in the first place.
“In that case I can only wish you good luck,” he said, rising from his seat with his hand outstretched. “And a safe trip, of course.”
She shook his hand firmly. “Thanks, I have a feeling I’ll need it.”
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Ark Station, Sanctuary System, Ilrayen Band
Askit
Transforming the Ark into a secret base for human military operations had not taken very long. It was placed far enough from the rest of galactic civilisation to prevent it from being detected, and was the closest functioning outpost to a whole slew of deathworlds. Askit had no logical answer for why humans would have such an interest in deathworlds instead of more comfortable planets, but he had long since given up looking for rational answers. The arrival of the H.M.S Caledonia had preceded an effective occupation by human forces, which had drastically changed the lives of Darragh and Keffa. Those two were still aboard, having been made responsible for maintaining the Ark and routine scouting missions. Askit, on the other hand, found himself as the only non-human on the station and still had more responsibilities than everyone else combined.
“Good morning, team,” he said as he trudged into the office with a cup of coffee already in hand. He’d discovered the human drink shortly after being saddled with a trio of so-called technical specialists, and had taken to drinking a watered-down version after a brief stint in hospital. Based on his experience so far, the existence of coffee meant that humanity could destroy the rest of the universe and still worth it. Coffee was so good it even balanced out being forced to wear clothes. ”What’s on the agenda today?”
“You’ve got some meetings with the Station Commander,” said Corporal Stephenson from his terminal. “The rest of us are looking at configuring some of the new bulkhead doors.”
Humans did not put much stock in Dominion technology. Most other species saw it as miraculous and infallible, and fully accepted it for everything it could offer. Humans felt uncomfortable being reliant on an energy shield to keep the air in, or on gravity systems to make sure they had somewhere to stand. Askit knew what he could do to those systems, so he couldn’t really blame them; rather it made him question why everybody else had always been so accepting. Even with the influence of the Hierarchy, the galaxy was weirdly stupid.
“I created a deployable package for that,” he told the team. “It should take you maybe five minutes to do it. Make sure you still charge for the quoted length of time.”
It would take Askit about thirty seconds, but he didn’t want to continually crush the self-confidence of his team members. What they lacked in experience they made up for in clever ideas. Nobody outside his team knew how long everything should take, so they were quoted whatever sounded good at the time. The result was a team that mostly sat around playing games or fooling with Dominion code, all of whom appreciated the relaxed attitude of their alien boss.
“Take care of that and then I’ve got some simulations for you guys to try to beat,” Askit told them. “First one to do it will get a prize… I don’t know, some kind of fucking contraband or something. Nobody else gets shit.”
Checking his data tab, he sent out a link to the simulations in question. He had designed them to match situations he had previously overcome, and the humans were slowly getting to the point they could actually beat them. Not as fast as Askit himself, but to do it at all was worthy of congratulations. Besides that it looked as though Station Commander Stoddart had booked him in for three meetings that would fill out most of his day. “Well… I suppose I can say goodbye to a lunch break,” he said. “If any of you need me, you know where I’ll be. Take care of those work tickets and touch yourselves as much as you want.”
They turned to give him the finger, which was the salute used privately in the cyber-division’s control room, and returned to all the screwing around they’d just been doing. The first rule of cyber-division is that nobody needs to know what happens in cyber-division.
Finishing his coffee, he left it on his desk and proceeded to the main command centre where Stoddart kept his office. The station was the centre of hundreds of secret missions, and had never seen more activity than in the last two Earth-years. The main command centre was constantly busy with standard operations and new arrivals coming to meet with the Station Commander.
There weren’t any new arrivals scheduled today, at least as far as Askit knew, and he kept himself better informed than he strictly ought to be. That meant that Stoddart had news to convey, he’d come up with some new idea he wanted to run past Askit, or he just wanted to keep the cyber-division involved in decision making. That was something Askit naturally accepted, but judging by the comments from his team it wasn’t usually how human organisations did business.
Judging solely by the fact that he was the only other person in the room, Askit guessed it was the first option. “Good morning, Station Commander. You filled up my schedule?”
James Stoddart was a fair-skinned man with short-cropped greying hair and a less-than-muscular build. His body clearly remembered routine exercise, although it was currently more familiar with comfortable chairs, and he didn’t bother to rise from his seat when Askit entered the room.
“Askit, how are you feeling?” he asked after sizing him up.
“No worse than usual,” he replied as he took a seat. “The medical suite is holding off the worst of it for the moment. I don’t know what else can be done while Corti space remains… troubled.”
He wasn’t sure what had happened on Origin, the Corti homeworld, but technology had clearly remained active and a variety of countermeasures had been put in place. The planet itself was unapproachable, and no contact had been made with the surface. The same was true on some other worlds, such as Cavaras, while the rest lay in absolute ruin and were beyond help. The human race did not have the resources to try and force the matter, and had not dedicated any more effort to figuring out what was going on.
“Well, I do have some good news,” Stoddart replied. “We’ve located a Corti surgeon. An entire Dominion medical team, to be precise.”
“You found a minor medical station?” Askit guessed. It was instantly confirmed by the way Stoddart deflated.
“You heard somehow?” he asked.
“No, it simply seemed the most probable reason,” Askit replied. “A planet would be too messy to find an intact medical team, and a larger medical station would have been fully connected to the galactic network at the time of the incident. A minor medical station wouldn’t have had the food they needed to survive, but they would have had plenty of stasis pods to use when things started looking rough.”
“That’s exactly how they were found,” said Stoddart, annoyed.
“Are they coming here?” Askit asked.
“Although it would be nice to have access to a hyper-advanced medical team, the refugee camps need them more,” Stoddart explained. “They’re being shipped to Camp Delta, which is in the Prizon system, and a reclamation team will be taking them all their hardware once it’s pulled out.”
“So… I’m just going to Camp Delta?” asked Askit, although he didn’t really expect this to be confirmed.
“Eventually,” Stoddart replied, “but first you need to reach the station before the reclamation team can get there. I need you to get every scrap of data you can from that place, along with any blueprints you might find useful. It’d be best if the reclamation team found the computers inexplicably blank.”
“I take it the reclamation team is not on our side?” Askit inferred—humans had a surprising variety of factions who wouldn’t even cooperated to overcome an existential threat. Denying medical technology to another group was in keeping with expectations.
“The station was operated by a group called the Robalins,” said Stoddart. “Our information suggests they have a certain history around weaponised diseases and other forms of bio-chemical warfare. The reclamation team belongs to an international body, and we can’t be sure that kind of research won’t fall into the wrong hands.”
“You’re practically invincible against anything the Robalins could throw at you,” noted Askit. “How could you possibly benefit from that sort of information?”
“It’s not the diseases themselves,” said Stoddart, “but the technology used to create them. We’re extremely concerned that someone could use the same methods to weaponise all manner of Earthly diseases. It all needs to be tightly controlled.”
“I understand,” said Askit, who gained a deeper appreciation around why Adrian had not wanted to return to Earth. The Robalin research was bad enough, but it was tightly controlled by their government and was intended for use in war. There were human factions, on the other hand, who would create and release such weapons with no regard for the consequences.
Stoddart hadn’t pushed very hard on actually bringing the data back, as though he was suggesting that maybe, with Askit’s help, absolutely no research would be recovered—outside of a few notable elements, even humans despised biological weapons.
“There is one other thing,” said Stoddart, leaving Askit to his own conclusions. “This will be a covert mission. You’ll be using The Snippy Remark and flying with Darragh Houston and Kefani and acting as though you were still pirates. Nothing will associate your team with our operation.”
“A cunning ploy,” said Askit approvingly. “That way it looks like a group of known pirates raided the base, instead of another human faction. Presumably we’re not limited in how we deal with any witnesses?”
“Try not to kill everyone,” Stoddart replied. “We all benefit by them identifying a third party with an established agenda. Obviously your survival comes first, and you should defend yourselves, but don’t go starting a fight if you can help it.”
“And Darragh and Keffa already know about this plan?” Askit asked. Those two were going to be a handful, and were barely talking to each other right now. There had been a brief fling, followed by an extended period of arguments, and Keffa was currently drifting between relationships while Darragh sat around moaning like usual. Askit really only contacted them when the matter related to his work, and didn’t intend to give them a briefing on the mission.
“I’ve already talked to them,” said Stoddart. His expression remained passive, but there was an edge to his words that suggested he had not enjoyed the experience.
Askit sighed. “Should I bother asking who’s in charge?”
Stoddart gazed at him levelly. “I should think that’s obvious. Despite many misgivings, you’re still the only one I can trust with this kind of work. Those two are going because they are your known associates, and even you can’t do everything by yourself.”
“Technically true,” Askit replied. “I’ll be ready to go as soon as they can make that ship presentable.”
Stoddart shook his head. “No time for that—you’ll be leaving straight after the rest of our meetings his morning. Apparently the quantum mess around the Agwar system is beginning to stabilise.”
“Now that does sound interesting,” Askit replied, his interest suddenly piqued. News on the Agwar system meant news on Adrian Saunders, and both were of great interest to the human government currently occupying Ark Station. The ‘quantum mess’ was a practical curiosity, since the humans wanted to know about all the issues it created, but they were more intrigued by the massive spike in energy that occurred nearly two years ago. That event had happened some time after Askit and the others had left the area, and had raised a lot of questions he couldn’t answer. After all the other explosions it seemed natural to connect it with Adrian, and it was hard to imagine him dead even with no way to confirm his fate. “Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will be fine.”
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Contested Zone 34, Gao
Chir
Everything was not fine. Contested Zone 34 should have been pacified and kept under control by the legitimate Gaoian government. The patrol had coincided with a repair run to the communication array to keep everything in working order, and no significant resistance was expected. Now Chir was crouched behind the remains of his vehicle with his left leg severed below the knee, ignoring the pain while repairing his gun. The medical support officer had done an admirable job staunching the bloodflow, and had forbidden him from taking part in the rest of the battle before charging off to help someone else. That had been a few minutes ago, and there was every possibility that she wasn’t coming back. The mission had been supported by a platoon of half-trained soldiers, and yet the only one protecting Chir was a green-scaled deathworlder taking far too much joy in the fight.
It wasn’t a fair fight at all. The V’Straki engineer was easily the most overgunned participant on the battlefield—including any vehicles involved—and was practically immune to the kinetic pistols wielded by the enemy. The tank-killer deployed against the patrol had done its job, and was the first target destroyed by the laughing Saurian.
“Stop with that shit!” Chir shouted up at him. “Why are you wasting time with guns?”
Xayn leapt down next to him, landing heavily in the mud beside the overturned vehicle. “There are still some members of the platoon left alive. They would likely see the weapon.”
“We can’t have that,” Chir replied. Like Adrian, the V’Straki was a skilled engineer and had a knack for turning existing technology into something truly hideous. Letting the enemy see it was one thing, since they did not tend to survive the encounter, but allies were another matter. Survivors would ask questions, tell their stories, and lead to the proliferation of some truly dangerous machines. Chir had managed to persuade Xayn that it was best to keep using them as a surprise and fully lethal deterrent, but it was only a matter of time before the truth got out. It would happen, but it wouldn’t happen today. “It’ll be easier if we’re the only survivors.”
Xayn nodded in understanding, and unclipped the device from his belt. It was a small drone, similar to those used for scouting an area, but modified to deploy directional nervejam waves. He tossed it high into the air, where it shifted in an evasive pattern, and marked the targets with a laser pointer. Several horrified screams permeated the battlefield, followed by a meaningful silence, and Xayn stepped away to make sure the job was done.
Chir spent the time getting back onto his remaining foot and making sure his other leg wasn’t going to start gouting more blood now that the medic was confirmed dead. “What a shitty day.”
“They knew we were coming,” Xayn said on his return. “They were well entrenched for this ambush, and you would not have survived if I had not accompanied you.”
“We can agree on that much!” Chir replied with a grunt. Losing a leg had seriously soured his mood. “Tell me this: are any of these vehicles going to work?”
“No chance,” said Xayn.
“Shit,” Chir cursed. “And the locals here have probably sided with the separatists, or we would have caught heard something about this ambush. I think they can probably look forward to a purge order.”
Although he was pragmatic in nature—often to the point of being objectively evil—there were limits to what Chir would do. He had forced whole crews out of an airlock. He had publically shot members of his own crew to maintain order. He had held families for ransom, and had always made good on his threats when payment was not forthcoming. Nobody would describe him as a beacon of integrity or high moral standards, but nor had he ever taken part in mass-killings. You needed to have some kind of line, otherwise you were little more than a monster, but that line had started to blur with the standing government. Even the humans were objecting to the methodology, and had withdrawn military support in response, but apparently the tactic had been effective. If you slaughter one community for resisting, the next was more likely to come quietly. The first time had been in Contested Zone 9 after heavy fighting had failed to defeat separatist forces, and had even seemed justified. The blow to the enemy had been immense, and had temporarily crippled their efforts to overthrow the existing government. The three successive times had all worked in the local area, but had the perverse effect of hardening enemy resolve. In addition to all their other complaints, the Separatists now proclaimed that no government worthy of Gao could be so brutal against its people. Chir had found it very hard to counter that argument.
“What do you want to do?” Xayn asked.
Glancing at his missing leg, Chir sighed. “Fortunately the Frontline implant protects me against infection, but I will definitely need to get to a hospital for a new leg. We have some time before our next check-in prompts an alert, so we should make use of it.”
“The communications array should be nearby,” said Xayn. “There is a town up ahead, and I believe the node was adjacent to a disused aircraft landing pad.”
“Sounds right,” said Chir, going from memory. Aircraft had been phased out of general use before Gao made contact with the Dominion, but some people still used them for recreation. Smuggler rings flew low and slow over the terrain by night to avoid detection, and had established most of the arrays in the network. “We’ll avoid the town if we can, but you’ll need to carry me if we’re going to make it in time.”
Xayn quickly swept the area for signs of other attackers before unceremoniously gathering Chir up and slinging him over his shoulder. Unpleasant though it was, the Deathworlder could really move when he wasn’t slowing down to keep pace with others, and he sped across the uneven terrain towards the landing pad. Although it was currently unused, there was no sign of total abandonment and that made Xayn pull up short. Someone had been there, and not that long ago.
“There is a chance we have company,” said Xayn. “Do you want me to use the drone?”
“No,” said Chir, “at least not yet. Set me down and go check it out more thoroughly. Don’t shoot them unless they start it first, and if they want to talk…”
“Come and get you,” Xayn finished. This wasn’t the first time they’d had to talk their way through a situation with separatist supporters, and the V’Straki knew who was better suited to the speaking role. He enjoyed combat as much as his tech-work, yet he’d never started a fight since the first purge. The entire concept seemed to disgust him with its lack of honour, and he had been ready to abandon Gao along with the human soldiers. Chir had managed to convince him to stay around a little longer, in the hope they could put a permanent end to the act.
It came as little surprise when Xayn, feigning surrender, returned to Chir with a pair of locals. They hadn’t disarmed him, but they carefully trained their kinetic pistols on him—clearly they had no idea what they were dealing with, and for the moment there was no reason to enlighten them. Chir watched them approach and made no attempt to hide his missing leg, which was gruesome enough to make them balk.